The Fulton County Grand Jury said Friday an investigation

of Atlanta's recent primary election produced "no evidence" that

any irregularities took place. The jury further said in term-end
presentments that the City Executive Committee, which had over-all
charge of the election, "deserves the praise and thanks of the
City of Atlanta" for the manner in which the election was conducted.

The September-October term jury had been charged by Fulton

Superior Court Judge Durwood Pye to investigate reports of possible
"irregularities" in the hard-fought primary which was won by
Mayor-nominate Ivan Allen Jr&. "Only a relative handful
of such reports was received", the jury said, "considering the
widespread interest in the election, the number of voters and the size
of this city". The jury said it did find that many of Georgia's
registration and election laws "are outmoded or inadequate
and often ambiguous". It recommended that Fulton legislators
act "to have these laws studied and revised to the end of modernizing
and improving them". The grand jury commented on a number
of other topics, among them the Atlanta and Fulton County purchasing
departments which it said "are well operated and follow generally
accepted practices which inure to the best interest of both governments".

#MERGER PROPOSED#

However, the jury said it believes "these

two offices should be combined to achieve greater efficiency and reduce
the cost of administration". The City Purchasing Department,
the jury said, "is lacking in experienced clerical personnel
as a result of city personnel policies". It urged that the city "take
steps to remedy" this problem. Implementation of Georgia's
automobile title law was also recommended by the outgoing jury.

It urged that the next Legislature "provide enabling funds

and re-set the effective date so that an orderly implementation of
the law may be effected". The grand jury took a swipe at the
State Welfare Department's handling of federal funds granted for
child welfare services in foster homes. "This is one of the
major items in the Fulton County general assistance program", the
jury said, but the State Welfare Department "has seen fit to distribute
these funds through the welfare departments of all the counties
in the state with the exception of Fulton County, which receives
none of this money. The jurors said they realize "a proportionate
distribution of these funds might disable this program in our less
populous counties". Nevertheless, "we feel that in the
future Fulton County should receive some portion of these available
funds", the jurors said. "Failure to do this will continue to place
a disproportionate burden" on Fulton taxpayers. The jury
also commented on the Fulton ordinary's court which has been under
fire for its practices in the appointment of appraisers, guardians and
administrators and the awarding of fees and compensation.

#WARDS PROTECTED#

The jury said it found the court "has incorporated into

its operating procedures the recommendations" of two previous grand
juries, the Atlanta Bar Association and an interim citizens committee.

"These actions should serve to protect in fact and in effect the court's wards from
undue costs and its appointed and elected servants from unmeritorious criticisms",
the jury said. Regarding Atlanta's new multi-million-dollar airport, the jury
recommended "that when the new management takes charge Jan& 1 the airport be
operated in a manner that will eliminate political influences".

The jury did not elaborate, but it added that "there should be periodic
surveillance of the pricing practices of the concessionaires for the purpose of
keeping the prices reasonable".

#ASK JAIL DEPUTIES#

On other matters, the jury recommended that: _(1)_ Four additional deputies be
employed at the Fulton County Jail and "a doctor, medical intern or extern be
employed for night and weekend duty at the jail". _(2)_ Fulton legislators "work
with city officials to pass enabling legislation that will permit the establishment
of a fair and equitable" pension plan for city employes.

The jury praised the administration and operation of the Atlanta Police Department,
the Fulton Tax Commissioner's Office, the Bellwood and Alpharetta prison farms,
Grady Hospital and the Fulton Health Department.

Mayor William B& Hartsfield filed suit for divorce from his wife, Pearl Williams
Hartsfield, in Fulton Superior Court Friday. His petition charged mental cruelty.
The couple was married Aug& 2, 1913. They have a son, William Berry Jr&, and a
daughter, Mrs& J& M& Cheshire of Griffin. Attorneys for the mayor said that an
amicable property settlement has been agreed upon. The petition listed the
mayor's occupation as "attorney" and his age as 71. It listed his wife's age as 74
and place of birth as Opelika, Ala&. The petition said that the couple has not
lived together as man and wife for more than a year.

The Hartsfield home is at 637 E& Pelham Rd& ~NE.

Henry L& Bowden was listed on the petition as the mayor's attorney.

Hartsfield has been mayor of Atlanta, with exception of one brief interlude, since
1937. His political career goes back to his election to city council in 1923. The
mayor's present term of office expires Jan& 1. He will be succeeded by Ivan Allen
Jr&, who became a candidate in the Sept& 13 primary after Mayor Hartsfield
announced that he would not run for reelection.

Georgia Republicans are getting strong encouragement to enter a candidate in the

1962 governor's race, a top official said Wednesday.

Robert Snodgrass, state ~GOP chairman, said a meeting held Tuesday night in Blue
Ridge brought enthusiastic responses from the audience. State Party Chairman
James W& Dorsey added that enthusiasm was picking up for a state rally to be held
Sept& 8 in Savannah at which newly elected Texas Sen& John Tower will be the
featured speaker. In the Blue Ridge meeting, the audience was warned that
entering a candidate for governor would force it to take petitions out into voting
precincts to obtain the signatures of registered voters. Despite the warning,
there was a unanimous vote to enter a candidate, according to Republicans who
attended.

When the crowd was asked whether it wanted to wait one more term to make the race,
it voted no- and there were no dissents.

The largest hurdle the Republicans would have to face is a

state law which says that before making a first race, one of two alternative
courses must be taken: _1._ Five per cent of the voters
in each county must sign petitions requesting that the Republicans be
allowed to place names of candidates on the general election ballot,
or _2._ The Republicans must hold a primary under the county unit
system- a system which the party opposes in its platform.

Sam Caldwell, State Highway Department public relations director,

resigned Tuesday to work for Lt& Gov& Garland Byrd's
campaign. Caldwell's resignation had been expected for some
time. He will be succeeded by Rob Ledford of Gainesville, who has
been an assistant more than three years. When the gubernatorial campaign
starts, Caldwell is expected to become a campaign coordinator for
Byrd.

The Georgia Legislature will wind up its 1961 session Monday

and head for home- where some of the highway bond money it approved
will follow shortly. Before adjournment Monday afternoon, the
Senate is expected to approve a study of the number of legislators
allotted to rural and urban areas to determine what adjustments should
be made. Gov& Vandiver is expected to make the traditional
visit to both chambers as they work toward adjournment. Vandiver likely
will mention the $100 million highway bond issue approved earlier
in the session as his first priority item.

#CONSTRUCTION BONDS#

Meanwhile,
it was learned the State Highway Department is very near
being ready to issue the first $30 million worth of highway reconstruction
bonds. The bond issue will go to the state courts for a
friendly test suit to test the validity of the act, and then the sales
will begin and contracts let for repair work on some of Georgia's
most heavily traveled highways. A Highway Department source
said there also is a plan there to issue some $3 million to $4 million
worth of Rural Roads Authority bonds for rural road construction work.

#A REVOLVING FUND#

The department apparently intends to make

the Rural Roads Authority a revolving fund under which new bonds would
be issued every time a portion of the old ones are paid off by tax
authorities. Vandiver opened his race for governor in 1958 with
a battle in the Legislature against the issuance of $50 million worth
of additional rural roads bonds proposed by then Gov& Marvin
Griffin. The Highway Department source told The Constitution,
however, that Vandiver has not been consulted yet about the plans
to issue the new rural roads bonds.

Schley County Rep& B& D& Pelham will offer a resolution

Monday in the House to rescind the body's action of Friday in
voting itself a $10 per day increase in expense allowances. Pelham
said Sunday night there was research being done on whether the
"quickie" vote on the increase can be repealed outright or whether
notice would have to first be given that reconsideration of the action
would be sought. While emphasizing that technical details were
not fully worked out, Pelham said his resolution would seek to set
aside the privilege resolution which the House voted through 87-31.

A similar resolution passed in the Senate by a vote of 29-5.

As of Sunday night, there was no word of a resolution being offered
there to rescind the action. Pelham pointed out that Georgia
voters last November rejected a constitutional amendment to allow legislators
to vote on pay raises for future Legislature sessions.

A veteran Jackson County legislator will ask the Georgia House

Monday to back federal aid to education, something it has consistently
opposed in the past. Rep& Mac Barber of Commerce is
asking the House in a privilege resolution to "endorse increased federal
support for public education, provided that such funds be received
and expended" as state funds. Barber, who is in his 13th
year as a legislator, said there "are some members of our congressional
delegation in Washington who would like to see it (the resolution)
passed". But he added that none of Georgia's congressmen specifically
asked him to offer the resolution. The resolution, which
Barber tossed into the House hopper Friday, will be formally read
Monday. It says that "in
the event Congress does provide this increase in federal funds", the
State Board of Education should be directed to "give priority"
to teacher pay raises. _COLQUITT_- After a long, hot controversy,
Miller County has a new school superintendent, elected, as a
policeman put it, in the "coolest election I ever saw in this county".

The new school superintendent is Harry Davis, a veteran

agriculture teacher, who defeated Felix Bush, a school principal and
chairman of the Miller County Democratic Executive Committee.

Davis received 1,119 votes in Saturday's election, and Bush

got 402. Ordinary Carey Williams, armed with a pistol, stood by at
the polls to insure order. "This was the coolest, calmest
election I ever saw", Colquitt Policeman Tom Williams said. "Being
at the polls was just like being at church. I didn't smell
a drop of liquor, and we didn't have a bit of trouble". The
campaign leading to the election was not so quiet, however. It was
marked by controversy, anonymous midnight phone calls and veiled threats
of violence. The former county school superintendent, George
P& Callan, shot himself to death March 18, four days after he
resigned his post in a dispute with the county school board. During
the election campaign, both candidates, Davis and Bush, reportedly
received anonymous telephone calls. Ordinary Williams said he,
too, was subjected to anonymous calls soon after he scheduled the election.

Many local citizens feared that there would be irregularities

at the polls, and Williams got himself a permit to carry a gun
and promised an orderly election. Sheriff Felix Tabb said the
ordinary apparently made good his promise. "Everything went
real smooth", the sheriff said. "There wasn't a bit of trouble".
_AUSTIN, TEXAS_- Committee approval of Gov& Price Daniel's
"abandoned property" act seemed certain Thursday despite the adamant
protests of Texas bankers. Daniel personally led the fight
for the measure, which he had watered down considerably since its
rejection by two previous Legislatures, in a public hearing before
the House Committee on Revenue and Taxation. Under committee
rules, it went automatically to a subcommittee for one week. But
questions with which committee members taunted bankers appearing as witnesses
left little doubt that they will recommend passage of it.

Daniel termed "extremely conservative" his estimate that it would

produce 17 million dollars to help erase an anticipated deficit of
63 million dollars at the end of the current fiscal year next Aug&
31. He told the committee the measure would merely provide means
of enforcing the escheat law which has been on the books "since
Texas was a republic". It permits the state to take over bank accounts,
stocks and other personal property of persons missing for seven
years or more. The bill, which Daniel said he drafted personally,
would force banks, insurance firms, pipeline companies and other
corporations to report such property to the state treasurer. The escheat
law cannot be enforced now because it is almost impossible to locate
such property, Daniel declared. Dewey Lawrence, a Tyler
lawyer representing the Texas Bankers Association, sounded the opposition
keynote when he said it would force banks to violate their contractual
obligations with depositors and undermine the confidence of bank
customers. "If you destroy confidence in banks, you do something
to the economy", he said. "You take out of circulation many
millions of dollars". Rep& Charles E& Hughes of Sherman,
sponsor of the bill, said a failure to enact it would amount "to
making a gift out of the taxpayers' pockets to banks, insurance
and pipeline companies". His contention was denied by several
bankers, including Scott Hudson of Sherman, Gaynor B& Jones
of Houston, J& B& Brady of Harlingen and Howard Cox of Austin.

Cox argued that the bill is "probably unconstitutional"

since, he said, it would impair contracts. He also complained
that not enough notice was given on the hearing, since the bill was
introduced only last Monday.

_AUSTIN, TEXAS_- Senators unanimously approved Thursday the bill

of Sen& George Parkhouse of Dallas authorizing establishment
of day schools for the deaf in Dallas and the four other largest counties.

The bill is designed to provide special schooling for more

deaf students in the scholastic age at a reduced cost to the state.

There was no debate as the Senate passed the bill on to the

House. It would authorize the Texas Education Agency to establish
county-wide day schools for the deaf in counties of 300,000 or
more population, require deaf children between 6 and 13 years of age
to attend the day schools, permitting older ones to attend the residential
Texas School for the Deaf here. Operating budget for the
day schools in the five counties of Dallas, Harris, Bexar, Tarrant
and El Paso would be $451,500, which would be a savings of $157,460
yearly after the first year's capital outlay of $88,000 was absorbed,
Parkhouse told the Senate. The ~TEA estimated there
would be 182 scholastics to attend the day school in Dallas County,
saving them from coming to Austin to live in the state deaf school.
#@#

{DALLAS MAY GET} to hear a debate on horse race

parimutuels
soon between Reps& V& E& (Red) Berry and Joe Ratcliff.

While details are still be to worked out, Ratcliff said

he expects to tell home folks in Dallas why he thinks Berry's proposed
constitutional amendment should be rejected. "We're
getting more 'pro' letters than 'con' on horse race betting",
said Ratcliff. "But I believe if people were better informed on
this question, most of them would oppose it also. I'm willing to stake
my political career on it". Rep& Berry, an ex-gambler
from San Antonio, got elected on his advocacy of betting on the ponies.
A House committee which heard his local option proposal is expected
to give it a favorable report, although the resolution faces hard
sledding later. #@#

{THE HOUSE} passed finally, and

sent
to the Senate, a bill extending the State Health Department's
authority to give planning assistance to cities. #@#

{THE
SENATE}
quickly whipped through its meager fare of House bills approved
by committees, passing the three on the calendar. One validated acts
of school districts. Another enlarged authority of the Beaumont
Navigation District. The third amended the enabling act for
creation of the Lamar county Hospital District, for which a special
constitutional amendment previously was adopted. #@#

{WITHOUT
DISSENT},
senators passed a bill by Sen& A& R& Schwartz
of Galveston authorizing establishment in the future of a school for
the mentally retarded in the Gulf Coast district. Money for its construction
will be sought later on but in the meantime the State Hospital
board can accept gifts and donations of a site. #@#

{TWO
TAX REVISION}
bills were passed. One, by Sen& Louis Crump of
San Saba, would aid more than 17,000 retailers who pay a group of
miscellaneous excise taxes by eliminating the requirement that each return
be notarized. Instead, retailers would sign a certificate of correctness,
violation of which would carry a penalty of one to five years
in prison, plus a $1,000 fine. It was one of a series of recommendations
by the Texas Research League. #@#

{THE OTHER BILL},

by Sen& A& M& Aikin Jr& of Paris, would relieve real
estate brokers, who pay their own annual licensing fee, from the $12 annual
occupation license on brokers in such as stocks and bonds. #@#

{NATURAL GAS}
public utility companies would be given the right
of eminent domain, under a bill by Sen& Frank Owen /3, of
El Paso, to acquire sites for underground storage reservoirs for gas.
#@#

{MARSHALL FORMBY} of Plainview, former chairman

of
the Texas Highway Commission, suggested a plan to fill by appointment
future vacancies in the Legislature and Congress, eliminating the
need for costly special elections. Under Formby's plan, an
appointee would be selected by a board composed of the governor, lieutenant
governor, speaker of the House, attorney general and chief justice
of the Texas Supreme Court.
_AUSTIN, TEXAS_- State representatives decided Thursday against
taking a poll on what kind of taxes Texans would prefer to pay.

An adverse vote of 81 to 65 kept in the State Affairs Committee

a bill which would order the referendum on the April 4 ballot, when
Texas votes on a U&S& senator. Rep& Wesley Roberts
of Seminole, sponsor of the poll idea, said that further delay in the
committee can kill the bill. The West Texan reported that
he had finally gotten Chairman Bill Hollowell of the committee to set
it for public hearing on Feb& 22. The proposal would have to receive
final legislative approval, by two-thirds majorities, before March
1 to be printed on the April 4 ballot, Roberts said. Opponents
generally argued that the ballot couldn't give enough information
about tax proposals for the voters to make an intelligent choice.

All Dallas members voted with Roberts, except Rep& Bill

Jones, who was absent.
_AUSTIN, TEXAS_- Paradise lost to the alleged water needs of Texas'
big cities Thursday. Rep& James Cotten of Weatherford
insisted that a water development bill passed by the Texas House
of Representatives was an effort by big cities like Dallas and Fort
Worth to cover up places like Paradise, a Wise County hamlet
of 250 people. When the shouting ended, the bill passed, 114
to 4, sending it to the Senate, where a similar proposal is being sponsored
by Sen& George Parkhouse of Dallas. Most of the fire
was directed by Cotten against Dallas and Sen& Parkhouse. The
bill would increase from $5,000,000 to $15,000,000 the maximum loan
the state could make to a local water project. Cotten construed
this as a veiled effort by Parkhouse to help Dallas and other large
cities get money which Cotten felt could better be spent providing
water for rural Texas. Statements by other legislators that
Dallas is paying for all its water program by local bonds, and that less
populous places would benefit most by the pending bill, did not sway
Cotten's attack. The bill's defenders were mostly small-town
legislators like J& W& Buchanan of Dumas, Eligio (Kika)
de la Garza of Mission, Sam F& Collins of Newton and Joe Chapman
of Sulphur Springs. "This is a poor boy's bill",
said Chapman. "Dallas and Fort Worth can vote bonds. This would
help the little peanut districts".
_AUSTIN, TEXAS_- A Houston teacher, now serving in the Legislature,
proposed Thursday a law reducing the time spent learning "educational
methods". Rep& Henry C& Grover, who teaches
history in the Houston public schools, would reduce from 24 to 12 semester
hours the so-called "teaching methods" courses required to
obtain a junior or senior high school teaching certificate. A normal
year's work in college is 30 semester hours. Grover also would
require junior-senior high teachers to have at least 24 semester hours
credit in the subject they are teaching. The remainder of the 4-year
college requirement would be in general subjects. "A person
with a master's degree in physics, chemistry, math or English,
yet who has not taken Education courses, is not permitted to teach in
the public schools", said Grover. College teachers in Texas
are not required to have the Education courses. Fifty-three
of the 150 representatives immediately joined Grover as co-signers
of the proposal.
_PARIS, TEXAS (SP&)_- The board of regents of Paris Junior
College has named Dr& Clarence Charles Clark of Hays, Kan&
as the school's new president. Dr& Clark will succeed Dr&
J& R& McLemore, who will retire at the close of the present
school term. Dr& Clark holds an earned Doctor of Education
degree from the University of Oklahoma. He also received a Master
of Science degree from Texas ~A+~I College and a Bachelor
of Science degree from Southwestern State College, Weatherford,
Okla&. In addition, Dr& Clark has studied at Rhode Island
State College and Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

During his college career, Dr& Clark was captain of his basketball
team and was a football letterman. Dr& Clark has served
as teacher and principal in Oklahoma high schools, as teacher and
athletic director at Raymondville, Texas, High School, as an instructor
at the University of Oklahoma, and as an associate professor
of education at Fort Hays, Kan&, State College. He has served
as a border patrolman and was in the Signal Corps of the U&S&
Army.
_DENTON, TEXAS (SP&)_- Principals of the 13 schools in the Denton
Independent School District have been re-elected for the 1961-62
session upon the recommendation of Supt& Chester O& Strickland.

State and federal legislation against racial discrimination in

employment was called for yesterday in a report of a "blue ribbon"
citizens committee on the aid to dependent children program.
The report, culminating a year long study of the ~ADC program in
Cook county by a New York City welfare consulting firm, listed 10
long range recommendations designed to reduce the soaring ~ADC
case load. The report called racial discrimination in employment "one
of the most serious causes of family breakdown, desertion, and ~ADC
dependency". #"MUST SOLVE PROBLEM"#

The monthly cost

of ~ADC to more than 100,000 recipients in the county is 4.4 million
dollars, said C& Virgil Martin, president of Carson Pirie
Scott + Co&, committee chairman. "We must solve the problems
which have forced these people to depend upon ~ADC for subsistence",
Martin said. The volume of ~ADC cases will decrease,
Martin reported, when the community is able to deal effectively
with two problems: Relatively limited skills and discrimination
in employment because of color. These, he said, are "two of the principal
underlying causes for family breakups leading to ~ADC".

#CALLS FOR EXTENSION#

Other recommendations made by the committee

are: Extension of the ~ADC program to all children in
need living with any relatives, including both parents, as a means of
preserving family unity. Research projects as soon as possible
on the causes and prevention of dependency and illegitimacy.

Several defendants in the Summerdale police burglary trial made

statements indicating their guilt at the time of their arrest, Judge
James B& Parsons was told in Criminal court yesterday.
The disclosure by Charles Bellows, chief defense counsel, startled
observers and was viewed as the prelude to a quarrel between the six
attorneys representing the eight former policemen now on trial.

Bellows made the disclosure when he asked Judge Parsons to grant

his client, Alan Clements, 30, a separate trial. Bellows made the request
while the all-woman jury was out of the courtroom.

#FEARS PREJUDICIAL
ASPECTS#

"The statements may be highly prejudicial to my

client", Bellows told the court. "Some of the defendants strongly
indicated they knew they were receiving stolen property. It is impossible
to get a fair trial when some of the defendants made statements
involving themselves and others". Judge Parsons leaned over
the bench and inquired, "You mean some of the defendants made statements
admitting this"? "Yes, your honor", replied
Bellows. "What this amounts to, if true, is that there will be a free-for-all
fight in this case. There is a conflict among the defendants".
_WASHINGTON, JULY 24_- President Kennedy today pushed aside other
White House business to devote all his time and attention to working
on the Berlin crisis address he will deliver tomorrow night to the
American people over nationwide television and radio. The
President spent much of the week-end at his summer home on Cape Cod
writing the first drafts of portions of the address with the help of
White House aids in Washington with whom he talked by telephone.

Shortly after the Chief Executive returned to Washington in midmorning

from Hyannis Port, Mass&, a White House spokesman said
the address text still had "quite a way to go" toward completion.

#DECISIONS ARE MADE#

Asked to elaborate, Pierre Salinger, White

House press secretary, replied, "I would say it's got to go
thru several more drafts". Salinger said the work President
Kennedy, advisers, and members of his staff were doing on the address
involved composition and wording, rather than last minute decisions
on administration plans to meet the latest Berlin crisis precipitated
by Russia's demands and proposals for the city.

The last 10 cases in the investigation of the Nov& 8 election

were dismissed yesterday by Acting Judge John M& Karns, who
charged that the prosecution obtained evidence "by unfair and fundamentally
illegal means". Karns said that the cases involved a
matter "of even greater significance than the guilt or innocence"
of the 50 persons. He said evidence was obtained "in violation of
the legal rights of citizens". Karns' ruling pertained to
eight of the 10 cases. In the two other cases he ruled that the state
had been "unable to make a case". Contempt proceedings originally
had been brought against 677 persons in 133 precincts by Morris J&
Wexler, special prosecutor.

#ISSUE JURY SUBPENAS#

Wexler
admitted in earlier court hearings that he issued grand jury subpenas
to about 200 persons involved in the election investigation, questioned
the individuals in the Criminal courts building, but did not take them
before the grand jury. Mayer Goldberg, attorney for election
judges in the 58th precinct of the 23d ward, argued this procedure
constituted intimidation. Wexler has denied repeatedly that coercion
was used in questioning. Karns said it was a "wrongful act"
for Wexler to take statements "privately and outside of the grand
jury room". He said this constituted a "very serious misuse"
of the Criminal court processes. "Actually, the abuse of the
process may have constituted a contempt of the Criminal court of Cook
county, altho vindication of the authority of that court is not the
function of this court", said Karns, who is a City judge in East
St& Louis sitting in Cook County court.
#FACED SEVEN CASES#

Karns had been scheduled this week to hear seven cases involving 35
persons. Wexler had charged the precinct judges in these cases with
"complementary" miscount of the vote, in which votes would be taken
from one candidate and given to another. The cases involved
judges in the 33d, 24th, and 42d precincts of the 31st ward, the 21st
and 28th precincts of the 29th ward, the 18th precinct of the 4th ward,
and the 9th precinct of the 23d ward. The case of the judges
in the 58th precinct of the 23d ward had been heard previously and taken
under advisement by Karns. Two other cases also were under advisement.

#CLAIMS PRECEDENT LACKING#

After reading his statement discharging

the 23d ward case, Karns told Wexler that if the seven cases
scheduled for trial also involved persons who had been subpenaed, he
would dismiss them.
_WASHINGTON, FEB& 9_- President Kennedy today proposed a mammoth
new medical care program whereby social security taxes on 70 million
American workers would be raised to pay the hospital and some other
medical bills of 14.2 million Americans over 65 who are covered by
social security or railroad retirement programs. The President,
in a special message to Congress, tied in with his aged care plan
requests for large federal grants to finance medical and dental scholarships,
build 20 new medical and 20 new dental schools, and expand child
health care and general medical research. The aged care plan,
similar to one the President sponsored last year as a senator, a
fight on Capitol hill. It was defeated in Congress last year.

#COST
UP TO $37 A YEAR#

It would be financed by boosting the social security

payroll tax by as much as $37 a year for each of the workers now
paying such taxes. The social security payroll tax is now 6
per cent- 3 per cent on each worker and employer- on the first $4,800
of pay per year. The Kennedy plan alone would boost the base to
$5,000 a year and the payroll tax to 6.5 per cent- 3.25 per cent each.
Similar payroll tax boosts would be imposed on those under the railroad
retirement system. The payroll tax would actually rise
to 7.5 per cent starting Jan& 1, 1963, if the plan is approved, because
the levy is already scheduled to go up by 1 per cent on that date
to pay for other social security costs.

#OUTLAYS WOULD INCREASE#

Officials estimated the annual tax boost for the medical plan would
amount to 1.5 billion dollars and that medical benefits paid out would
run 1 billion or more in the first year, 1963. Both figures would go
higher in later years. Other parts of the Kennedy health plan
would entail federal grants of 750 million to 1 billion dollars over
the next 10 years. These would be paid for out of general, not payroll,
taxes.

#NURSING HOME CARE#

The aged care plan carries these

benefits for persons over 65 who are under the social security and railroad
retirement systems: _1._ Full payment of hospital bills for
stays up to 90 days for each illness, except that the patient would
pay $10 a day of the cost for the first nine days. _2._ Full payment
of nursing home bills for up to 180 days following discharge from
a hospital. A patient could receive up to 300 days paid-for nursing
home care under a "unit formula" allowing more of such care for those
who use none or only part of the hospital-care credit. _3._ Hospital
outpatient clinic diagnostic service for all costs in excess
of $20 a patient. _4._ Community visiting nurse services at home
for up to 240 days an illness. The President noted that Congress
last year passed a law providing grants to states to help pay medical
bills of the needy aged.

#CALLS PROPOSAL MODEST#

He said his
plan is designed to "meet the needs of those millions who have no wish
to receive care at the taxpayers' expense, but who are nevertheless
staggered by the drain on their savings- or those of their children-
caused by an extended hospital stay". "This is a very
modest proposal cut to meet absolutely essential needs", he said,
"and with sufficient 'deductible' requirements to discourage any
malingering or unnecessary overcrowding of our hospitals. "This
is not a program of socialized medicine. It is a program of prepayment
of health costs with absolute freedom of choice guaranteed. Every
person will choose his own doctor and hospital".

#WOULDN'T
PAY DOCTORS#

The plan does not cover doctor bills. They would still
be paid by the patient. Apart from the aged care plan the President's
most ambitious and costly proposals were for federal scholarships,
and grants to build or enlarge medical and dental schools.

The President said the nation's 92 medical and 47 dental schools

cannot now handle the student load needed to meet the rising need
for health care. Moreover, he said, many qualified young people are
not going into medicine and dentistry because they can't afford the
schooling costs.

#CONTRIBUTIONS TO SCHOOLS#

The scholarship plan

would
provide federal contributions to each medical and dental school equal
to $1,500 a year for one-fourth of the first year students. The
schools could use the money to pay 4-year scholarships, based on need,
of up to $2,000 a year per student. In addition, the government
would pay a $1,000 "cost of education" grant to the schools for
each $1,500 in scholarship grants. Officials estimated the combined
programs would cost
5.1 million dollars the first year and would go up to 21
millions by 1966. The President recommended federal "matching
grants" totaling 700 million dollars in 10 years for constructing
new medical and dental schools or enlarging the capacity of existing
ones.

#MORE FOR NURSING HOMES#

In the area of "community health
services", the President called for doubling the present 10 million
dollar a year federal grants for nursing home construction. He asked
for another 10 million dollar "initial" appropriation for "stimulatory
grants" to states to improve nursing homes. He further
proposed grants of an unspecified sum for experimental hospitals.

In the child health field, the President said he will recommend

later an increase in funds for programs under the children's bureau.
He also asked Congress to approve establishment of a national
child health institute.

#ASKS RESEARCH FUNDS#

The President said

he will ask Congress to increase grants to states for vocational rehabilitation.
He did not say by how much. For medical research
he asked a 20 million dollar a year increase, from 30 to 50 millions,
in matching grants for building research facilities. The President
said he will also propose increasing, by an unspecified amount, the 540
million dollars in the 1961-62 budget for direct government research
in medicine. The President said his proposals combine the "indispensable
elements in a sound health program- people, knowledge,
services, facilities, and the means to pay for them".

#REACTION
AS EXPECTED#

Congressional reaction to the message was along expected

lines. Legislators who last year opposed placing aged-care under
the social security system criticized the President's plan. Those
who backed a similar plan last year hailed the message. Senate
Republican Leader Dirksen [Ill&] and House Republican Leader
Charles Halleck [Ind&] said the message did not persuade them
to change their opposition to compulsory medical insurance. Halleck
said the voluntary care plan enacted last year should be given a fair
trial first. House Speaker Sam Rayburn [D&, Tex&]
called the Kennedy program "a mighty fine thing", but made no prediction
on its fate in the House.
_WASHINGTON, FEB& 9_- Acting hastily under White House pressure,
the Senate tonight confirmed Robert C& Weaver as the nation's
federal housing chief. Only 11 senators were on the floor
and there was no record vote. A number of scattered "ayes" and
"noes" was heard. Customary Senate rules were ignored in
order to speed approval of the Negro leader as administrator of the housing
and home finance agency. In the last eight years, all
Presidential appointments, including those of cabinet rank, have been
denied immediate action because of a Senate rule requiring at least
a 24 hour delay after they are reported to the floor.

#ENFORCE BY DEMAND#

The rule was enforced by demand of Sen& Wayne Morse [D&,

Ore&] in connection with President Eisenhower's cabinet
selections in 1953 and President Kennedy's in 1961.
_OSLO_ The most positive element to emerge from the Oslo meeting
of North Atlantic Treaty Organization Foreign Ministers has been
the freer, franker, and wider discussions, animated by much better mutual
understanding than in past meetings. This has been a working
session of an organization that, by its very nature, can only proceed
along its route step by step and without dramatic changes. In Oslo,
the ministers have met in a climate of candor, and made a genuine
attempt to get information and understanding one another's problems.

This atmosphere of understanding has been particularly noticeable

where relations are concerned between the "colonialist" powers
and those who have never, or not for a long time, had such problems.
The nightmare of a clash between those in trouble in Africa, exacerbated
by the difficulties, changes, and tragedies facing them, and other
allies who intellectually and emotionally disapprove of the circumstances
that have brought these troubles about, has been conspicious by
its absence.

#EXPLOSION AVOIDED#

In the case of Portugal, which

a few weeks ago was rumored ready to walk out of the ~NATO Council
should critics of its Angola policy prove harsh, there has been
a noticeable relaxation of tension. The general, remarkably courteous,
explanation has left basic positions unchanged, but there has been
no explosion in the council. There should even be no more bitter surprises
in the ~UN General Assembly as to ~NATO members' votes,
since a new ad hoc ~NATO committee has been set up so that
in the future such topics as Angola will be discussed in advance.

Canada alone has been somewhat out of step with the Oslo attempt
to get all the allied cars back on the track behind the ~NATO
locomotive. Even Norway, despite daily but limited manifestations against
atomic arms in the heart of this northernmost capital of the alliance,
is today closer to the ~NATO line. On the negative
side of the balance sheet must be set some disappointment that the
United States leadership has not been as much in evidence as hoped for.
One diplomat described the tenor of Secretary of State Dean Rusk's
speeches as "inconclusive". But he hastened to add that,
if United States policies were not always clear, despite Mr& Rusk's
analysis of the various global danger points and setbacks for the
West, this may merely mean the new administration has not yet firmly
fixed its policy.

#EXPLORATORY MOOD#

A certain vagueness may also

be caused by tactical appreciation of the fact that the present council
meeting is a semipublic affair, with no fewer than six Soviet correspondents
accredited. The impression has nevertheless been
given during these three days, despite Mr& Rusk's personal popularity,
that the United States delegation came to Oslo in a somewhat
tentative and exploratory frame of mind, more ready to listen and learn
than to enunciate firm policy on a global scale with detailed application
to individual danger spots. The Secretary of State
himself, in his first speech, gave some idea of the tremendous march of
events inside and outside the United States that has preoccupied the
new administration in the past four months. But where the core
of ~NATO is concerned, the Secretary of State has not only
reiterated the United States' profound attachment to the alliance,
"cornerstone" of its foreign policy, but has announced that five
nuclear submarines will eventually be at ~NATO's disposal in
European waters. The Secretary of State has also solemnly repeated
a warning to the Soviet Union that the United States will
not stand for another setback in Berlin, an affirmation once again taken
up by the council as a whole.

#CONFLICT SURVEYED#

The secretary's
greatest achievement is perhaps the rekindling of ~NATO realization
that East-West friction, wherever it take place around the
globe, is in essence the general conflict between two entirely different
societies, and must be treated as such without regard to geographical
distance or lack of apparent connection. The annual spring
meeting has given an impetus in three main directions: more, deeper,
and more timely political consultation within the alliance, the use
of the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (when
ratified) as a method of coordinating aid to the underdeveloped countries,
and the need for strengthening conventional forces as well as the
maintenance of the nuclear deterrent. This increase in the
"threshold", as the conventional forces strengthening is called, will
prove one of the alliance's most difficult problems in the months
to come. Each ally will have to carry out obligations long since laid
down, but never completely fulfilled.
_WASHINGTON_ The Kennedy administration moves haltingly toward a
Geneva conference on Laos just as serious debate over its foreign policy
erupts for the first time. There is little optimism here
that the Communists will be any more docile at the conference table
than they were in military actions on the ground in Laos. The
United States, State Department officials explain, now is mainly
interested in setting up an international inspection system which will
prevent Laos from being used as a base for Communist attacks on neighboring
Thailand and South Viet Nam. They count on the aid
of the neutral countries attending the Geneva conference to achieve
this. The United States hopes that any future Lao Cabinet
would not become Communist dominated. But it is apparent that no acceptable
formula has been found to prevent such a possibility.

#POLICIES MODIFIED#

The inclination here is to accept a de facto cease-fire

in Laos, rather than continue to insist on a verification of the
cease-fire by the international control commission before participating
in the Geneva conference. This is another of the modifications
of policy on Laos that the Kennedy administration has felt compelled
to make. It excuses these actions as being the chain reaction to
basic errors made in the previous administration. Its spokesmen
insist that there has not been time enough to institute reforms in
military and economic aid policies in the critical areas. But
with the months moving on- and the immediate confrontations with the
Communists showing no gain for the free world- the question arises:

How effective have Kennedy administration first foreign policy

decisions been in dealing with Communist aggression? Former
Vice-President Richard M& Nixon in Detroit called for a
firmer and tougher policy toward the Soviet Union. He was critical
of what he feels is President Kennedy's tendency to be too conciliatory.

#~GOP RESTRAINED#
It does not take a Gallup poll to
find out that most Republicans in Congress feel this understates the
situation as Republicans see it. They can hardly restrain themselves
from raising the question of whether Republicans, if they had been
in power, would have made "amateurish and monumental blunders" in
Cuba. One Republican senator told this correspondent that he
was constantly being asked why he didn't attack the Kennedy administration
on this score. His reply, he said, was that he agreed to the
need for unity in the country now. But he further said that it was
better politics to let others question the wisdom of administration policies
first. The Republicans some weeks ago served notice through
Senator Thruston B& Morton (~R) of Kentucky, chairman
of the Republican National Committee, that the Kennedy administration
would be held responsible if the outcome in Laos was a coalition
government susceptible of Communist domination. Kennedy administration
policies also have been assailed now from another direction
by 70 Harvard, Boston University, Brandeis, and Massachusetts Institute
of Technology educators.

#DETENTE URGED#

This group pleads

with the administration to "give no further support for the invasion
of Cuba by exile groups". It recommends that the United States
"seek instead to detach the Castro regime from the Communist bloc
by working for a diplomatic detente and a resumption of trade relations;
and concentrate its constructive efforts on eliminating in other
parts of Latin America the social conditions on which totalitarian
nationalism feeds". Mr& Nixon, for his part, would oppose
intervention in Cuba without specific provocation. But he did recommend
that President Kennedy state clearly that if Communist countries
shipped any further arms to Cuba that it would not be tolerated.

Until the Cuban fiasco and the Communist military victories

in Laos,
almost any observer would have said that President Kennedy had blended
a program that respected, generally, the opinions voiced both by
Mr& Nixon and the professors.

#AID PLANS REVAMPED#

Very early
in his administration he informed the Kremlin through diplomatic channels,
a high official source disclosed, that the new administration
would react even tougher than the Eisenhower administration would during
the formative period of the administration. Strenuous efforts
were made to remove pin pricking from administration statements. Policies
on nuclear test ban negotiations were reviewed and changed. But
thus far there has been no response in kind. Foreign aid programs
were revamped to give greater emphasis to economic aid and to
encourage political reform in recipient nations. In Laos, the
administration looked at the Eisenhower administration efforts to show
determination by sailing a naval fleet into Southeast Asian waters
as a useless gesture. Again and again it asked the Communists
to "freeze" the military situation in Laos. But the Communists
aided the Pathet Lao at an even faster rate. And after several
correspondents went into Pathet Lao territory and exposed the
huge build-up,
administration spokesmen acclaimed them for performing a
"great service" and laid the matter before the Southeast Asia Treaty
Organization. ~SEATO was steamed up and prepared
contingency plans for coping with the military losses in Laos. But
the Communists never gave sufficient provocation at any one time for
the United States to want to risk a limited or an all-out war over Laos.
(Some ~SEATO nations disagreed, however.) There
was the further complication that the administration had very early concluded
that Laos was ill suited to be an ally, unlike its more determined
neighbors, Thailand and South Viet Nam. The administration
declared itself in favor of a neutralized Laos. The pro-Western
government, which the United States had helped in a revolt against
the Souvanna Phouma "neutralist" government, never did appear
to spark much fighting spirit in the Royal Lao Army. There
certainly was not any more energy displayed after it was clear the United
States would not back the pro-Western government to the hilt.

If the administration ever had any ideas that it could find an

acceptable alternative to Prince Souvanna Phouma, whom it felt was
too trusting of Communists, it gradually had to relinquish them.

One factor was the statement of Senator J& W& Fulbright (~D)
of Arkansas, chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee.
He declared on March 25 that the United States had erred a
year and a half ago by "encouraging the removal" of Prince Souvanna.
_WASHINGTON_ The White House is taking extraordinary steps to check
the rapid growth of juvenile delinquency in the United States.

The President is deeply concerned over this problem and its effect
upon the "vitality of the nation". In an important assertion
of national leadership in this field, he has issued an executive
order establishing the President's committee on Juvenile Delinquency
and Crime, to be supported and assisted by a Citizens Advisory
Council of recognized authorities on juvenile problems. The
President asks the support and cooperation of Congress in his efforts
through the enactment of legislation to provide federal grants to
states for specified efforts in combating this disturbing crime trend.

#OFFENSES MULTIPLY#

The President has also called upon the Attorney

General, the Secretary of Health, Education and Welfare, and
the Secretary of Labor to coordinate their efforts "in the development
of a program of federal leadership to assist states and local
communities in their efforts to cope with the problem. Simultaneously
the President announced Thursday the appointment of David L&
Hackett, a special assistant ot the Attorney General, as executive
director of the new Committee on Juvenile Delinquency and Youth
Crime. His sense of urgency in this matter stems from the
fact that court cases ond juvenile arrests have more than doubled since
1948, each year showing an increase in offenders. Among arrests
reported by the Federal Bureau of Investigation in 1959, about
half for burglary and larceny involved persons under 18 years of age.

East Providence should organize its civil defense setup and begin
by appointing a full-time director, Raymond H& Hawksley, the
present city ~CD head, believes. Mr& Hawksley said yesterday
he would be willing to go before the city council "or anyone
else locally" to outline his proposal at the earliest possible time.
East Providence now has no civil defense program. Mr& Hawksley,
the state's general treasurer, has been a part-time ~CD
director in the city for the last nine years. He is not interested in
being named a full-time director. Noting that President Kennedy
has handed the Defense Department the major responsibility for
the nation's civil defense program, Mr& Hawksley said the federal
government would pay half the salary of a full-time local director.

He expressed the opinion the city could hire a ~CD director

for about $3,500 a year and would only have to put up half that amount
on
a matching fund basis to defray the salary costs. Mr& Hawksley
said he believed there are a number of qualified city residents
who would be willing to take the full-time ~CD job. One of these
men is former Fire Chief John A& Laughlin, he said. Along
with a director, the city should provide a ~CD headquarters so
that pertinent information about the local organization would be centralized.
Mr& Hawksley said. One advantage that would come to
the city in having a full-time director, he said, is that East Providence
would become eligible to apply to the federal government for financial
aid in purchasing equipment needed for a sound civil defense
program. Matching funds also can be obtained for procurement of
such items as radios, sirens and rescue trucks, he said. Mr&
Hawksley believes that East Providence could use two more rescue
trucks, similar to the ~CD vehicle obtained several years ago and
now detailed to the Central Fire Station. He would assign
one of the rescue trucks to the Riverside section of the city and the
other to the Rumford area. Speaking of the present status of
civil defense in the city, Mr& Hawksley said he would be willing
to bet that not more than one person in a hundred would know what to
do or where to go in the event of an enemy attack. The Narragansett
Race Track grounds is one assembly point, he said, and a drive-in
theater in Seekonk would be another. Riverside residents would
go to the Seekonk assembly point. Mr& Hawksley said he was
not critical of city residents for not knowing what to do or where to
assemble in case of an air attack. Such vital information, he
said, has to be made available to the public frequently and at regular
intervals for residents to know. If the city council fails to
consider appointment of a full-time ~CD director, Mr& Hawksley
said, then he plans to call a meeting early in September so that a
civil defense organization will be developed locally. One of
the first things he would do, he said, would be to organize classes in
first aid. Other steps would be developed after information drifts down
to the local level from the federal government.

Rhode Island is going to examine its Sunday sales law with possible
revisions in mind. Governor Notte said last night he
plans to name a committee to make the study and come up with recommendations
for possible changes in time for the next session of the General
Assembly. The governor's move into the so-called "blue
law" controversy came in the form of a letter to Miss Mary R&
Grant, deputy city clerk of Central Falls. A copy was released to
the press. Mr& Notte was responding to a resolution adopted
by the Central Falls City Council on July 10 and sent to the state
house by Miss Grant. The resolution urges the governor to have a
complete study of the Sunday sales laws made with an eye to their revision
at the next session of the legislature. While the city
council suggested that the Legislative Council might perform the review,
Mr& Notte said that instead he will take up the matter with Atty&
Gen& J& Joseph Nugent to get "the benefit of his views".
He will then appoint the study committee with Mr& Nugent's
cooperation, the governor said. "I would expect the proposed
committee to hold public hearings", Mr& Notte said, "to obtain
the views of the general public and religious, labor and special-interest
groups affected by these laws". The governor wrote
Miss Grant that he has been concerned for some time "with the continuous
problem which confronts our local and state law enforcement officers
as a result of the laws regulating Sunday sales". The
attorney general has advised local police that it is their duty to enforce
the blue laws. Should there be evidence they are shirking, he has
said, the state police will step into the situation. There
has been more activity across the state line in Massachusetts than in
Rhode Island in recent weeks toward enforcement of the Sunday sales
laws. The statutes, similar in both the Bay State and Rhode Island
and dating back in some instances to colonial times, severely limit
the types of merchandise that may be sold on the Sabbath. The
Central Falls City Council expressed concern especially that more
foods be placed on the eligible list and that neighborhood grocery
and variety stores be allowed to do business on Sunday. The only
day they "have a chance to compete with large supermarkets is on
Sunday", the council's resolution said. The small shops "must
be retained, for they provide essential service to the community",
according to the resolution, which added that they "also are the source
of livelihood for thousands of our neighbors". It declares that
Sunday sales licenses provide "great revenue" to the local government.

The council advised the governor that "large supermarkets,

factory outlets and department stores not be allowed to do business"
on Sunday. They "operate on a volume basis", it was contended,
"and are not essential to provide the more limited but vital
shopping needs of the community".

Liberals and conservatives in both parties- Democratic and

Republican- should divorce themselves and form two independent parties,
George H& Reama, nationally known labor-management expert, said
here yesterday. Mr& Reama told the Rotary Club of Providence
at its luncheon at the Sheraton-Biltmore Hotel that about
half of the people in the country want the "welfare" type of government
and the other half want a free enterprise system. He suggested
that a regrouping of forces might allow the average voter a better pull
at the right lever for him on election day. He said he was "confessing
that I was a member of the Socialist Party in 1910".
That, he added, was when he was "a very young man, a machinist and
toolmaker by trade. "That was before I studied law. Some
of my fellow workers were grooming me for an office in the Socialist
Party. The lawyer with whom I studied law steered me off the Socialist
track. He steered me to the right track- the free enterprise track".

He said that when he was a Socialist in 1910, the party

called for government operation of all utilities and the pooling of
all resources. He suggested that without the Socialist Party ever
gaining a national victory, most of its original program has come to
pass under both major parties. Mr& Reama, who retired as vice
president of the American Screw Co& in 1955 said, "Both parties
in the last election told us that we need a five per cent growth
in the gross national product- but neither told us how to achieve it".

He said he favors wage increases for workers- "but manufacturers

are caught in a profit squeeze"- and raises should only
come when the public is conditioned to higher prices, he added.

Indicating the way in which he has turned his back on his 1910 philosophy,
Mr& Reama said: "A Socialist is a person who believes
in dividing everything he does not own". Mr& Reama, far from
really being retired, is engaged in industrial relations counseling.

A petition bearing the signatures of more than 1,700 Johnston

taxpayers was presented to the town council last night as what is hoped
will be the first step in obtaining a home rule charter for the town.

William A& Martinelli, chairman of the Citizens Group

of Johnston, transferred the petitions from his left hand to his right
hand after the council voted to accept them at the suggestion of Council
President Raymond Fortin Sr&. The law which governs
home rule charter petitions states that they must be referred to the
chairman of the board of canvassers for verification of the signatures
within 10 days and Mr& Martinelli happens to hold that post.

Mr& Martinelli explained that there should be more than enough

signatures to assure the scheduling of a vote on the home rule charter
and possible election of a nine member charter commission within 70
days. He explained that by law the council must establish procedures
for a vote on the issue within 60 days after the board of canvassers
completes its work. A difference of opinion arose between Mr&
Martinelli and John P& Bourcier, town solicitor, over the exact
manner in which the vote is handled. Mr& Martinelli has, in recent
weeks, been of the opinion that a special town meeting would be called
for the vote, while Mr& Bourcier said that a special election
might be called instead. Mr& Bourcier said that he had consulted
several Superior Court justices in the last week and received
opinions favoring both procedures. He assured Mr& Martinelli and
the council that he would study the correct method and report back to
the council as soon as possible. Mr& Martinelli said yesterday
that the Citizens Group of Johnston will meet again July 24 to
plan further strategy in the charter movement. He said that the group
has no candidates for the charter commission in mind at present, but
that it will undoubtedly endorse candidates when the time comes.

"After inspiring this, I think we should certainly follow through

on it", he declared. "It has become our responsibility and I
hope that the Citizens Group will spearhead the movement".
He said he would not be surprised if some of the more than 30 members
of the group are interested in running on the required non-partisan
ballot for posts on the charter commission. "Our most immediate
goal is to increase public awareness of the movement", he indicated,
"and to tell them what this will mean for the town". He expects
that if the present timetable is followed a vote will be scheduled
during the last week in September. Some opposition to the home
rule movement started to be heard yesterday, with spokesmen for the
town's insurgent Democratic leadership speaking out against the home
rule charter in favor of the model municipal league charter.
Increasing opposition can be expected in coming weeks, it was indicated.

Misunderstanding of the real meaning of a home rule charter

was cited as a factor which has caused the Citizens Group to obtain
signatures under what were termed "false pretenses". Several signers
affixed their names, it was learned, after being told that no tax
increase would be possible without consent of the General Assembly
and that a provision could be included in the charter to have the town
take over the Johnston Sanitary District sewer system.

Action on a new ordinance permitting motorists who plead guilty

to minor traffic offenses to pay fines at the local police station may
be taken at Monday's special North Providence Town Council meeting.

Council president Frank SanAntonio said yesterday

he may ask the council to formally request Town Solicitor Michael A&
Abatuno to draft the ordinance. At the last session of the
General Assembly, the town was authorized to adopt such an ordinance
as a means of making enforcement of minor offenses more effective.
Nothing has been done yet to take advantage of the enabling legislation.

At present all offenses must be taken to Sixth District

Court for disposition. Local police have hesitated to prosecute them
because of the heavy court costs involved even for the simplest offense.

_PLAINFIELD_- James P& Mitchell and Sen& Walter H& Jones

~R-Bergen, last night disagreed on the value of using as a campaign
issue a remark by Richard J& Hughes, Democratic gubernatorial
candidate, that the ~GOP is "Campaigning on the carcass
of Eisenhower Republicanism". Mitchell was for using it, Jones
against, and Sen& Wayne Dumont Jr& ~R-Warren did not
mention it when the three Republican gubernatorial candidates spoke
at staggered intervals before 100 persons at the Park Hotel.
The controversial remark was first made Sunday by Hughes at a Westfield
Young Democratic Club cocktail party at the Scotch Plains
Country Club. It was greeted with a chorus of boos by 500 women in
Trenton Monday at a forum of the State Federation of Women's Clubs.

Hughes said Monday, "It is the apparent intention of

the Republican Party to campaign on the carcass of what they call Eisenhower
Republicanism, but the heart stopped beating and the lifeblood
congealed after Eisenhower retired. Now he's gone, the Republican
Party is not going to be able to sell the tattered remains to the
people of the state". Sunday he had added, "We can love Eisenhower
the man, even if we considered him a mediocre president **h but
there is nothing left of the Republican Party without his leadership".

Mitchell said the statement should become a major issue

in the primary and the fall campaign. "How can a man with any degree
of common decency charge this"? he asked. The former secretary
of labor said he was proud to be an Eisenhower Republican "and proud
to have absorbed his philosophy" while working in his adminstration.

Mitchell said the closeness of the outcome in last fall's

Presidential election did not mean that Eisenhower Republicanism
was a dead issue.

#REGRETS ATTACK#

Jones said he regretted Hughes

had made a personal attack on a past president. "He is wrong to
inject Eisenhower into this campaign", he said, "because the primary
is being waged on state issues and I will not be forced into re-arguing
an old national campaign". The audience last night did
not respond with either applause or boos to mention of Hughes' remark.
Dumont spoke on the merit of having an open primary. He
then launched into what the issues should be in the campaign. State
aid to schools, the continuance of railroad passenger service, the proper
uses of surplus funds of the Port of New York Authority, and
making New Jersey attractive to new industry.

#DECRIES JOBLESSNESS#

Mitchell decried the high rate of unemployment in the state and said
the Meyner administration and the Republican-controlled State Senate
"Must share the blame for this". Nothing that Plainfield
last year had lost the Mack Truck Co& plant, he said industry will
not come into this state until there is tax reform. "But
I am not in favor of a sales or state income tax at this time", Mitchell
said. Jones, unhappy that the candidates were limited to
eight minutes for a speech and no audience questions, saved his barbs
for Mitchell. He said Mitchell is against the centralization of government
in Washington but looks to the Kennedy Administration for
aid to meet New Jersey school and transportation crises. "He
calls for help while saying he is against centralization, but you
can't have it both ways", Jones said. The state is now faced with
the immediate question of raising new taxes whether on utilities, real
estate or motor vehicles, he said, "and I challenge Mitchell to
tell the people where he stands on the tax issue".

#DEFENDS IKE#

Earlier, Mitchell said in a statement: "I think that all

Americans will resent deeply the statements made about President
Eisenhower by Richard J& Hughes. His reference to 'discredited
carcass' or 'tattered remains' of the president's leadership
is an insult to the man who led our forces to victory in the greatest
war in all history, to the man who was twice elected overwhelmingly by
the American people as president of the United States, and who has
been the symbol to the world of the peace-loving intentions of the
free
nations. "I find it hard to understand how anyone seeking
a position in public life could demonstrate such poor judgment and
bad taste. "Such a vicious statement can only have its origin
in the desire of a new political candidate to try to make his name known
by condemning a man of world stature. It can only rebound to Mr&
Hughes' discredit".

#SEES JONES AHEAD#

Sen& Charles W&

Sandman, ~R-Cape May, said today Jones will run well ahead
of his ~GOP opponents for the gubernatorial nomination. Sandman,
state campaign chairman for Jones, was addressing a meeting in the
Military Park Hotel, Newark, of Essex County leaders and campaign
managers for Jones. Sandman told the gathering that reports
from workers on a local level all over the state indicate that Jones
will be chosen the Republican Party's nominee with the largest majority
given a candidate in recent years. Sandman said: "The
announcement that Sen& Clifford Case ~R-N&J&, has decided
to spend all his available time campaigning for Mr& Mitchell
is a dead giveaway. It is a desperate effort to prop up a sagging candidate
who has proven he cannot answer any questions about New Jersey's
problems. "We have witnessed in this campaign the effort
to project Mr& Mitchell as the image of a unity candidate from
Washington. That failed. "We are now witnessing an effort
to transfer to Mr& Mitchell some of the glow of Sen& Case's
candidacy of last year. That, too, will fail". Sandman announced
the appointment of Mrs& Harriet Copeland Greenfield of 330
Woodland Ave&, Westfield, as state chairman of the Republican
Women for Jones Committee. Mrs& Greenfield is president
of the Westfield Women's Republican Club and is a Westfield county
committeewoman.

County Supervisor Weldon R& Sheets, who is a candidate for

the Democratic gubernatorial nomination, today called for an end to
paper ballots in those counties in the state which still use them. The
proposal, Sheets said, represents part of his program for election
reforms necessary to make democracy in New Jersey more than a "lip
service word". Sheets said that his proposed law would offer
state financing aid for the purchase of voting machines, enabling
counties to repay the loan over a 10-year period without interest or charge.
Sheets added that he would ask for exclusive use of voting machines
in the state by January, 1964. Although he pointed out
that mandatory legislation impinging on home rule is basically distasteful,
he added that the vital interest in election results transcended
county lines.

The candidacy of Mayor James J& Sheeran of West Orange,

for the Republican nomination for sheriff
of Essex County, was supported
today by Edward W& Roos, West Orange public safety commissioner.

Sheeran, a lawyer and former ~FBI man is running

against the Republican organization's candidate, Freeholder William
MacDonald, for the vacancy left by the resignation of Neil Duffy,
now a member of the State Board of Tax Appeals. "My
experience as public safety commissioner", Roos said, "has shown
me that the office of sheriff is best filled by a man with law enforcement
experience, and preferably one who is a lawyer. Jim Sheeran fits
that description".

_TRENTON_- William J& Seidel, state fire warden in the Department

of Conservation and Economic Development, has retired after
36 years of service. A citation from Conservation Commissioner
Salvatore A& Bontempo credits his supervision with a reduction
in the number of forest fires in the state. Seidel joined the
department in 1925 as a division fire warden after graduation in 1921
from the University of Michigan with a degree in forestry and employment
with private lumber companies. In October 1944, he was appointed
state warden and chief of the Forest Fire Section. Under
his supervision, the state fire-fighting agency developed such techniques
as plowing of fire lines and established a fleet of tractor plows
and tractor units for fire fighting. He also expanded and modernized
the radio system with a central control station. He introduced
regular briefing sessions for district fire wardens and first aid training
for section wardens. He is credited with setting up an annual
co-operative fire prevention program in co-operation with the Red Cross
and State Department of Education.

_BOONTON_- Richard J& Hughes made his Morris County debut

in his bid for the Democratic gubernatorial nomination here last night
with a pledge "to carry the issues to every corner of the state".

He promised nearly 200 Democratic county committee members

at the meeting in the Puddingstone Inn: "When I come back here
after the November election you'll think, 'You're my man-
you're the kind of governor we're glad we elected'". He
said, "We Democrats must resolve our issues on the test of what
is right and just, and not what is expedient at the time".

#ATTACKS
REPUBLICANS#

In his only attack on the Republicans, Hughes said,

"The three Republican candidates for governor are tripping over
their feet for popular slogans to win the primary. But we'll have
a liberal, well planned, forward looking, honest platform. We'll not
talk out of one side of our mouth in Morris County and out of the
other side in Hudson. "We'll take the truth to the people,
and the people will like the truth and elect their candidate and party
in November". He said, "You can see signs of the Republicans'
feeble attack on the Meyner administration. But I shall
campaign on the Meyner record to meet the needs of the years ahead".

He urged New Jersey to "become a full partner in the courageous

actions of President Kennedy". He called for a greater
attraction of industry and a stop to the piracy of industry by Southern
states, and a strong fight against discrimination in business and
industry. "We must keep the bloodstream of New Jersey clean",
the former Superior Court judge said. "To prevent hoodlums
from infiltrating the state as they did in the Republican administration
in the early 1940s". Calling the Democrats the "party
that lives, breathes and thinks for the good of the people", Hughes
asked, "a representative Democratic vote in the primary for a springboard
toward victory in November". Hughes supported Gov&
Meyner's "Green Acres" plan for saving large tracts of open
land from the onrush of urban development. He said legislation for
a $60 million bond issue to underwrite the program is expected to be
introduced Monday.

#CONSERVATION PLAN#

The plan will provide $45

million for purchase of open land by the state. The other $15 million
is to be alloted to municipalities on a matching fund basis.
Hughes said, "This is not a plan to conquer space- but to conserve
it", pointing out the state population has increased 125,000 each
year since 1950. He said "Morris County is rapidly changing and
unless steps are taken to preserve the green areas, there will be no
land
left to preserve". Hughes would not comment on tax reforms
or other issues in which the Republican candidates are involved. He
said no matter what stand he takes it would be misconstrued that he
was sympathetic to one or the other of the Republicans. "After the
primary", he promised, "I'll be explicit on where I stand to
bring you a strong, dynamic administration. I'm not afraid to tangle
with the Republican nominee".

_TRENTON_- Fifteen members of the Republican State Committee

who are retiring- voluntarily- this year were honored yesterday by
their colleagues. The outgoing members, whose four-year terms
will expire a week after the April 18 primary election, received carved
wooden elephants, complete with ivory tusks, to remember the state
committee by. There may be other 1961 state committee retirements
come April 18, but they will be leaving by choice of the Republican
voters. A special presentation was made to Mrs& Geraldine
Thompson of Red Bank, who is stepping down after 35 years on
the committee. She also was the original ~GOP national committeewoman
from New Jersey in the early 1920s following adoption of the women's
suffrage amendment. She served one four-year term on the national
committee.

Resentment welled up yesterday among Democratic district leaders

and some county leaders at reports that Mayor Wagner had decided
to seek a third term with Paul R& Screvane and Abraham D& Beame
as running mates. At the same time reaction among anti-organization
Democratic leaders and in the Liberal party to the Mayor's
reported plan was generally favorable. Some anti-organization
Democrats saw in the program an opportunity to end the bitter internal
fight within the Democratic party that has been going on for the
last three years. The resentment among Democratic organization
leaders to the reported Wagner plan was directed particularly at
the Mayor's efforts to name his own running mates without consulting
the leaders. Some viewed this attempt as evidence that Mr& Wagner
regarded himself as bigger than the party.

#OPPOSITION REPORTED#

Some Democratic district and county leaders are reported trying to

induce State Controller Arthur Levitt of Brooklyn to oppose Mr&
Wagner for the Mayoral nomination in the Sept& 7 Democratic
primary. These contend there is a serious question as to whether
Mr& Wagner has the confidence of the Democratic rank and file
in the city. Their view is that last-minute changes the Mayor is proposing
to make in the Democratic ticket only emphasize the weakness of
his performance as Mayor. In an apparent effort to head off
such a rival primary slate, Mr& Wagner talked by telephone yesterday
with Representative Charles A& Buckley, the Bronx Democratic
leader, and with Joseph T& Sharkey, the Brooklyn Democratic
leader.

#MAYOR VISITS BUCKLEY#

As usual, he made no attempt to get

in touch with Carmine G& De Sapio, the Manhattan leader. He
is publicly on record as believing Mr& De Sapio should be replaced
for the good of the party. Last night the Mayor visited Mr&
Buckley at the Bronx leader's home for a discussion of the situation.
Apparently he believes Mr& Buckley holds the key to the Democratic
organization's acceptance of his choices for running mates
without a struggle. In talks with Mr& Buckley last week
in Washington, the Mayor apparently received the Bronx leader's assent
to dropping Controller Lawrence E& Gerosa, who lives in the
Bronx, from this year's ticket. But Mr& Buckley seems to have
assumed he would be given the right to pick Mr& Gerosa's successor.

#SCREVANE AND BEAME HAILED#

The Mayor declined in two interviews

with reporters yesterday to confirm or deny the reports that he
had decided to run and wanted Mr& Screvane, who lives in Queens,
to replace Abe Stark, the incumbent, as the candidate for President
of the City Council and Mr& Beame, who lives in Brooklyn, to
replace Mr& Gerosa as the candidate for Controller. The
Mayor spoke yesterday at the United Irish Counties Feis on the Hunter
College Campus in the Bronx. After his speech, reporters asked
him about the report of his political intentions, published in yesterday's
New York Times. The Mayor said: "It didn't
come from me. But as I have said before, if I announce my candidacy,
I will have something definite to say about running mates".

_BOSTON, JUNE 16_- A wave of public resentment against corruption

in government is rising in Massachusetts. There is a tangible
feeling in the air of revulsion toward politics. The taxi driver
taking the visitor from the airport remarks that politicians in the state
are "all the same". "It's 'See Joe, see Jim'",
he says. "The hand is out". A political scientist writes
of the growth of "alienated voters", who "believe that voting
is useless because politicians or those who influence politicians are
corrupt, selfish and beyond popular control. **h These voters view the
political process as a secret conspiracy, the object of which is to
plunder them". Corruption is hardly a recent development in
the city and state that were widely identified as the locale of Edwin
O'Connor's novel, "The Last Hurrah". But there are reasons
for the current spotlight on the subject. A succession of
highly publicized scandals has aroused the public within the last year.
Graft in the construction of highways and other public works has brought
on state and Federal investigations. And the election of President
Kennedy has attracted new attention to the ethical climate of
his home state. A reader of the Boston newspapers can hardly
escape the impression that petty chicanery, or worse, is the norm in
Massachusetts
public life. Day after day some new episode is reported.

The state Public Works Department is accused of having spent

$8,555 to build a private beach for a state judge on his waterfront
property. An assistant attorney general is directed to investigate.

_WASHINGTON, JUNE 18_- Congress starts another week tomorrow with

sharply contrasting forecasts for the two chambers. In the
Senate, several bills are expected to pass without any major conflict
or opposition. In the House, the Southern-Republican coalition is
expected to make another major stand in opposition to the Administration's
housing bill, while more jockeying is expected in an attempt
to advance the aid-to-education bill. The housing bill is now
in the House Rules Committee. It is expected to be reported out Tuesday,
but this is a little uncertain. The panel's action depends
on the return of Representative James W& Trimble, Democrat
of Arkansas, who has been siding with Speaker Sam Rayburn's forces
in the Rules Committee in moving bills to the floor. Mr& Trimble
has been in the hospital but is expected back Tuesday.

#LEADERSHIP
IS HOPEFUL#

The housing bill is expected to encounter strong

opposition by the coalition of Southern Democrats and conservative
Republicans. The Democratic leadership, however, hopes to pass it
sometime this week. The $6,100,000,000 measure, which was passed
last Monday by the Senate, provides for forty-year mortgages at low
down-payments for moderate-income families. It also provides for funds
to clear slums and help colleges build dormitories. The education
bill appears to be temporarily stalled in the Rules Committee,
where two Northern Democratic members who usually vote with the
Administration are balking because of the religious controversy. They
are James J& Delaney of Queens and Thomas P& O'Neill Jr&
of Massachusetts.

#THREE GROUPS TO MEET#

What could rescue

the bill would be some quick progress on a bill amending the National
Defense Education Act of 1958. This would provide for long-term
Federal loans for construction of parochial and other private-school
facilities for teaching science, languages and mathematics.

Mr& Delaney and Mr& O'Neill are not willing to vote on the
public-school measure until the defense education bill clears the House
Education and Labor Committee.

About half of all Peace Corps projects assigned to voluntary

agencies will be carried out by religious groups, according to an official
of the corps. In the $40,000,000 budget that has been submitted
for Congressional approval, $26,000,000 would be spent through
universities and private voluntary agencies. Twelve projects
proposed by private groups are at the contract-negotiation stage, Gordon
Boyce, director of relations with the voluntary agencies, said in
a Washington interview. Six of these were proposed by religious groups.
They will be for teaching, agriculture and community development
in Southeast Asia, Africa, the Middle East and Latin America.

#QUESTION RAISED#

Interviews with several church leaders have disclosed

that this development has raised the question whether the Peace
Corps will be able to prevent confusion for church and state over
methods, means and goals. There are a number of ways this could
happen, the churchmen pointed out, and here is an example:
Last month in Ghana an American missionary discovered when he came
to pay his hotel bill that the usual rate had been doubled. When he protested,
the hotel owner said: "Why do you worry? The
U& S& Government is paying for it. The U& S& Government
pays for all its overseas workers".

#MISSIONARY
EXPLAINS#

"I don't work for the Government", the American

said. "I'm a missionary". The hotel owner shrugged.
"Same thing", he said. And then, some churchmen remarked,
there is a more classical church-state problem: Can religious
agencies use Government funds and Peace Corps personnel in their
projects and still preserve the constitutional requirement on separation
of church and state? R& Sargent Shriver Jr&, director
of the corps, is certain that they can. No religious group, he
declared in an interview, will receive Peace Corps funds unless it
forswears all proselytizing on the project it proposes.
_MOSCOW, JUNE 18_- At a gay party in the Kremlin for President
Sukarno of Indonesia, Premier Khrushchev pulled out his pockets
and said, beaming: "Look, he took everything I had"!
Mr& Khrushchev was jesting in the expansive mood of the successful
banker. Indonesia is one of the twenty under-developed countries of
Asia, Africa and Latin America that are receiving Soviet aid.

The Soviet Union and other members of the Communist bloc are rapidly
expanding their economic, technical and military assistance to
the uncommitted nations. The Communist countries allocated more
than $1,000,000,000 in economic aid alone last year, according to Western
estimates. This was the biggest annual outlay since the Communist
program for the under-developed countries made its modest beginning
in 1954. In 1960 more than 6,000 Communist technicians were present
in those countries.

_UNITED NATIONS, N& Y&, JUNE 18_- A committee of experts has

recommended that a country's population be considered in the distribution
of professional posts at the United Nations. This was disclosed
today by a responsible source amid intensified efforts by the Soviet
Union to gain a greater role in the staff and operation of the United
Nations. One effect of the proposal, which puts a premium
on population instead of economic strength, as in the past, would
be to take jobs from European nations and give more to such countries
as India. India is the most populous United Nations member with more
than 400,000,000 inhabitants. The new formula for filling
staff positions in the Secretariat is one of a number of recommendations
made by a panel of eight in a long and detailed report. The report
was completed after nearly eighteen months of work on the question of
the organization of the United Nations.

#FORMULA IS DUE THIS WEEK#

The Advisory Committee on Administrative and Budgetary Questions

is expected to receive the report this week. The jobs formula is
understood to follow these lines: _@_ Each of the organization's
ninety-nine members would get two professional posts, such as
political affairs officer, a department head or an economist, to start.
#@#

Each member would get one post for each 10,000,000 people
in its population up to 150,000,000 people or a maximum of fifteen posts.
#@#

Each member with a population above 150,000,000 would

get one additional post for each additional 30,000,000 people up to
an unspecified cut-off point.

_GENEVA, JUNE 18_- The three leaders of Laos agreed today to begin
negotiations tomorrow on forming a coalition government that would
unite the war-ridden kingdom. The decision was made in Zurich
by Prince Boun Oum, Premier of the pro-Western royal Government;
Prince Souvanna Phouma, leader of the nation's neutralists
and recognized as Premier by the Communist bloc, and Prince Souphanouvong,
head of the pro-Communist Pathet Lao forces. The latter
two are half-brothers. Their
joint statement was welcomed by the Western delegations who will attend
tomorrow the nineteenth plenary session of the fourteen-nation conference
on the future of Laos. An agreement among the Princes on a coalition
government would ease their task, diplomats conceded. But no
one was overly optimistic.

#TACTICS STUDIED IN GENEVA#

W& Averell
Harriman of the United States, Malcolm MacDonald of Britain,
Maurice Couve de Murville, France's Foreign Minister, and Howard
C& Green, Canada's Minister of External Affairs, concluded,
meanwhile, a round of consultations here on future tactics in the
conference. The pace of the talks has slowed with each passing week.

Princess Moune, Prince Souvanna Phouma's young daughter,

read the Princes' statement. They had a two-hour luncheon together
in "an atmosphere of cordial understanding and relaxation", she
said. The three Laotians agreed upon a six-point agenda for
their talks, which are to last three days. The Princess said
it was too early to say what would be decided if no agreement was reached
after three days.

#TO DEAL WITH PRINCIPLES#

The meetings in
Zurich, the statement said, would deal only with principles that would
guide the three factors in their search for a coalition Government.

Appointment of William S& Pfaff Jr&, 41, as promotion

manager
of The Times-Picayune Publishing Company was announced Saturday
by John F& Tims, president of the company. Pfaff succeeds
Martin Burke, who resigned. The new promotion manager
has been employed by the company since January, 1946, as a commercial
artist in the advertising department. He is a native of New
Orleans and attended Allen Elementary school, Fortier High school
and Soule business
college. From June, 1942, until December,
1945, Pfaff served in the Army Air Corps. While in the service
he attended radio school at Scott Field in Belleville, Ill&.

Before entering the service, Pfaff for five years did clerical
work with a general merchandising and wholesale firm in New Orleans.

He is married to the former Audrey Knecht and has a daughter,

Karol, 13. They reside at 4911 Miles dr&.

_WASHINGTON_- Thousands of bleacher-type seats are being erected

along Pennsylvania Avenue between the Capitol and the White House
for the big inaugural parade on Jan& 20. Assuming the
weather is halfway decent that day, hundreds of thousands of persons
will mass along this thoroughfare as President John F& Kennedy
and retiring President Dwight D& Eisenhower leave Capitol Hill
following the oath-taking ceremonies and ride down this historic ceremonial
route. Pennsylvania Avenue, named for one of the original
13 states, perhaps is not the most impressive street in the District
of Columbia from a commercial standpoint. But from a historic viewpoint
none can approach it.

#MANY BUILDINGS#
Within view of the
avenue are some of the United States government's tremendous buildings,
plus shrines and monuments. Of course, 1600 Pennsylvania, the
White House, is the most famous address of the free world.
Within an easy walk from Capitol Hill where Pennsylvania Avenue comes
together with Constitution Avenue, begins a series of great federal
buildings, some a block long and all about seven-stories high.

Great chapters of history have been recorded along the avenue, now
about 169 years old. In the early spring of 1913 a few hundred thousand
persons turned out to watch 5000 women parade. They were the suffragettes
and they wanted to vote. In the 1920 presidential election
they had that right and many of them did vote for the first time.

#SEATS
ON SQUARE#

Along this avenue which saw marching soldiers from

the War Between the States returning in 1865 is the National Archives
building where hundreds of thousands of this country's most valuable
records are kept. Also the department of justice building is
located where J& Edgar Hoover presides over the federal bureau of
investigation. Street car tracks run down the center of Pennsylvania,
powered with lines that are underground. Many spectators
will be occupying seats and vantage points bordering Lafayette Square,
opposite the White House. In this historic square are several
statutes, but the one that stands out over the others is that of Gen&
Andrew Jackson, hero of the Battle of New Orleans. Moving
past the presidential viewing stand and Lafayette Square will
be at least 40 marching units. About 16,000 military members of all
branches of the armed forces will take part in the parade. Division
one of the parade will be the service academies. Division two will
include the representations of Massachusetts and Texas, the respective
states of the President and of Vice-President L& B& Johnson.
Then will come nine other states in the order of their admission
to the union. Division three will be headed by the Marines
followed by 12 states; division four will be headed by the Navy,
followed by 11 states; division five, by the Air Force followed
by
11 states. Division six will be headed by the Coast Guard, followed
by the reserve forces of all services, five states, Puerto Rico, the
Virgin Islands, Guam, American Samoa, the trust territories and
the Canal Zone.

_JACKSON, MISS&_- What does 1961 offer in political and governmental

developments in Mississippi? Even for those who have
been observing the political scene a long time, no script from the past
is worth very much in gazing into the state's immediate political
future. This is largely because of the unpredictability of the
man who operates the helm of the state government and is the elected
leader of its two million inhabitants- Gov& Ross Barnett.

Barnett, who came into office with no previous experience in public

administration, has surrounded himself with confusion which not only
keeps his foes guessing but his friends as well. Consequently,
it is uncertain after nearly 12 months in office just which direction
the Barnett administration will take in the coming year.
#COULD
BE SCRAMBLE#

Some predict the administration will settle down during

1961 and iron out the rough edges which it has had thus far.
The builtin headache of the Barnett regime thus far has been the steady
stream of job-seekers and others who feel they were given commitments
by Barnett at some stage of his eight-year quest for the governor's
office. There are many who predict that should Barnett decide
to call the Legislature back into special session, it will really
throw his administration into a scramble. Certainly nobody
will predict that the next time the lawmakers come back together Barnett
will be able to enjoy a re-enactment of the strange but successful
"honeymoon" he had in the 1960 legislative session. If Barnett
doesn't call a special session in 1961, it will be the first
year in the last decade that the Legislature has not met in regular or
special session. The odds favor a special session, more than
likely early in the year.

#DISTRICTS ISSUE#

Legislators always get

restless for a special session (whether for the companionship or the
$22.50 per diem is not certain) and if they start agitating. Barnett
is not expected to be able to withstand the pressure. The issue
which may make it necessary to have a session is the highly sensitive
problem of cutting the state's congressional districts from six
to five to eliminate one congressional seat. With eyes focused
on the third congressional district, the historic Delta district, and
Congressman Frank E& Smith as the one most likely to go, the redistricting
battle will put to a test the longstanding power which lawmakers
from the Delta have held in the Legislature. Mississippi's
relations with the national Democratic party will be at a crossroads
during 1961, with the first Democratic president in eight years
in the White House. Split badly during the recent presidential
election into almost equally divided camps of party loyalists and
independents, the Democratic party in Mississippi is currently a wreck.
And there has been no effort since the election to pull it back together.

#FUTURE CLOUDED#

Barnett, as the titular head of the Democratic

party, apparently must make the move to reestablish relations
with the national Democratic party or see a movement come from the loyalist
ranks to completely bypass him as a party functionary.
With a Democratic administration, party patronage would normally begin
to flow to Mississippi if it had held its Democratic solidarity
in the November election. Now, the picture is clouded, and even
~US Sens& James O& Eastland and John C& Stennis, who
remained loyal to the ticket, are uncertain of their status.
Reports are that it is more than probability that the four congressmen
from Mississippi who did not support the party ticket will be stripped
of the usual patronage which flows to congressmen.

_BATON ROUGE, LA&_- The Gov& Jimmie H& Davis administration

appears to face a difficult year in 1961, with the governor's
theme of peace and harmony subjected to severe stresses. The
year will probably start out with segregation still the most troublesome
issue. But it might give way shortly to another vexing issue-
that of finances in state government. The transition from segregation
to finances might already be in progress, in the form of an administration
proposal to hike the state sales tax from 2 per cent to 3
per cent. The administration has said the sales tax proposal
is merely part of the segregation strategy, since the revenues from the
increase would be dedicated to a grant in aid program. But the
tardiness of the administration in making the dedication has caused
legislators to suspect the tax bill was related more directly to an over-all
shortage of cash than to segregation.

#LEGISLATORS WEARY#

Indeed, the administration's curious position on the sales tax was

a major factor in contributing to its defeat. The administration could
not say why $28 million was needed for a grant-in-aid program.

The effectiveness of the governor in clearing up some of the inconsistencies

revolving about the sales tax bill may play a part in determining
whether it can muster the required two-thirds vote. The
tax bill will be up for reconsideration Wednesday in the House when
the Legislature reconvenes. Davis may use the tax bill as a
means to effect a transition from special sessions of the Legislature
to normalcy. If it fails to pass, he can throw up his hands and
say the Legislature would not support him in his efforts to prevent
integration. He could terminate special sessions of the Legislature.

Actually,
Davis would have to toss in the towel soon anyway.
Many legislators are already weary and frustrated over the so-far losing
battle to block token integration. This is not the sort
of thing most politicos would care to acknowledge publicly. They would
like to convey the notion something is being done, even though it is
something they know to be ineffectual.

#UNDERLYING CONCERN#

Passage
of the sales tax measure would also give Davis the means to effect
a transition. He could tell the Legislature they had provided the
needed funds to carry on the battle. Then he could tell them to
go home, while the administration continued to wage the battle with
the $28 million in extra revenues the sales tax measure would bring in
over an eight months period. It is difficult to be certain how
the administration views that $28 million, since the views of one leader
may not be the same as the views of another one. But if
the administration should find it does not need the $28 million for a
grant-in-aid program, a not unlikely conclusion, it could very well seek
a way to use the money for other purposes. This would be in
perfect consonance with the underlying concern in the administration-
the shortage of cash. It could become an acute problem in the coming
fiscal year. If the administration does not succeed in passing
the sales tax bill, or any other tax bill, it could very well be
faced this spring at the fiscal session of the Legislature with an interesting
dilemma. Since the constitution forbids introduction
of a tax bill at a fiscal session, the administration will either have
to cut down expenses or inflate its estimates of anticipated revenues.

#CONSTANT PROBLEM#
In either case, it could call a special session
of the Legislature later in 1961 to make another stab at raising
additional revenues through a tax raiser. The prospect of cutting
back spending is an unpleasant one for any governor. It is one
that most try to avoid, as long as they can see an alternative approach
to the problem. But if all alternatives should be clearly
blocked
off, it can be expected the Davis administration will take steps
to trim spending at the spring session of the state Legislature.

This might be done to arouse those who have been squeezed out by
the trims to exert pressure on the Legislature, so it would be more
receptive to a tax proposal later in the year. A constant problem
confronting Davis on any proposals for new taxes will be the charge
by his foes that he has not tried to economize. Any tax bill
also will revive allegations that some of his followers have been using
their administration affiliations imprudently to profit themselves.

The new year might see some house-cleaning, either genuine or

token, depending upon developments, to give Davis an opportunity to
combat some of these criticisms.

City Controller Alexander Hemphill charged Tuesday that the

bids on the Frankford Elevated repair project were rigged to the advantage
of a private contracting company which had "an inside track"
with the city. Estimates of the city's loss in the $344,000
job have ranged as high as $200,000.

#'SHORTCUTS' UNNOTICED#

Hemphill said that the Hughes Steel Erection Co& contracted to

do the work at an impossibly low cost with a bid that was far less than
the "legitimate" bids of competing contractors. The Hughes
concern then took "shortcuts" on the project but got paid anyway,
Hemphill said. The Controller's charge of rigging was
the latest development in an investigation which also brought these
disclosures Tuesday: {The city has sued for the full amount
of the $172,400 performance bond covering the contract. The
Philadelphia Transportation Co& is investigating the part its
organization played in reviewing the project. The signature of
Harold V& Varani, former director of architecture and engineering
in the Department of Public Property, appeared on payment vouchers
certifying work on the project. Varani has been fired on charges of
accepting gifts from the contractor. Managing Director Donald
C& Wagner has agreed to cooperate fully with Hemphill after a
period of sharp disagreement on the matter}. The announcement
that the city would sue for recovery on the performance bond was made
by City Solicitor David Berger at a press conference following
a meeting in the morning with Wagner and other officials of the city
and the ~PTC as well as representatives of an engineering firm that
was pulled off the El project before its completion in 1959.

#CONCERN
BANKRUPT#

The Hughes company and the Consolidated Industries,

Inc&, both of 3646 N& 2d st&, filed for reorganization under
the Federal bankruptcy law. On Monday, the Hughes concern was formally
declared bankrupt after its directors indicated they could not
draw up a plan for reorganization. Business relations between
the companies and city have been under investigation by Hemphill and
District Attorney James C& Crumlish, Jr&.

#INTERVENES IN
CASE#

The suit was filed later in the day in Common Pleas Court
7 against the Hughes company and two bonding firms. Travelers Indemnity
Co& and the Continental Casualty Co&. At Berger's
direction, the city also intervened in the Hughes bankruptcy case
in U& S& District Court in a move preliminary to filing a claim
there. "I am taking the position that the contract was clearly
violated", Berger said. The contract violations mostly
involve failure to perform rehabilitation work on expansion joints along
the El track. The contract called for overhauling of 102 joints.
The city paid for work on 75, of which no more than 21 were repaired,
Hemphill charged.

#WIDE RANGE IN BIDS#

Hemphill said the Hughes

concern contracted to do the repairs at a cost of $500 for each
joint. The bid from A& Belanger and Sons of Cambridge, Mass&,
which listed the same officers as Hughes, was $600 per joint.

But, Hemphill added, bids from other contractors ranged from $2400
to $3100 per joint. Berger's decision to sue for the full
amount of the performance bond was questioned by Wagner in the morning
press conference. Wagner said the city paid only $37,500 to the Hughes
company. "We won't know the full amount until we get a full
report", Wagner said. "We can claim on the maximum amount
of the bond", Berger said. Wagner replied, "Can't you
just see the headline: 'City Hooked for $172,000'"? #'KNOW
ENOUGH TO SUE'#

Berger insisted that "we know enough to

sue for the full amount". Douglas M& Pratt, president of
the ~PTC, who attended the meeting, said the transit company is
reviewing the work on the El. "We want to find out who knew
about it", Pratt said. "Certain people must have known about it".

"The ~PTC is investigating the whole matter", Pratt

said.

Samuel D& Goodis, representing the Philadelphia Hotel Association,

objected on Tuesday to a proposed boost by the city in licensing
fees, saying that occupancy rates in major hotels here ranged
from 48 to 74 percent last year. Goodis voiced his objection before
City Council's Finance Committee. For hotels with
1000 rooms, the increased license fee would mean an expense of $5000
a year, Goodis said.

#TESTIFIES AT HEARING#

His testimony came

during a hearing on a bill raising fees for a wide variety of licenses,
permits and city services. The new fees are expected to raise an additional
$740,000 in the remainder of 1961 and $2,330,000 more a year
after that. The ordinance would increase the fee for rooming
houses, hotels and multi-family dwellings to $5 a room. The cost of a
license now is $2, with an annual renewal fee of $1. Goodis said
that single rooms account for 95 percent of the accomodations in some
hotels.

#REVENUE ESTIMATED#

The city expects the higher rooming

house, hotel and apartment house fees to bring in an additional $457,000
a year. The increase also was opposed by Leonard Kaplan,
spokesman for the Home Builders Association of Philadelphia, on
behalf of association members who operate apartment houses. A
proposal to raise dog license fees drew an objection from Councilwoman
Virginia Knauer, who formerly raised pedigreed dogs. The ordinance
would increase fees from $1 for males and $2 for females to a flat
$5 a dog.

#COMMISSIONER REPLIES#

Mrs& Knauer said she did not

think dog owners should be penalized for the city's services to animal
care. In reply, Deputy Police Commissioner Howard R&
Leary said that the city spends more than $115,000 annually to license
and regulate dogs but collects only $43,000 in fees. He reported
that the city's contributions for animal care included $67,000
to the Women's S&P&C&A&; $15,000 to pay six policemen
assigned as dog catchers and $15,000 to investigate dog bites.

#BACKS
HIGHER FEES#

City Finance Director Richard J& McConnell

indorsed the higher fees, which, he said, had been under study for more
than a year. The city is not adequately compensated for the services
covered by the fees, he said. The new fee schedule also was
supported by Commissioner of Licenses and Inspections Barnet Lieberman
and Health Commissioner Eugene A& Gillis.

Petitions asking for a jail term for Norristown attorney Julian

W& Barnard will be presented to the Montgomery County Court
Friday, it was disclosed Tuesday by Horace A& Davenport, counsel
for the widow of the man killed last Nov& 1 by Barnard's hit-run
car. The petitions will be presented in open court to President
Judge William F& Dannehower, Davenport said. Barnard,
who pleaded no defense to manslaughter and hit-run charges, was
fined $500 by Judge Warren K& Hess, and placed on two years' probation
providing he does not drive during that time. He was caught
driving the day after the sentence was pronounced and given a warning.

Victim of the accident was Robert Lee Stansbery, 39. His

widow started the circulation of petitions after Barnard was reprimanded
for violating the probation.

The City Planning Commission on Tuesday approved agreements

between two redevelopers and the Redevelopment Authority for the purchase
of land in the $300,000,000 Eastwick Redevelopment Area project.

The commission also approved a novel plan that would eliminate

traffic hazards for pedestrians in the project. One of
the agreements calls for the New Eastwick Corp& to purchase a 1311
acre tract for $12,192,865. The tract is bounded by Island ave&,
Dicks ave&, 61st st&, and Eastwick ave&.

#FOUR PARKS PLANNED#

It is designated as Stage 1 Residential on the Redevelopment

Authority's master plan and will feature row houses, garden apartments,
four small parks, schools, churches, a shopping center and several
small clusters of stores. The corporation was formed by the
Reynolds Metal Co& and the Samuel A& and Henry A& Berger
firm, a Philadelphia builder, for work in the project. The second
agreement permits the authority to sell a 520-acre tract west of
Stage 1 Residential to Philadelphia Builders Eastwick Corp&,
a firm composed of 10 Philadelphia area builders, which is interested
in developing part of the project.

#WOULD BAR VEHICLES#

The plan
for eliminating traffic hazards for pedestrians was developed by Dr&
Constantinos A& Doxiadis, former Minister of Reconstruction
in Greece and a consulting planner for the New Eastwick Corp&.

The plan calls for dividing the project into 16 sectors which would
be barred to vehicular traffic. It provides for a series of landscaped
walkways and a central esplanade that would eventually run through
the center of the entire two-and-a-half-mile length of the project.

The esplanade eliminates Grovers ave&, which on original

plans ran through the center of the development. The esplanade would
feature pedestrian bridges over roads in the project.

_KANSAS CITY, MO&, FEB& 9 (~UPI)_- The president of the

Kansas City local of the International Association of Fire Fighters
was severly injured today when a bomb tore his car apart as he left
home for work. Battalion Chief Stanton M& Gladden, 42,
the central figure in a representation dispute between the fire fighters
association and the teamsters union, suffered multiple fractures
of both ankles. He was in Baptist Memorial hospital.

#IGNITION SETS
OFF BLAST#

The battalion chief said he had just gotten into his

1958 model automobile to move it from the driveway of his home so that
he could take his other car to work. "I'd just turned on
the ignition when there was a big flash and I was lying on the driveway",
he said. Gladden's wife and two of his sons, John,
17, and Jim, 13, were inside the house. The younger boy said the blast
knocked him out of bed and against the wall.

#HOOD FLIES OVER HOUSE#

The explosion sent the hood of the car flying over the roof of
the house. The left front wheel landed 100 feet away. Police
laboratory technicians said the explosive device, containing either ~TNT
or nitroglycerine, was apparently placed under the left front
wheel. It was first believed the bomb was rigged to the car's starter.

Gladden had been the target of threatening telephone calls

in recent months and reportedly received one last night. The
fire department here has been torn for months by dissension involving
top personnel and the fight
between the fire fighters association and the
teamsters union.

#LED FIGHT ON TEAMSTERS#

Gladden has been an

outspoken critic of the present city administration and led his union's
battle against the teamsters, which began organizing city firemen
in 1959. The fire fighters association here offered a $5,000 reward
for information leading to the arrest of the person or persons responsible
for the bombing. A $500 reward was offered by the association's
local in Kansas City, Kas&. The association said
it would post 24 hour guards at Gladden's home and at those of James
Mining and Eugene Shiflett. Mining is secretary-treasurer of the
local and Shiflett is a member of its executive committee. Both have
been active in the association.

_ANKARA, TURKEY, OCT& 24 (~AP)_- Turkish political leaders

bowed today to military pressure and agreed to form an emergency national
front government with Gen& Cemal Gursel as president.
An agreement between the leaders of four parties which contested indecisive
elections on Oct& 15 was reached after almost 18 hours of political
bargaining under the threat of an army coup d'etat. By-passing
the military junta which has ruled Turkey since the overthrow
of Premier Adnan Menderes 17 months ago, the army general staff,
led by Gen& Cedvet Sunay, had set a deadline for the parties to
join in a national coalition government. The army leaders threatened
to form a new military government if the parties failed to sign
an eight point protocol agreeing on Gen& Gursel as president. Gen&
Gursel has headed the military junta the last 17 months.
The military also had demanded pledges that there would be no changes
in the laws passed by the junta and no leaders of the Menderes regime
now in prison would be pardoned. Party leaders came out of
the final meeting apparently satisfied and stated that complete agreement
had been reached on a solution to the crisis created by the elections
which left no party with enough strength to form a government on its
own.

Vincent G& Ierulli has been appointed temporary assistant

district attorney, it was announced Monday by Charles E& Raymond,
District Attorney. Ierulli will replace Desmond D& Connall
who has been called to active military service but is expected back
on the job by March 31. Ierulli, 29, has been practicing
in Portland since November, 1959. He is a graduate of Portland University
and the Northwestern College of Law. He is married and the
father of three children.

Helping foreign countries to build a sound political structure

is more important than aiding them economically, E& M& Martin,
assistant secretary of state for economic affairs told members of the
World Affairs Council Monday night. Martin, who has been
in office in Washington, D& C&, for 13 months spoke at the
council's annual meeting at the Multnomah Hotel. He told some 350
persons that the United States' challenge was to help countries build
their own societies their own ways, following their own paths.

"We must persuade them to enjoy a way of life which, if not identical,
is congenial with ours", he said but adding that if they do
not develop the kind of society they themselves want it will lack ritiuality
and loyalty.

#PATIENCE NEEDED#

Insuring that the countries

have a freedom of choice, he said, was the biggest detriment to the Soviet
Union. He cited East Germany where after 15 years of
Soviet rule it has become necessary to build a wall to keep the people
in, and added, "so long as people rebel, we must not give up".

Martin called for patience on the part of Americans. "The

countries are trying to build in a decade the kind of society we
took a century to build", he said. By leaving our doors open
the United States gives other peoples the opportunity to see us and
to compare, he said.

#INDIVIDUAL HELP BEST#

"We have no reason

to fear failure, but we must be extraordinarily patient", the assistant
secretary said. Economically, Martin said, the United
States could best help foreign countries by helping them help themselves.
Private business is more effective than government aid, he explained,
because individuals are able to work with the people themselves.

The United States must plan to absorb the exported goods of

the country, at what he termed a "social cost". Martin said
the government has been working to establish firmer prices on primary
products which may involve the total income of one country.

The Portland school board was asked Monday to take a positive

stand towards developing and coordinating with Portland's civil defense
more plans for the city's schools in event of attack.
But there seemed to be some difference of opinion as to how far the board
should go, and whose advice it should follow. The board members,
after hearing the coordination plea from Mrs& Ralph H&
Molvar, 1409 ~SW Maplecrest Dr&, said they thought they had already
been cooperating. Chairman C& Richard Mears pointed
out that perhaps this was not strictly a school board problem, in case
of atomic attack, but that the board would cooperate so far as possible
to get the children to where the parents wanted them to go.

Dr& Melvin W& Barnes,

superintendent, said he thought the schools
were waiting for some leadership, perhaps on the national level,
to make sure that whatever steps of planning they took would "be more
fruitful", and that he had found that other school districts were
not as far along in their planning as this district. "Los Angeles
has said they would send the children to their homes in case of
disaster", he said. "Nobody really expects to evacuate. I think
everybody is agreed that we need to hear some voice on the national
level that would make some sense and in which we would have some confidence
in following. Mrs& Molvar, who kept reiterating her request
that they "please take a stand", said, "We must have faith
in somebody- on the local level, and it wouldn't be possible for
everyone to rush to a school to get their children". Dr&
Barnes said that there seemed to be feeling that evacuation plans, even
for a high school where there were lots of cars "might not be realistic
and would not work". Mrs& Molvar asked again that
the board join in taking a stand in keeping with Jack Lowe's program.
The board said it thought it had gone as far as instructed so far
and asked for more information to be brought at the next meeting.

It was generally agreed that the subject was important and the board
should be informed on what was done, is going to be done and what
it thought should be done.

_SALEM (~AP)_- The statewide meeting of war mothers Tuesday

in Salem will hear a greeting from Gov& Mark Hatfield. Hatfield
also is scheduled to hold a public United Nations Day reception
in the state capitol on Tuesday. His schedule calls for
a noon speech Monday in Eugene at the Emerald Empire Kiwanis Club.

He will speak to Willamette University Young Republicans

Thursday night in Salem. On Friday he will go to Portland
for the swearing in of Dean Bryson as Multnomah County Circuit
Judge. He will attend a meeting of the Republican State Central
Committee Saturday in Portland and see the Washington-Oregon
football game.

Beaverton School District No& 48 board members examined blueprints

and specifications for two proposed junior high schools at a
Monday night workshop session. A bond issue which would have
provided some $3.5 million for construction of the two 900-student schools
was defeated by district voters in January. Last week the
board, by a 4
to 3 vote, decided to ask voters whether they prefer the
6-3-3 (junior high school) system or the 8-4 system. Board members
indicated Monday night this would be done by an advisory poll to be
taken on Nov& 15, the same date as a $581,000 bond election for the
construction of three new elementary schools.

Secretary of Labor Arthur Goldberg will speak Sunday night

at the Masonic Temple at a $25-a-plate dinner honoring Sen& Wayne
L& Morse, ~D-Ore&. The dinner is sponsored by organized
labor and is scheduled for 7 p&m&. Secretary Goldberg
and Sen& Morse will hold a joint press conference at the Roosevelt
Hotel at 4:30 p&m& Sunday, Blaine Whipple, executive secretary
of the Democratic Party of Oregon, reported Tuesday.

Other speakers for the fund-raising dinner include Reps& Edith

Green and Al Ullman, Labor Commissioner Norman Nilsen and Mayor
Terry Schrunk, all Democrats.

_OAK GROVE (SPECIAL)_- Three positions on the Oak Lodge

Water
district board of directors have attracted 11 candidates. The election
will be Dec& 4 from 8 a&m& to 8 p&m&. Polls will be in
the water office. Incumbent Richard Salter seeks re-election
and is opposed by Donald Huffman for the five-year term. Incumbent
William Brod is opposed in his re-election bid by Barbara Njust,
Miles C& Bubenik and Frank Lee. Five candidates seek the
place vacated by Secretary Hugh G& Stout. Seeking this two-year
term are James Culbertson, Dwight M& Steeves, James C& Piersee,
W&M& Sexton and Theodore W& Heitschmidt.

A stronger stand on their beliefs and a firmer grasp on their

future were taken Friday by delegates to the 29th general council of
the Assemblies of God, in session at the Memorial Coliseum.
The council revised, in an effort to strengthen, the denomination's
16 basic beliefs adopted in 1966. The changes, unanimously adopted,
were felt necessary in the face of modern trends away from the
Bible. The council agreed it should more firmly state its belief in
and dependence on the Bible. At the adoption, the Rev& T&
F& Zimmerman, general superintendent, commented, "The Assemblies
of God has been a bulwark for fundamentalism in these modern days
and has, without compromise, stood for the great truths of the Bible
for which men in the past have been willing to give their lives".

#NEW POINT ADDED#

Many changes involved minor editing and clarification;

however, the first belief stood for entire revision with a
new third point added to the list. The first of 16 beliefs of
the denomination, now reads: "The scriptures, both Old and
New Testament, are verbally inspired of God and are the revelation
of God to man, the infallible, authoritative rule of faith and conduct".

The third belief, in six points, emphasizes the Diety

of the Lord Jesus Christ, and: - emphasizes the Virgin
birth - the sinless life of Christ - His miracles
- His substitutionary work on the cross - His bodily
resurrection from the dead - and His exaltation to the right
hand of God.

#SUPER AGAIN ELECTED#

Friday afternoon the Rev&

T& F& Zimmerman was reelected for his second consecutive two-year
term as general superintendent of Assemblies of God. His offices
are in Springfield, Mo&. Election came on the nominating ballot.

Friday night the delegates heard the need for their forthcoming
program, "Breakthrough" scheduled to fill the churches for the
next two years. In his opening address Wednesday the Rev& Mr&
Zimmerman, urged the delegates to consider a 10-year expansion program,
with "Breakthrough" the theme for the first two years.
The Rev& R& L& Brandt, national secretary of the home missions
department, stressed the need for the first two years' work.

"Surveys show that one out of three Americans has vital contact
with the church. This means that more than 100 million have no vital
touch with the church or religious life", he told delegates Friday.

#CHURCH LOSES PACE#

Talking of the rapid population growth (upwards

of 12,000 babies born daily) with an immigrant entering the United
States every 1-1/2 minutes, he said "our organization has not
been keeping pace with this challenge". "In 35 years we have
opened 7,000 churches", the Rev& Mr& Brandt said, adding that
the denomination had a national goal of one church for every 10,000
persons. "In this light we need 1,000 churches in Illinois,
where we have 200; 800 in Southern New England, we have 60;
we need 100 in Rhode Island, we have none", he said. To step
up the denomination's program, the Rev& Mr& Brandt suggested
the vision of 8,000 new Assemblies of God churches in the next 10
years. To accomplish this would necessitate some changes in methods,
he said. #'CHURCH MEETS CHANGE'#

"The church's
ability to change her methods is going to determine her ability to meet
the challenge of this hour". A capsule view of proposed plans
includes: - Encouraging by every means, all existing Assemblies
of God churches to start new churches. - Engaging
mature, experienced men to pioneer or open new churches in strategic population
centers. - Surrounding pioneer pastors with vocational
volunteers (laymen, who will be urged to move into the area of new
churches in the interest of lending their support to the new project).
- Arranging for ministerial graduates to spend from 6-12 months
as apprentices in well-established churches.

U&S& Dist& Judge Charles L& Powell denied all motions

made by defense attorneys Monday in Portland's insurance fraud
trial. Denials were of motions of dismissal, continuance, mistrial,
separate trial, acquittal, striking of testimony and directed
verdict. In denying motions for dismissal, Judge Powell stated
that mass trials have been upheld as proper in other courts and that
"a person may join a conspiracy without knowing who all of the conspirators
are". Attorney Dwight L& Schwab, in behalf of
defendant Philip Weinstein, argued there is no evidence linking Weinstein
to the conspiracy, but Judge Powell declared this is a matter
for the jury to decide.

#PROOF LACK CHARGED#

Schwab also declared

there is no proof of Weinstein's entering a conspiracy to use the
U&S& mails to defraud, to which federal prosecutor A& Lawrence
Burbank replied: "It is not necessary that a defendant
actually have conpired to use the U&S& mails to defraud as long
as there is evidence of a conspiracy, and the mails were then used
to carry it out". In the afternoon, defense attorneys began
the presentation of their cases with opening statements, some of which
had been deferred until after the government had called witnesses and
presented its case.

_MIAMI, FLA&, MARCH 17_- The Orioles tonight retained the distinction
of being the only winless team among the eighteen Major-League
clubs as they dropped their sixth straight spring exhibition decision,
this one to the Kansas City Athletics by a score of 5 to 3.

Indications as late as the top of the sixth were that the Birds
were to end their victory draought as they coasted along with a 3-to-o
advantage.

#SIEBERN HITS HOMER#

Over the first five frames, Jack

Fisher, the big righthandler who figures to be in the middle of
Oriole plans for a drive on the 1961 American League pennant, held
the ~A's scoreless while yielding three scattered hits. Then
Dick Hyde, submarine-ball hurler, entered the contest and only
five batters needed to face him before there existed a 3-to-3 deadlock.

A two-run homer by Norm Siebern and a solo blast by Bill

Tuttle tied the game, and single runs in the eighth and ninth gave the
Athletics their fifth victory in eight starts.

#HOUSE THROWS WILD#

With one down in the eighth, Marv Throneberry drew a walk and stole
second as Hyde fanned Tuttle. Catcher Frank House's throw
in an effort to nab Throneberry was wide and in the dirt. Then
Heywood Sullivan, Kansas City catcher, singled up the middle and
Throneberry was across with what proved to be the winning run.

Rookie southpaw George Stepanovich relieved Hyde at the start of

the ninth and gave up the ~A's fifth tally on a walk to second baseman
Dick Howser, a wild pitch, and Frank Cipriani's single under
Shortstop Jerry Adair's glove into center. The Orioles
once again performed at the plate in powderpuff fashion, gathering
only seven blows off the offerings of three Kansas City pitchers. Three
were doubles, Brooks Robinson getting a pair and Marv Breeding
one.

#HARTMAN IMPRESSIVE#

Bill Kunkel, Bob Hartman and Ed

Keegan did the mound chores for the club down from West Palm Beach
to play the game before 767 paying customers in Miami Stadium.

The Birds got five hits and all three of their runs off Kunkel before
Hartman took over in the top of the fourth. Hartman, purchased
by the ~A's from the Milwaukee Braves last fall, allowed no hits
in his scoreless three-inning appearance, and merited the triumph.

Keegan, a 6-foot-3-inch 158-pounder, gave up the Orioles' last

two safeties over the final three frames, escaping a load of trouble
in the ninth when the Birds threatened but
failed to tally.

#ROBINSON
DOUBLES AGAIN#

In the ninth, Robinson led off with his second

double of the night, a blast off the fence 375 feet deep into left.

Whitey Herzog, performing in right as the Orioles fielded possibly

their strongest team of the spring, worked Keegan for a base on
balls. Then three consecutive pinch-hitters failed to produce.

Pete Ward was sent in for House and, after failing in a bunt
attempt, popped to Howser on the grass back of short. John
Powell, batting for Adair, fanned after fouling off two 2-and-2 pitches,
and Buddy Barker, up for Stepanovich, bounced out sharply to
Jerry Lumpe at second to end the 2-hour-and-27-minute contest.

The Orioles got a run in the first inning when Breeding, along with
Robinson, the two Birds who got a pair of hits, doubled to right
center, moved to third on Russ Snyder's single to right and crossed
on Kunkel's wild pitch into the dirt in front of the plate.

The Flock added a pair of tallies in the third on three straight hits
after two were out. Jackie Brandt singled deep into the hole
at short to start the rally.

#LUMPE ERRS#

Jim Gentile bounced

a hard shot off Kunkel's glove and beat it out for a single, and
when Lumpe grabbed the ball and threw it over first baseman Throneberry's
head Brandt took third and Gentile second on the error.

Then Robinson slammed a long double to left center to score both

runners. When Robinson tried to stretch his blow into a triple, he
was cut down in a close play at third, Tuttle to Andy Carey.
The detailed rundown on the Kansas City scoring in the sixth went
like this: Lumpe worked a walk as the first batter to face Hyde
and romped around as Siebern blasted Hyde's next toss 415 feet
over the scoreboard in right center.

#CAREY SINGLES#

Carey singled
on a slow-bouncing ball to short which Robinson cut across to field
and threw wide to first. It was ruled a difficult chance and a hit.

Then Throneberry rapped into a fast double play. Breeding

to Adair to Gentile, setting up Tuttle's 390-foot homer over the
wall in left center. If the Orioles are to break their losing
streak within the next two days, it will have to be at the expense
of the American League champion New York Yankees, who come in here
tomorrow for a night game and a single test Sunday afternoon.

_MIAMI, FLA&, MARCH 17_- The flavor of Baltimore's Florida

Grapefruit League news ripened considerably late today when the Orioles
were advised that Ron Hansen has fulfilled his obligations under
the Army's military training program and is ready for belated
spring training. Hansen, who slugged the 1960 Oriole high of
22 homers and drove in 86 runs on a .255 freshman average, completes the
Birds' spring squad at 49 players. The big, 22-year-old
shortstop, the 1960 American league "rookie-of-the year", flew here
late this afternoon from Baltimore, signed his contract for an estimated
$15,000 and was a spectator at tonight's 5-to-3 loss to Kansas
City- the winless Birds' sixth setback in a row.

#15 POUNDS
LIGHTER#

The 6-foot 3 inch Hansen checked in close to 200 pounds,

15 pounds lighter than his reporting weight last spring. He hopes
to melt off an additional eight pounds before the Flock breaks camp three
weeks hence. When he was inducted into the Army at Fort
Knox, Ky&, Hansen's weight had dropped to 180- "too light
for me to be at my best" he said. "I feel good physically",
Hansen added, "but I think I'll move better carrying a little
less weight than I'm carrying now".
#SEEKS "IMPROVED FIELDING"#

The rangy, Albany (Cal&) native, a surprise slugging

sensation for the Flock last year as well as a defensive whiz, set
"improved fielding" as his 1961 goal.

"I think I can do a better job with the glove, now that I
know the hitters around the league a little better", he said.

Hansen will engage in his first workout at Miami Stadium prior to

the opening tomorrow night of a two-game weekend series with the New
York Yankees. Skinny Brown and Hoyt Wilhelm, the Flock's
veteran knuckleball specialists, are slated to oppose the American
League champions in tomorrow's 8 P&M& contest.

#DUREN, SHELDON
ON HILL#

Ryne Duren and Roland Sheldon, a rookie righthander

who posted a 15-1 record last year for the Yanks' Auburn (N&Y&)
farm club of the Class-~D New York-Pennsylvania League,
are the probable rival pitchers. Twenty-one-year-old Milt Pappas
and Jerry Walker, 22, are scheduled to share the Oriole mound
chores against the Bombers' Art Ditmar in Sunday's 2 P&M&
encounter. Ralph Houk, successor to Casey Stengel at the
Yankee helm, plans to bring the entire New York squad here from
St& Petersburg, including Joe Dimaggio and large crowds are anticipated
for both weekend games. The famed Yankee Clipper, now retired,
has been assisting as a batting coach.

#SQUAD CUT NEAR#

Pitcher
Steve Barber joined the club one week ago after completing his hitch
under the Army's accelerated wintertime military course, also at
Fort Knox, Ky&. The 22-year-old southpaw enlisted earlier last
fall than did Hansen. Baltimore's bulky spring-training contingent
now gradually will be reduced as Manager Paul Richards and
his coaches seek to trim it down to a more streamlined and workable unit.
#@#

"Take a ride on this one", Brooks Robinson greeted

Hansen as the Bird third sacker grabbed a bat, headed for the plate
and bounced a third-inning two-run double off the left-centerfield
wall tonight. It was the first of two doubles by Robinson,
who was in a mood to celebrate. Just before game time, Robinson's
pretty wife, Connie informed him that an addition to the family
can be expected late next summer. Unfortunately, Brooks'
teammates were not in such festive mood as the Orioles expired before
the seven-hit pitching of three Kansas City rookie hurlers. #@#

Hansen arrived just before nightfall, two hours late, in company

with Lee MacPhail; J& A& W& Iglehart, chairman of the
Oriole board of directors, and Public Relations Director Jack Dunn.

Their flight was delayed, Dunn said, when a boarding ramp

inflicted some minor damage to the wing of the plane. #@#
Ex-Oriole
Clint Courtney, now catching for the ~A's is all for the
American League's 1961 expansion to the West Coast. "But
they shouldda brought in Tokyo, too", added Old Scrapiron.
"Then we'd really have someplace to go".

_BOWIE, MD&, MARCH 17_- Gaining her second straight victory,

Norman B&, Small, Jr&'s Garden Fresh, a 3-year-old filly,
downed promising colts in the $4,500 St& Patrick's Day Purse,
featured seventh race here today, and paid $7.20 straight. Toying
with her field in the early stages, Garden Fresh was asked for
top speed only in the stretch by Jockey Philip Grimm and won by a length
and a half in 1.24 3-5 for the 7 furlongs.

#8,280 ATTEND RACES#

Richard M& Forbes's Paget, which had what seemed to be a

substantial lead in the early stages, tired rapidly nearing the wire and
was able to save place money only a head in front of Glen T&
Hallowell's
Milties Miss. A bright sun and brisk wind had the
track in a fast condition for the first time this week and 8,280 St&
Patty Day celebrants bet $842,617 on the well-prepared program.

Prior to the featured race, the stewards announced that apprentice

James P& Verrone is suspended ten days for crowding horses and
crossing the field sharply in two races on Wednesday.

#CULMONE GETS
FIRST WIN#

Garden Fresh, the result of a mating of Better Self

and Rosy Fingered, seems to improve with each start and appeared to
win the St& Patrick's Day Purse with some speed in reserve.
She was moving up to the allowance department after winning a $10,000
claiming event.

_CLEVELAND, MARCH 17 (~AP)_- George Kerr, the swift-striding

Jamaican, set a meet record in the 600-yard run in the Knights of Columbus
track meet tonight, beating Purdue's Dave Mills in a hot
duel in 1.10.1. Kerr, who set the world record earlier this month
in New York with a clocking of 1.09.3, wiped out Mills's early
pace and beat the young Big 10 quarter-mile king by 5 yards. Both
were under the meet mark of 1.10.8 set in 1950 by Mal Whitfield.

Mills shot out in front and kept the lead through two thirds of
the race. Then Kerr, a graduate student from Illinois, moved past
him on a straightaway and held off Mills's challenge on the final turn.
Mills was timed in 1.10.4. The crowd at the twenty-first
annual K& of C& Games, final indoor meet of the season, got a
thrill a few minutes earlier when a slender, bespectacled woman broke
the one-week-old world record in the half-mile run. Mrs& Grace
Butcher, of nearby Chardon, a 27-year-old housewife who has two
children, finished in 2.21.6. She snapped five tenths of a second off
the mark set by Helen Shipley, of Wellsley College, in the National
A&A&U& meet in Columbus, Ohio.

_SAN FRANCISCO, MARCH 17 (~AP)_- Bobby Waters of Sylvania,

Ga&, relief quarterback for the San Francisco 49ers of the National
Football League, will undergo a knee operation tomorrow at Franklin
Hospital here. Waters injured his left knee in the last
game of the 1960 season. While working out in Sylvania a swelling
developed in the knee and he came here to consult the team physician._ST&
PETERSBURG, FLA&, MARCH 17 (~AP)_- Two errors by New
York Yankee shortstop Tony Kubek in the eleventh inning donated
four unearned runs and a 5-to-2 victory to the Chicago White Sox
today.

_AUSTIN, TEXAS_- A Texas halfback who doesn't even know the

team's plays, Eldon Moritz, ranks fourth in Southwest Conference
scoring after three games. Time stands still every time Moritz,
a 26-year-old Army Signal Corps veteran, goes into the field. Although
he never gets to play while the clock is running, he gets a big
kick- several every Saturday, in fact- out of football.
Moritz doesn't even have a nose guard or hip pads but he's one of
the most valuable members of the Longhorn team that will be heavily
favored Saturday over Oklahoma in the Cotton Bowl. That's
because he already has kicked 14 extra points in 15 tries. He ran
his string of successful conversions this season to 13 straight before
one went astray last Saturday night in the 41-8 slaughter of Washington
State. Moritz is listed on the Longhorn roster as a right
halfback, the position at which he lettered on the 1956 team. But
ask coach Darrell Royal what position he plays and you'll get the
quick response, "place-kicker". A 208-pound, 6-foot 1-inch
senior from Stamford, Moritz practices nothing but place-kicking. Last
year, when he worked out at halfback all season, he didn't get
into a single game. "This year, coach Royal told me if I'd
work on my place-kicking he thought he could use me", said Moritz.
"So I started practicing on it in spring training. Moritz
was bothered during the first two games this year by a pulled muscle
in the thigh of his right (kicking) leg and, as a result, several of
his successful conversions have gone barely far enough. Moritz
said Monday his leg feels fine and, as a result, he hopes to start
practicing field goals this week. He kicked several while playing at
Stamford High School, including one that beat Anson, 3-0, in a 1953
district game. "I kicked about 110 extra points in 135 tries
during three years in high school", he said, "and made 26 in a
row at one time. I never did miss one in a playoff game- I kicked
about 20 in the five playoff games my last two years". Moritz
came to Texas in 1954 but his freshman football efforts were hampered
by a knee injury. He missed the 1955 season because of an operation
on
the ailing knee, then played 77 minutes in 1956. His statistical record
that year, when Texas won only one game and lost nine, was far from
impressive: he carried the ball three times for a net gain of 10
yards, punted once for 39 yards and caught one pass for 13 yards.

He went into the Army in March, 1957, and returned two years later.
But he was scholastically ineligible in 1959 and merely present
last season. Place kicking is largely a matter of timing, Moritz
declared. "Once you get the feel of it, there's not much
to it. I've tried to teach some of the other boys to kick and some
of them can't seem to get the feel. Practice helps you to get your
timing down. "It's kind of like golf- if you don't
swing a club very often, your timing gets off". Moritz, however,
kicks only about 10 or 12 extra points during each practice session.

"If you kick too much, your leg gets kinda dead", he
explained. @ _FOOTNOTES:_ In their first three games, the Longhorns
have had the ball 41 times and scored 16 times, or 40 per cent
**h their total passing yardage in three games, 447 on 30 completions
in 56 attempts, is only 22 yards short of their total passing yardage
in 1959, when they made 469 on 37 completions in 86 tries **h. Tailback
James Saxton already has surpassed his rushing total for his brilliant
sophomore season, when he netted 271 yards on 55 carries; he
now has 273 yards in 22 tries during three games **h. Saxton has made
only one second-half appearance this season and that was in the Washington
State game, for four plays: he returned the kickoff 30 yards,
gained five yards through the line and then uncorked a 56-yard touchdown
run before retiring to the bench **h. Wingback Jack Collins injured
a knee in the Washington State game but insists he'll be ready
for Oklahoma **h. Last week, when Royal was informed that three
Longhorns were among the conference's top four in rushing, he said:
"That won't last long". It didn't; Monday, he had four
Longhorns in the top four **h.

A good feeling prevailed on the ~SMU coaching staff Monday,

but attention quickly turned from Saturday's victory to next week's
problem: Rice University. The Mustangs don't play this
week. "We're just real happy for the players", Coach Bill
Meek said of the 9-7 victory over the Air Force Academy. "I
think the big thing about the game was that our kids for the third straight
week stayed in there pitching and kept the pressure on. It was
the first time we've been ahead this season (when John Richey kicked
what proved to be the winning field goal)". Assistant coach
John Cudmore described victory as "a good feeling, I think, on
the part of the coaches and the players. We needed it and we got it".

Meek expressed particular gratification at the defensive

performances of end Happy Nelson and halfback Billy Gannon. Both
turned in top jobs for the second straight game. "Nelson played
magnificent football", Meek praised. "He knocked down the interference
and made key stops lots of times. And he caused the fumble
that set up our touchdown. He broke that boy (Air Force fullback Nick
Arshinkoff) in two and knocked him loose from the football".

Gannon contributed saving plays on the Falcons' aerial thrusts

in the late stages. One was on a fourth-down screen pass from
the Mustang 21 after an incomplete pass into Gannon's territory.

"As soon as it started to form, Gannon spotted it", Meek

said. "He timed it just right and broke through there before the
boy (halfback Terry Isaacson) had time to turn around. He really crucified
him **h he nailed it for a yard loss". The Air Force's,
and the game's, final play, was a long pass by quarterback
Bob McNaughton which Gannon intercepted on his own 44 and returned
22 yards. "He just lay back there and waited for it", Meek
said. "He almost brought it back all the way". Except
for sophomore center Mike Kelsey and fullback Mike Rice, Meek expects
the squad to be physically sound for Rice. "Kelsey is
very doubtful for the Rice game", Meek said. "He'll be out of
action all this week. He got hit from the blind side by the split end
coming back on the second play of the game. There is definitely some
ligament damage in his knee". Rice has not played since injuring
a knee in the opener with Maryland. "He's looking
a lot better, and he's able to run", Meek explained. "We'll
let him do a lot of running this week, but I don't know if he'll
be able to play". The game players saw the Air Force film
Monday, ran for 30 minutes, then went in, while the reserves scrimmaged
for 45 minutes. "We'll work hard Tuesday, Wednesday
and Thursday", Meek said, "and probably will have a good scrimmage
Friday. We'll work out about an hour on Saturday, then we'll
work Monday and Tuesday of next week, then taper off". ~SMU
will play the Owls at Rice Stadium in Houston in a night game
Saturday, Oct& 21.

#HUDDLE HEARSAY#- Held out of {Texas

Tech's} sweat-suits drill Monday at Lubbock was tackle {Richard
Stafford}, who is undergoing treatment for a leg injury suffered
in the Raiders' 38-7 loss to Texas ~A+~M **h Because
of its important game with Arkansas coming up Saturday, {Baylor}
worked out in the rain Monday- mud or no mud **h End {Gene
Raesz}, who broke a hand in the Owl's game with ~LSU, was back
working out with {Rice}
Monday, and {John Nichols}, sophomore
guard, moved back into action after a week's idleness with an ankle
injury **h The {Texas Aggies} got a day off Monday- a special
gift from Coach Jim Myers for its conference victory last Saturday
night, but Myers announced that halfback {George Hargett},
shaken up in the Tech game, would not play against Trinity Saturday
**h Halfback {Bud Priddy}, slowed for almost a month by a
slowly-mending sprained ankle, joined ~{TCU's} workout Monday.

The Dallas Texans were back home Monday with their third victory
in four American Football League starts- a 19-12 triumph over
the Denver Broncos- but their visit will be a short one.
The Texans have two more road games- at Buffalo and Houston-
before they play for the home folks again, and it looks as if coach Hank
Stram's men will meet the Bills just as they are developing into
the kind of team they were expected to be in pre-season reckonings.

Buffalo coach Buster Ramsey, who has become one of the game's
greatest collectors of quarterbacks, apparently now has found a productive
pair in two ex-National Football Leaguers, M& C& Reynolds
and Warren Rabb. Rabb, the former Louisiana State
field general, came off the bench for his debut with the Bills Sunday
and directed his new team to a 22-12 upset victory over the Houston
Oilers, defending league champions. "Just our luck"! exclaimed
Stram. "Buster would solve that quarterback problem just
as we head that way". Ramsey has a thing or two to mutter about
himself, for the Dallas defensive unit turned in another splendid
effort against Denver, and the Texans were able to whip the dangerous
Broncs without the fullbacking of a top star, Jack Spikes, though
he did the team's place-kicking while nursing a knee injury.

"Our interior line and out linebackers played exceptionally well",

said Stram Monday after he and his staff reviewed movies of the
game. "In fact our whole defensive unit did a good job".
The Texans won the game through ball control, with Quarterback Cotton
Davidson throwing only 17 passes. "We always like to keep
the ball as much as we can against Denver because they have such an
explosive attack", explained Stram. "They can be going along,
doing little damage, then bang, bang- they can hit a couple of passes
on you for touchdowns and put you in trouble". The Broncs
did hit two quick strikes in the final period against the Texans, but
Dallas had enough of a lead to hold them off. The principal
tactic in controlling the ball was giving it to Abner Haynes, the flashy
halfback. He was called upon 26 times- more than all of the other
ball-carriers combined- and delivered 145 yards. The Texans
made themselves a comforting break on the opening kickoff when Denver's
Al Carmichael was jarred loose from the ball when Dave Grayson,
the speedy halfback, hit him and Guard Al Reynolds claimed
it for Dallas. A quick touchdown resulted. "That permitted
us to start controlling the ball right away", said Stram, quipping,
"I think I'll put that play in the book".

The early Southwest Conference football leaders- Texas, Arkansas

and Texas ~A+~M- made a big dent in the statistics last
week. Texas' 545-yard spree against Washington State gave
the Longhorns a 3-game total offense of 1,512 yards (1,065 rushing
and 447 passing) a new ~SWC high. Arkansas combined 280
yards rushing with 64 yards passing (on 5 completions in 7 tosses) and
a tough defense to whip ~TCU, and ~A+~M, with a 38-point
bulge against Texas Tech ran up its biggest total loop play since 1950.
Completing 12 of 15 passes for 174 yards, the Aggies had a total
offense of 361 yards. Texas leads in per-game rushing averages,
355 yards, and passing 149 (to Baylor's 126), but idle Baylor has
the best defensive record (187.5 yards per game to Texas' 189).
~A+~M has the best defense against passes, 34.7 yards per game.

Not satisfied with various unofficial checks on the liveliness

of baseballs currently in use, the major leagues have ordered their own
tests, which are in progress at Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

{Rookie Ron Nischwitz continued his pinpoint pitching Monday

night as the Bears made it two straight over Indianapolis, 5-3}.

The husky 6-3, 205-pound lefthander, was in command all the

way before an on-the-scene audience of only 949 and countless of television
viewers in the Denver area. It was Nischwitz' third
straight victory of the new season and ran the Grizzlies' winning
streak to four straight. They now lead Louisville by a full game on
top of the American Association pack. {Nischwitz fanned six
and walked only Charley Hinton in the third inning. He has given
only the one pass in his 27 innings, an unusual characteristic for a
southpaw}. The Bears took the lead in the first inning, as
they did in Sunday's opener, and never lagged. Dick McAuliffe
cracked the first of his two doubles against Lefty Don Rudolph
to open the Bear's attack. After Al Paschal gruonded out, Jay
Cooke walked and Jim McDaniel singled home McAuliffe. Alusik then
moved Cooke across with a line drive to left. Jay Porter drew a
base on balls to fill the bases but Don Wert's smash was knocked
down by Rudolph for the putout. The Bears added two more in
the fifth when McAuliffe dropped a double into the leftfield corner,
Paschal doubled down the rightfield line and Cooke singled off Phil
Shartzer's glove. {Nischwitz was working on a 3-hitter
when the Indians bunched three of their eight hits for two runs in the
sixth. Chuck Hinton tripled to the rightfield corner, Cliff Cook
and Dan Pavletich singled and Gaines' infielder roller accounted
for
the tallies}. The Bears added their last run in the sixth
on Alusik's double and outfield flies by Porter and Wert.

Gaines hammered the ball over the left fence for the third Indianapolis
run in the ninth. Despite the 45-degree weather the game
was clicked off in 1:48, thanks to only three bases on balls and some
good infield play. Chico Ruiz made a spectacular play on Alusik's
grounder in the hole in the fourth and Wert came up with some
good stops and showed a strong arm at third base.

#BINGLES AND BOBBLES:#

{Cliff Cook} accounted for three of the Tribe's
eight hits **h It was the season's first night game and an obvious
refocusing of the lights are in order **h The infield was well flooded
but the expanded outfield was much too dark **h {Mary Dobbs Tuttle}
was back at the organ **h Among the spectators was the noted exotic
dancer, {Patti Waggin} who is Mrs& Don Rudolph when off
the stage. **h {Lefty Wyman Carey}, another Denver rookie,
will be on the mound against veteran {John Tsitouris} at 8 o'clock
Tuesday night **h {Ed Donnelly} is still bothered by a side
injury and will miss his starting turn.

_DALLAS, TEX&, MAY 1- (~AP)_- Kenny Lane of Muskegon,

Mich&, world's seventh ranked lightweight, had little trouble in
taking a unanimous decision over Rip Randall of Tyler, Tex&, here
Monday night.

_ST& PAUL-MINNEAPOLIS, MAY 1- (~AP)_- {Billy Gardner's

line double, which just eluded the diving Minnie Minoso in left
field, drove in Jim Lemon with the winning run with two out in the
last of the ninth to give the Minnesota Twins a 6-5 victory over the
Chicago White Sox Monday}. Lemon was on with his fourth
single of the game, a liner to center. He came all the way around on
Gardner's hit before 5777 fans. It was Gardner's second run batted
in of the game and his only ones of the year. Turk Lown
was tagged with the loss, his second against no victories, while Ray
Moore won his second game against a single loss. The Twins tied
the score in the sixth inning when Reno Bertoia beat out a high
chopper to third base and scored on Lenny Green's double to left.

The White Sox had taken a 5-4 lead in the top of the sixth on
a pair of pop fly hits- a triple by Roy Sievers and single by Camilo
Carreon- a walk and a sacrifice fly. Jim Landis' 380-foot
home run over left in the first inning gave the Sox a 1-0 lead,
but Harmon Killebrew came back in the bottom of the first with his
second homer in two days with the walking Bob Allison aboard.

Al Smith's 340-blast over left in the fourth- his fourth homer

of the campaign- tied the score and Carreon's first major league
home run in the fifth put the Sox back in front. A double by
Green, Allison's run-scoring 2-baser, an infield single by Lemon
and Gardner's solid single to center put the Twins back in front
in the last of the fifth.

_OGDEN, UTAH, MAY 1- (~AP)_- Boston Red Sox Outfielder

Jackie Jensen said Monday night he was through playing baseball.

"I've had it", he told a newsman. "I know when my reflexes

are gone and I'm not going to be any 25th man on the ball club".

This was the first word from Jensen on his sudden walkout.

Jensen got only six hits in 46 at-bats for a .130 batting average
in the first 12 games. He took a midnight train out of Cleveland
Saturday, without an official word to anybody, and has stayed
away from newsmen on his train trip across the nation to Reno, Nev&,
where his wife, former Olympic Diving Champion Zoe Ann Olsen,
awaited. She said, when she learned Jackie was heading home:
"I'm just speculating, but I have to think Jack feels he's
hurting Boston's chances". The Union Pacific Railroad
streamliner, City of San Francisco, stopped in Ogden, Utah, for
a few minutes. Sports Writer Ensign Ritchie of the Ogden Standard
Examiner went to his compartment to talk with him. The conductor
said to Ritchie: "I don't think you want to talk to him.
You'll probably get a ball bat on the head. He's mad at the
world". But Jackie had gone into the station. Ritchie walked
up to him at the magazine stand. "I told him who I was and
he was quite cold. But he warmed up after a while. I told him what
Liston had said and he said Liston was a double-crosser and said anything
he (Liston) got was through a keyhole. He said he had never
talked to Liston". Liston is Bill Liston, baseball writer
for the Boston Traveler, who quoted Jensen as saying:
"I
can't hit anymore. I can't run. I can't throw. Suddenly my
reflexes are gone.

{JUST WHEN IT SEEMS baseball might be losing its grip on

the masses up pops heroics to start millions of tongues to wagging}.

And so it was over the weekend what with 40-year-old Warren

Spahn pitching his no-hit masterpiece against the Giants and the Giants'
Willie Mays retaliating with a record-tying 4-homer spree
Sunday. Both, of course, were remarkable feats and further embossed
the fact that baseball rightfully is the national pastime.

Of the two cherished achievements the elderly Spahn's hitless pitching

probably reached the most hearts. It was a real stimulant
to a lot of guys I know who have moved past the 2-score-year milestone.
And one of the Milwaukee rookies sighed and remarked, "Wish
I was 40, and a top-grade big leaguer. #@#

{THE MODEST
AND
HAPPY} Spahn waved off his new laurels as one of those good days.
But there surely can be no doubt about the slender southpaw belonging
with the all-time great lefthanders in the game's history.

Yes, with Bob Grove, Carl Hubbell, Herb Pennock, Art Nehf,
Vernon Gomez, et al. {Spahn not only is a superior pitcher
but a gentlemanly fine fellow, a ball player's ball player, as they
say in the trade}. I remember his beardown performance in
a meaningless exhibition game at Bears Stadium Oct& 14, 1951, before
a new record crowd for the period of 18,792. #@#

{"SPAHNIE
DOESN'T KNOW} how to merely go through the motions", remarked
Enos Slaughter, another all-out guy, who played rightfield that
day and popped one over the clubhouse. The spectacular Mays,
who reaches a decade in the big leagues come May 25, joined six other
sluggers who walloped four home runs in a span of nine innings.

{Incidentally, only two did it before a home audience. Bobby Lowe

of Boston was the first to hit four at home and Gil Hodges turned
the trick in Brooklyn's Ebbetts Field}. Ed Delahanty
and Chuck Klein of the Phillies, the Braves' Joe Adcock, Lou
Gehrig of the Yankees, Pat Seerey of the White Sox and Rocky
Colavito, then with Cleveland, made their history on the road. #@#

WILLIE'S BIG DAY REVIVED} the running argument about

the
relative merits of Mays and Mickey Mantle. This is an issue
which boils down to a matter of opinion, depending on whether you're
an American or National fan and anti or pro-Yankee. The record
books, however, would favor the Giants' ace. In four of his
nine previous seasons Mays hit as many as 25 home runs and stole as
many as 25 bases. Once the figure was 30-30. Willie's lifetime batting
average of .318 is 11 points beyond Mickey's. {The
Giants who had been anemic with the bat in their windy Candlestick
Park suddenly found the formula in Milwaukee's park. It will forever
be a baseball mystery how a team will suddenly start hitting after
a distressing slump}. #@#

{THE DENVER-AREA ~TV}

audience was privileged to see Mays' four home runs, thanks to a
new arrangement made by Bob Howsam that the games are not to be blacked
out when his Bears are playing at home. This rule providing
for a blackout of televised baseball 30 minutes before the start of
a major or minor league game in any area comes from the game's top
rulers. {The last couple of years the Bears management got
the business from the "Living Room Athletic Club" when games
were cut off. Actually they were helpless to do anything about the nationwide
policy}. This year, I am told, the ~CBS network
will continue to abide by the rule but ~NBC will play to a conclusion
here. There are two more Sunday afternoons when the situation
will arise. It is an irritable rule that does baseball more
harm than good, especially at the minor league level. You would be surprised
how many fans purposely stayed away from Bears Stadium last
year because of the television policy. This dissatisfaction led
to Howsam's request that the video not be terminated before the end
of the game.

_CINCINNATI, OHIO (~AP)_- The powerful New York Yankees

won their 19th world series in a 5-game romp over outclassed Cincinnati,
crushing the Reds in a humiliating 13-5 barrage Monday in the loosely
played finale. With Mickey Mantle and Yogi Berra both
out of action due to injuries, the American League champs still mounted
a 15-hit attack against a parade of eight Cincinnati pitchers,
the most ever used by one team in a series game. Johnny Blanchard,
Mantle's replacement, slammed a 2-run homer as the Yankees routed
loser Joey Jay in a 5-run first inning. Hector Lopez, subbing
for Berra, smashed a 3-run homer off Bill Henry during another 5-run
explosion in the fourth. The Yanks also took advantage of
three Cincinnati errors. The crowd of 32,589 had only two chances
to applaud. In the third Frank Robinson hammered a long
home run deep into the corner of the bleachers in right center, about
400 feet away, with two men on. Momentarily the Reds were back in
the ball game, trailing only 6-3, but the drive fizzled when John Edwards
fouled out with men on second and third and two out. In
the fifth, Wally Post slashed a 2-run homer off Bud Daley, but by
that time the score was 11-5 and it really didn't matter. The
Yankee triumph made Ralph Houk only the third man to lead a team
to both a pennant and a World Series victory in his first year as a
manager. Only Bucky Harris, the "boy-manager" of Washington in
1924, and Eddie Dyer of the St& Louis Cardinals in 1946 had accomplished
the feat.

_PHILADELPHIA, JAN& 23_- Nick Skorich, the line coach for the
football champion Philadelphia Eagles, was elevated today to head
coach. Skorich received a three-year contract at a salary believed
to be between $20,000 and $25,000 a year. He succeeds Buck Shaw,
who retired at the end of last season. The appointment was
announced at a news conference at which Skorich said he would retain
two members of Shaw's staff- Jerry Williams and Charlie Gauer.

Williams is a defensive coach. Gauer works with the ends.

#CHOICE WAS EXPECTED#

The selection had been expected. Skorich

was considered the logical choice after the club gave Norm Van Brocklin
permission to seek the head coaching job with the Minnesota Vikings,
the newest National Football League entry. Van Brocklin,
the quarterback who led the Eagles to the title, was signed by the
Vikings last Wednesday. Philadelphia permitted him to seek a better
connection after he had refused to reconsider his decision to end
his career as a player. With Skorich at the helm, the Eagles
are expected to put more emphasis on running, rather than passing. In
the past the club depended largely on Van Brocklin's aerials.

Skorich, however, is a strong advocate of a balanced attack- split

between running and passing.

#COACH PLAYED 3 YEARS#

Skorich,
who is 39 years old, played football at Cincinnati University and
then had a three-year professional career as a lineman under Jock Sutherland
with the Pittsburgh Steelers. An injury forced Skorich
to quit after the 1948 season. He began his coaching career at Pittsburgh
Central Catholic High School in 1949. He remained there
for four years before moving to Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute
in Troy, N& Y&. He was there one season before rejoining the Steelers
as an assistant coach. Four years later he resigned to
take a similar job with the Green Bay Packers. The Eagles signed
him for Shaw's staff in 1959. Skorich began his new job auspiciously
today. At a ceremony in the reception room of Mayor Richardson
Dilworth, the Eagles were honored for winning the championship.

Shaw and Skorich headed a group of players, coaches and team

officials who received an engrossed copy of an official city citation
and a pair of silver cufflinks shaped like a football.

With the announcement of a "special achievement award" to

William A& (Bill) Shea, the awards list was completed yesterday
for Sunday night's thirty-eighth annual dinner and show of the New
York Chapter, Baseball Writers' Association of America, at the
Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. Shea, the chairman of Mayor Wagner's
Baseball Committee, will be joined on the dais by Warren Spahn,
the southpaw pitching ace of the Milwaukee Braves; Frank Graham,
the Journal-American sports columnist; Bill Mazeroski, the
World Series hero of the Pittsburgh Pirates, and Casey Stengel,
the former manager of the Yankees. Stengel will receive the
Ben Epstein Good Guy Award. Mazeroski, whose homer beat the Yankees
in the final series game, will receive the Babe Ruth Award as
the outstanding player in the 1960 world series. Graham will
be recognized for his meritorious service to baseball and will get the
William J& Slocum Memorial Award. To Spahn will go the Sid
Mercer Memorial Award as the chapter's player of the year.

#SHOW
FOLLOWS CEREMONIES#

A crowd of 1,400 is expected for the ceremonies,

which will be followed by the show in which the writers will lampoon
baseball personalities in skit, dance and song. The 53-year-old
Shea, a prominent corporation lawyer with a sports background,
is generally recognized as the man most responsible for the imminent return
of a National League club to New York. Named by Mayor Wagner
three years ago
to head a committee that included James A& Farley,
Bernard Gimbel and Clint Blume, Shea worked relentlessly.

His goal was to obtain a National League team for this city. The
departure of the Giants and the Dodgers to California left New York
with only the Yankees. Despite countless barriers and disappointments,
Shea moved forward. When he was unable to bring about
immediate expansion, he sought to convince another National League
club to move here. When that failed, he enlisted Branch Rickey's
aid in the formation of a third major league, the Continental,
with New York as the key franchise. The Continental League never
got off the ground, but after two years it forced the existing majors
to expand.

#FLUSHING STADIUM IN WORKS#

The New York franchise

is headed by Mrs& Charles Shipman Payson. A big-league municipal
stadium at Flushing Meadow Park is in the works, and once the lease
is signed the local club will be formally recognized by Commissioner
Ford C& Frick. Shea's efforts figure prominently in the new
stadium. Shea and his wife, Nori, make their home at Sands
Point, L& I&. Bill Jr&, 20; Kathy, 15, and Patricia,
9, round out the Shea family. Shea was born in Manhattan. He
attended New York University before switching to Georgetown University
in Washington. He played basketball there while working toward
a law degree. Later, Shea owned and operated the Long Island
Indians, a minor league professional football team. He was the lawyer
for Ted Collins' old Boston Yankees in the National Football
League. #@#

All was quiet in the office of the Yankees

and the local National Leaguers yesterday. On Friday, Roger Maris,
the Yankee outfielder and winner of the American League's most-valuable-player
award, will meet with Roy Hamey, the general manager.
Maris is in line for a big raise.

Arnold Palmer and Sam Snead will be among those honored at

the national awards dinner of the Metropolitan Golf Writers Association
tonight. The dinner will be held at the Hotel Pierre.
Palmer, golf's leading money-winner in 1960, and Snead will be saluted
as the winning team in the Canada Cup matches last June in Dublin.
Deane Beman, the National Amateur champion, and all the metropolitan
district champions, including Bob Gardner, the amateur title-holder,
also will receive awards. The writers' Gold Tee
Award will go to John McAuliffe of Plainfield, N& J&, and
Palm Beach, Fla&, for his sponsorship of charity tournaments. Horton
Smith of Detroit, a former president of the Professional Golfers
Association, will receive the Ben Hogan Trophy for his comeback
following a recent illness. The principal speaker will be Senator
Stuart Symington, Democrat of Missouri.

#GOLF'S GOLDEN BOY#

ARNOLD PALMER has been a blazing figure

in golf over the past twelve months. He won the Masters, the United
States Open and a record $80,738 in prize money. He was heralded
as "Sportsman of the Year" by Sports Illustrated, and last night
was acclaimed in Rochester as the "Professional Athlete of the
Year", a distinction that earned for him the $10,000 diamond- studded
Hickok Belt. But he also achieved something that endeared
him to every duffer who ever flubbed a shot. A couple of weeks ago,
he scored a monstrous 12 on a par-5 hole. It made him human. And
it also stayed the hands of thousands of brooding incompetents who were
meditating the abandonment of a sport whose frustrations were driving
them to despair. If such a paragon of perfection as Palmer could
commit such a scoring sacrilege, there was hope left for all. It
was neither a spirit of self-sacrifice nor a yen to encourage the downtrodden
that motivated Arnold. He merely became victimized by a form
of athletics that respects no one and aggravates all. The world's
best golfer, shooting below par, came to the last hole of the opening
round of the Los Angeles open with every intention of delivering
a final crusher. He boomed a 280-yard drive. Then the pixies and the
zombies took over while the banshees wailed in the distance.

#NO MARGIN
FOR ERROR#

On the narrow fairway of a 508-yard hole, Arnold whipped

into his second shot. The ball went off in a majestic arc, an
out-of-bounds slice. He tried again and once more sliced out of bounds.
He hooked the next two out of bounds on the opposite side.
"It is possible that I over-corrected", he said ruefully. Each
of the four wayward shots cost him two strokes. So he wound up with a
dozen. "It was a nice round figure, that 12", he said as
he headed for the clubhouse, not too much perturbed. From the
standpoint of the army of duffers, however, this was easily the most heartening
exhibition they had had since Ben Hogan fell upon evil ways
during his heyday and scored an 11 in the Texas open. The idol of
the hackers, of course, is Ray Ainsley, who achieved a 19 in the United
States Open. Their secondary hero is another pro, Willie Chisholm,
who drank his lunch during another Open and tried to blast his
way out of a rock-strewn gully. Willie's partner was Long Jim Barnes,
who tried to keep count.

#STICKLER FOR RULES#

"How many
is that, Jim"? asked Willie at one stage of his excavation project.
"Thirteen", said Long Jim. "Nae, man",
said Willie, "ye must be countin' the echoes". He had a 16.

Palmer's dozen were honestly earned. Nor were there any rules
to save him. If there had been, he would have found a loophole, because
Arnold is one golfer who knows the code as thoroughly as the man
who wrote the book. This knowledge has come in handy, too. His
first shot in the Open last year landed in a brook that flowed along
the right side of the fairway. The ball floated downstream. A spectator
picked up the ball and handed it to a small boy, who dropped this
suddenly hot potato in a very playable lie. Arnold sent for
Joe Dey, the executive secretary of the golf association. Joe naturally
ruled that a ball be dropped from alongside the spot where it had
originally entered the stream. "I knew it all along", confessed
Arnold with a grin, "but I just happened to think how much
nicer it would be to drop one way up there". For a serious young
man who plays golf with a serious intensity, Palmer has such an
inherent sense of humor that it relieves the strain and keeps his nerves
from jangling like banjo strings. Yet he remains the fiercest of competitors.
He'll even bull head-on into the rules when he is sure
he's right. That's how he first won the Masters in 1958.
It happened on the twelfth hole, a 155-yarder. Arnold's iron shot
from
the tee burrowed into the bunker guarding the green, an embankment
that had become soft and spongy from the rains, thereby bringing local
rules into force.

#RULING FROM ON HIGH#

"I can remove the ball,

can't I"? asked Palmer of an official. "No", said
the official. "You must play it where it lies". "You're
wrong", said Arnold, a man who knows the rules. "I'll do
as you say, but I'll also play a provisional ball and get a
ruling".

He scored a 4 for the embedded ball, a 3 with the provisional

one. The golfing fathers ruled in his favor. So he picked up a stroke
with the provisional ball and won the tournament by the margin of
that stroke. Until a few weeks ago, however, Arnold Palmer
was some god-like creature who had nothing in common with the duffers.
But after that 12 at Los Angeles he became one of the boys, a bigger
hero than he ever had been before.

A formula to supply players for the new Minneapolis Vikings

and
the problem of increasing the 1961 schedule to fourteen games will
be discussed by National Football League owners at a meeting at the
Hotel Warwick today. Other items on the agenda during the
meetings, which are expected to continue through Saturday, concern television,
rules changes, professional football's hall of fame, players'
benefits and constitutional amendments. The owners would
like each club in the fourteen-team league to play a home-and-home series
with teams in its division, plus two games against teams in the other
division. However, this would require a lengthening of the season
from thirteen to fourteen weeks. Pete Rozelle, the league commissioner,
pointed out: "We'll have the problem of baseball
at one end and weather at the other". Nine of the league's
teams play in baseball parks and therefore face an early-season
conflict in dates.

If the Cardinals heed Manager Gene Mauch of the Phillies,

they won't be misled by the Pirates' slower start this season.

"Pittsburgh definitely is the team to beat", Mauch said here

the other day. "The Pirates showed they could outclass the field
last year. They have the same men, no age problem, no injuries and
they also have Vinegar Bend Mizell for the full season, along with
Bobby Shantz". Tonight at 8 o'clock the Cardinals, who
gave the Pirates as much trouble as anyone did in 1960, breaking even
with them, will get their first 1961 shot at baseball's world champions.
The Pirates have a 9-6 record this year and the Redbirds are
7-9.

#CHANGE IN PITCHERS.#

Solly Hemus announced a switch in his

starting pitcher, from Bob Gibson to Ernie Broglio, for several
reasons: 1. Broglio's 4-0 won-lost record and 1.24 earned-run mark
against Pittsburgh a year ago; 2. The desire to give Broglio as
many starts as possible; 3. The Redbirds' disheartening 11-7 collapse
against the Phillies Sunday. Manager Hemus, eager to
end a pitching slump that has brought four losses in the five games
on the current home stand, moved Gibson to the Wednesday night starting
assignment. After Thursday's open date, Solly plans to open with
Larry Jackson against the Cubs here Friday night. Harvey
Haddix, set back by the flu this season, will start against his former
Cardinal mates, who might be playing without captain Kenny Boyer
in tonight's game at Busch Stadium. Boyer is suffering from a stiff
neck. Haddix has a 13-8 record against the Redbirds, despite
only a 1-3 mark in 1960. Pirate Manager Danny Murtaugh
said he hadn't decided between Mizell and Vern Law for Wednesday's
game. Mizell has won both of his starts.

#NIEMAN KEPT IN LINEUP.#

After a lengthy workout yesterday, an open date, Hemus said that

Bob Nieman definitely would stay in the lineup. That means Stan
Musial probably will ride the bench on the seventh anniversary of his
record five-home run day against the Giants. "I have to stay
with Nieman for a while", Hemus said. "Bill White (sore ankles)
should be ready. With a lefthander going for Pittsburgh, I may
use Don Taussig in center". "Lindy McDaniel threw batting
practice about 25 minutes, and he looked good", Hemus said. "He
should be getting back in the groove before long. Our pitching
is much better than it has shown". The statistics hardly indicated
that the Pirates needed extra batting practice, but Murtaugh
also turned his men loose at Busch Stadium yesterday.

#SIX BUCKS OVER

.300.#

Until the Bucs' bats quieted down a bit in Cincinnati

over the weekend, the champions had eight men hitting over .300. Despite
the recession, Pittsburgh came into town with this imposing list
of averages: Smoky Burgess .455, Gino Cimoli .389, Bill Virdon
.340, Bob Clemente and Dick Groat, each .323, Dick Stuart .306,
Don Hoak .280 and Bob Skinner .267. Bill Mazeroski with
.179 and Hal Smith with .143 were the only Pirates dragging their
feet. Perhaps the Pirate who will be the unhappiest over the
news that Musial probably will sit out most of the series is Bob Friend,
who was beaten by The Man twice last season on dramatic home
runs. Friend is off to a great start with a 4-0 record but isn't likely
to see action here this week. "We're getting Friend
some runs for a change, and he has been pitching good", Murtaugh said.
"Virdon has been blasting the ball. No plunkers for him".

#SIX
BUCS OVER .300.#

The Pirates jumped off to an 11-3 start by May

1 last year, when the Redbirds as well as the Dodgers held them
even over the season. On last May 1, the Cardinals stood at 7-6, ending
a two-season fall-off on that milestone. In 1958, the Birds were
3-10 on May 1. A year later they were 4-13. Since 1949, the
St& Louis club has been below .500 on May 1 just four times. The
'49 team was off to a so-so 5-5 beginning, then fell as low as 12-17
on May 23 before finishing with 96 victories. The '52 Cards
were 6-7 on May 1 but ended with 88 triumphs, the club's top
since
1949. Then last season the Birds tumbled as low as 11-18 on May
19 before recovering to make a race of it and total 86 victories.

Since 1949, the only National League club that got off to a hot
start and made a runaway of the race was the '55 Dodger team. Those
Dodgers won their first 10 games and owned a 21-2 mark and a nine-game
lead by May 8. The club that overcame the worst start in a comparable
period to win the pennant was New York's '51 Giants, who
dropped 11 of their first 13.

They honored the battling Billikens last night. Speakers at

a Tipoff Club dinner dealt lavish praise to a group of St& Louis
University players who, in the words of Coach John Benington, "had
more confidence in themselves than I did". The most valuable
player award was split three ways, among Glen Mankowski, Gordon
Hartweger and Tom Kieffer. In addition, a special award was given
to Bob (Bevo) Nordmann, the 6-foot-10 center who missed much of
the season because of a knee injury. "You often hear people
talk about team spirit and that sort of thing", Benington said in a
conversation after the ceremonies, "but what this team had was a little
different. The boys had a tremendous respect for each other's
ability. They knew what they could do and it was often a little more
than I thought they could do.

"Several times I found the players

pepping me up, where it usually is the coach who is supposed to
deliver the fight talk. We'd be losing at halftime to a good team
and Hartweger would say, 'Don't worry, Coach- we'll get 'em
all right'". The trio who shared the most-valuable honors
were introduced by Bob Broeg, sports editor of the Post-Dispatch.

Kieffer, the only junior in the group, was commended for his
ability to hit in the clutch, as well as his all-round excellent play.

Mankowski, the ball-hawking defensive expert, was cited for

his performance against Bradley in St& Louis U&'s nationally
televised victory. Benington said, "I've never seen a player
have a game as great as Mankowski did against Bradley that day".

Benington recalled that he once told Hartweger that he doubted

Gordon would ever play much for him because he seemed to be lacking
in all of the accepted basketball skills. After the coach listed all
the boy's faults, Hartweger said, "Coach before I leave here,
you'll get to like me". Mrs& Benington admired Gordon's
spirit and did what she could to persuade her husband that the boy
might help the team. As Hartweger accepted his silver bowl,
he said, "I want to thank coach's wife for talking him into letting
me play". Bob Burnes, sports editor of the Globe-Democrat,
presented Bob Nordmann with his award. Bevo was congratulated for
his efforts to stay in shape so that he could help the team if his
knee healed in time. Within a week after the injury, suffered in St&
Louis's victory in the final game of the Kentucky tournament, Nordmann
was sitting on the Bill's bench doing what he could to help
Benington. On the clock given him was the inscription, "For
Outstanding Contribution to Billiken Basketball, 1960-61".

Other lettermen from the team that compiled a 21-9 record and finished
as runner-up in the National Invitation Tournament were:
Art Hambric, Donnell Reid, Bill Nordmann, Dave Harris, Dave Luechtefeld
and George Latinovich. "This team set a precedent
that could be valuable in the future", Benington pointed out. "By
winning against Bradley, Kentucky and Notre Dame on those teams'
home courts, they showed that the home court advantage can be overcome
anywhere and that it doesn's take a super team to do it".

St& Louis University found a way to win a baseball game. Larry

Scherer last night pitched a no-hit game, said to be the first
in Billiken baseball history, as the Blue and White beat Southeast
Missouri State College, 5-1, at Crystal City. The victory
was the first of the season for the Billikens after nine defeats and
a tie. The tie was against Southeast Missouri last Friday.
Scherer also had a big night at bat with four hits in five trips including
a double, Len Boehmer also was 4-for-5 with two doubles and Dave
Ritchie had a home run and a triple. St& Louis U&
was to be in action again today with a game scheduled at 4 against Washington
University at Ligget Field. The game opened a busy
week for Washington. The Bears are set to play at Harris Teachers
College at 3:30 tomorrow and have a doubleheader at Quincy, Ill&,
Saturday.

#HAPPY HITTING#

If it's true that contented cows give more milk,

why shouldn't happy ball players produce more base hits?
The two top talents of the time, Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays,
have
hit the ball harder and more successfully so far this early season
than at any period in careers which, to be frank about it, never have
quite reached expectations. And that's meant as a boost, not
a knock. Mays and Mantle, both 10-year men at 30, have so
much ability that, baseball men agree, they've never hit the heights.
Their heights, that is. Mantle, the bull-necked blond switch-hitter,
had one sensational triple-crown season, 1959, when he batted
.365 and also led the American League in home runs, 52, and ~RBIs,
130. Like the Yankees' slugger, Mays, the terror of
the Giants, has had seasons that would be considered the ultimate by
most players, but not by- or for- Willie. His best years were 1954
when he hit .345 with 41 homers and '55 when he belted 51 home runs,
drove in 127 and stole 24 bases. Now, apparently happier
under new managers, Mays and Mantle, the perfect players, are behaving
as though they're going to pass those previous peaks.

#LABOR RELATIONS#

Yes, we know, they're professionals, men paid to play, and

they shouldn't care how they're handled, just as long as their
names are spelled correctly on the first and fifteenth of each month.

The truth is, though, that men react differently to different

treatment. For that matter, Stan Musial is rare, possessing the disposition
that enabled him to put out the same for seven managers, reserving
his opinions, but not
his effort. Mantle, it's apparent,
resented Casey Stengel's attempts to push and prod him into the
perfection the veteran manager saw as a thrilling possibility. The old
man was almost too possessive. Stengel inherited DiMaggio, Rizzuto,
but HE brought up Mantle from Class ~C to the majors, from
Joplin to New York. With the speed and power of the body
beautiful he saw before him, Ol' Case wanted No& 7 to be not
only the best homerun hitter, but also the best bunter, base-runner and
outfielder. Stengel probably preached too much in the early days when
the kid wanted to pop his bubble gum and sow his oats. Inheriting
a more mature Mantle, who now has seen the sights on and off Broadway,
Ralph Houk quietly bestowed, no pun intended, the mantle of
authority on Mickey. The Major decided that, rather than be led,
the slugger could lead. And what leadership a proud Mantle has given
so far. The opinion continues here that with a 162-game schedule,
pitching spread thin through a 10-team league and a most inviting
target in Los Angeles' Wrigley Field Jr&, Mantle just might
break the most glamorous record on the books, Babe Ruth's 60 homers
of 1927.

#FOUR FOR ALVIN#

Mays' day came a day earlier for

Willie than for the kids and Commies this year. Willie's wonderful
walloping Sunday- four home runs- served merely to emphasize how
happy he is to be playing for Alvin Dark. Next to Leo Durocher,
Dark taught Mays the most when he was a grass-green rookie rushed
up to the Polo Grounds 10 years ago this month, to help the Giants
win a dramatic pennant.

ROMANTIC news concerns Mrs& Joan Monroe Armour and

F& Lee H& Wendell, who are to be married at 4:30 p& m& tomorrow
in the Lake Forest home of her brother, J& Hampton Monroe,
and Mrs& Monroe. Only the families and a dozen close friends
will be present. The bride's brother, Walter D& Monroe
Jr&, will give her in marriage. In the small group will be the junior
and senior Mrs& Walter Monroe; the bridegroom's parents,
the Barrett Wendells, who are returning from a winter holiday in Sarasota,
Fla&, for the occasion; and his brother, Mr& Wendell
Jr&, and his wife, who will arrive from Boston. Mr& Wendell Jr&
will be best man. Also present will be the bride's children,
Joan, 13, and Kirkland, 11. Their father is Charles B& Armour.
The bridegroom's children were here for the Christmas holidays
and can't return. Young Peter Wendell, a student at the Westminster
school, has measles, and his sister, Mrs& Andrew Thomas,
and her husband, who live in Missoula, Mont&, have a new baby. Their
mother is Mrs& Camilla Alsop Wendell. Mr& Wendell
and his bride will live in his Lake Forest house. They will take a
wedding trip later. #'BACK WITH THE MET'#

"We are back with

the 'Met' again now that the 'Met' is back in
Chicago",
bulletins Mrs& Frank S& Sims, president of the women's board
of the University of Chicago Cancer Research Foundation. The New
York Metropolitan Opera Company will be here in May, and the board
will sponsor the Saturday night, May 13, performance of "Turandot"
as a benefit. Birgit Nilsson will be starred. "Housed
in the new McCormick Place theater, this should prove to be an
exciting evening", adds Mrs& Sims. The board's last money raising
event was a performance by Harry Belafonte- "quite off-beat
for this group", decided some of the members. Mrs& Henry T&
Sulcer of Winnetka, a new board member, will be chairman of publicity
for the benefit. Her husband recently was appointed vice president
of the university, bringing them back here from the east.

#PARICHY-HAMM#

Because of the recent death of the bride's father, Frederick

B& Hamm, the marriage of Miss Terry Hamm to John Bruce Parichy
will be a small one at noon tomorrow in St& Bernadine's church,
Forest Park. A small reception will follow in the Oak Park Arms
hotel. Mrs& Hamm will not come from Vero Beach, Fla&,
for the wedding. However, Mr& Parichy and his bride will go
to Vero Beach on their wedding trip, and will stay in the John G&
Beadles' beach house. The Beadles formerly lived in Lake Forest.

Harvey B& Stevens of Kenilworth will give his niece in

marriage. Mr& and Mrs& Stevens and the bride's other uncles
and aunts, the Rush C& Butlers, the Homer E& Robertsons, and
the David Q& Porters, will give the bridal dinner tonight in the
Stevenses' home.

#HERE AND THERE#

The Chicago Press club will

fete George E& Barnes, president of the United States Lawn
Tennis association, at a cocktail party and buffet supper beginning
at 5:30 p& m& tomorrow. Later, a bus will carry members to the
Chicago Stadium to see Jack Kramer's professional tennis matches
at 8 p& m&.

WITH loud huzzahs for the artistic success of the Presbyterian-St&

Luke's Fashion show still ringing in her ears, its director,
Helen Tieken Geraghty [Mrs& Maurice P& Geraghty]
is taking off tomorrow on a 56 day world trip which should earn her even
greater acclaim as director of entertainment for next summer's International
Trade fair. Armed with letters from embassies to ministers
of countries, especially those in the near and far east, Mrs&
Geraghty "will beat the bushes for oriental talent". "We
[the Chicago Association of Commerce and Industry] expect to establish
closer relations with nations and their cultural activities,
and it will be easy as a member of the fair staff to bring in acts",
explains Mrs& Geraghty. "For instance, Djakarta, Indonesia,
has three groups of dancers interested in coming here. I'm even going
to try to get the whirling dervishes of Damascus"! The
last obstacle in Mrs& Geraghty's globe-girdling trip was smoothed
out when a representative of Syria called upon her to explain that
his brother would meet her at the border of that country- so newly
separated from Egypt and the United Arab Republic that she hadn't
been able to obtain a visa.

#FIRST, HONOLULU#

Honolulu will be
Mrs& Geraghty's first stop. Then Japan, Hong Kong, Manila,
India, Pakistan, Damascus, Beirut, and to Rome, London, and Paris
"to look over wonderful talent". Dec& 22 is the deadline
for Mrs& Geraghty's return; the Geraghtys' youngest daughter,
Molly, bows in the Passavant Debutante Cotillion the next
night. Molly already has her cotillion gown, and it's fitted, says
her mother. Also, invitations have been addressed to Molly's debut
tea the afternoon of Dec& 29 in the Arts club. It won't
be a "tea", however, but more of an international folk song festival,
with singers from Chicago's foreign groups to sing Christmas
songs from around the world. The international theme will be continued
with the Balkan strings playing for a dinner the Byron Harveys will
give in the Racquet club after the tea. Miss Abra Prentice's
debut supper dance in the Casino will wind up the day.

#BURKE-ROSTAGNO#

The Richard S& Burkes' home in Wayne may be the setting

for the wedding reception for their daughter, Helen Lambert, and the
young Italian she met last year while studying in Florence during
her junior year at Smith college. He is Aldo Rostagno, son of the
Guglielmo Rostagnos of Florence whom the Burkes met last year in
Europe. The Burkes, who now live in Kankakee, are telling friends
of the engagement. Miss Burke, a graduate of Miss Hall's
school, stayed on in Florence as a career girl. Her fiance, who is with
a publishing firm, translates many books from English into Italian.
He will be coming here on business in December, when the wedding
is to take place in Wayne. Miss Burke will arrive in December also.

#HERE AND THERE#

A farewell supper Mr& and Mrs& Charles

H& Sethness Jr& planned Sunday for Italian Consul General
and Mrs& Giacomo Profili has been canceled because Mr& Sethness
is in Illinois Masonic hospital for surgery. Mrs& William
Odell, Mrs& Clinton B& King, John Holabird Jr&, Norman
Boothby, and Actress Maureen O'Sullivan will judge the costumes
in the grand march at the Affaire Old Towne Bal Masque tomorrow
in the Germania club. The party is to raise money for the Old Town
Art center and to plant more crabapple trees along the streets of
Old Town.

LYON AROUND: Columnist Walter Winchell, well and

rat-a-tat-tatty
again, wheeled thru town between trains yesterday en route
to his Phoenix, Ariz&, rancho, portable typewriter in hand. If W&
W&'s retiring soon, as hinted, he ain't talking- yet. **h
Pretty Sunny Ainsworth, the ex-Mrs& Tommy Manville and the
ex-Mrs& Bud Arvey, joined Playboy-Show-Biz Illustrated, as a
promotional copy writer. She's a whiz. **h You can get into an argument
about fallout shelters at the drop of a beer stein in clubs and
pubs these nights. Everybody has a different idea on the ethics and morals
of driving away neighbors, when and if. **h Comic Gary Morton
signed to play the Living Room here Dec& 18, because that's the
only time his heart, Lucille Ball, can come along. And watch for
a headline from this pair any time now. ##

{The Living Room has

another scoop: Jane Russell will make one of her rare night club
singing appearances there, opening Jan& 22. La Russell's run
in "Skylark", debuting next week at Drury Lane, already is a sellout.
**h Johnny Ray, at the same L& R&, has something to
cry
about. He's been warbling in severe pain; a medico's injection
inflamed a nerve, and Johnny can barely walk. **h Charley Simonelli,
top Universal-International
film studio exec, makes an honest man out
of this column. As we bulletin'd way back, he'll wed pretty Rosemary
Strafaci, of the Golf Mag staff, in N& Y& C& today.
Handsome bachelor Charley was a favorite date of many of Hollywood's
glamor gals for years}. @
##

GEORGE SIMON, exec director

of Danny Thomas A& L& S& A& C& [Aiding Leukemia
Stricken American Children] fund raising group, filled me in on the
low-down phonies who are using phones to solicit funds for Danny's
St& Jude hospital in Memphis. There is no such thing as an "emergency
telephone building fund drive". The only current event they're
staging is the big show at the Stadium Nov& 25, when Danny
will entertain thousands of underprivileged kids. You can mail contribs
to Danny Thomas, Post Office Box 7599, Chicago. So, if anybody
solicits by phone, make sure you mail the dough to the above. **h
Olivia De Havilland signed to do a Broadway play for Garson Kanin
this season, "A Gift of Time". She'll move to Gotham after
years in Paris. ##

{Gorgeous Doris Day and her producer-hubby,

Marty Melcher, drive in today from a motor tour thru New England.
D& D& will pop up with ~U-~I Chief Milt Rackmil
at the Carnegie theater tomorrow to toast 300 movie exhibitors. It'll
be an all day affair with screenings of Doris' new one, "Lover
Come Back", and "Flower Drum Song". **h Whee the People:
Lovely Thrush Annamorena gave up a promising show biz career to
apply glamor touches to her hubby, Ray Lenobel's fur firm here.
Typical touch: She sold a $10,000 morning light mink to Sportsman
Freddie Wacker for his frau,
Jana Mason, also an ex-singer. In honor
of the Wackers' new baby. Fur goodness sake!} @ ##

EMCEE
Jack Herbert insists Dick Nixon's campaign slogan for governor
of California is, "Knight Must Fall"! **h Give generously
when you buy candy today for the Brain Research Foundation. It's
one of our town's worthiest charities. **h Best Bet for Tonight:
That darlin' dazzler from Paree, Genevieve, opening in the
Empire room. **h Dave Trager, who is quite a showman and boss of Chicago's
new pro basketball Packers, is debuting a new International
club, for the exclusive use of season ticket holders, in the Stock
Yards Inn. Jump off is tomorrow night when the Packs meet St&
Louis in their season home opener. **h Nobody's mentioned it, but
when ol' Casey Stengel takes over as boss of the New York Mets,
he'll be the only baseballight ever to wear the uniform of all New
York area clubs, past and present: Yankees, Dodgers, Giants, and
now the Mets. **h And Bernie Kriss calls the bayonet clashes at
Berlin's Brandenburg Gate, "The Battle of the Sentry"!
##

THE JOTTED LYON: This mad world dept&: Khrush and

the Kremlin crowd are confident all right. They're contaminating
the earth's atmosphere including their own via mighty megaton bombs
but their own peasants still don't know about it! **h More: On
the free world side. Albert John Luthuli, awarded a Nobel prize
for his South African integration struggles, has to get permission to
fly to collect his honor. Hmpf **h But on to the frothier side **h
Johnny Weissmuller, the only real Tarzan, telephoned Maureen O'Sullivan,
his first "Jane" [now at Drury Lane, and muttered,
"Me Tarzan, this Jane"? Snapped Maureen, "Me Jane"!
**h Actually Johnny is a glib, garrulous guy, with a rare sense of
humor. Everywhere he went in town, people sidled up, gave him the guttural
bit or broke into a frightening Tarzan yodel. He kids his Tarzan
roles more than anyone. ##

{"La Dolce Vita", the dynamite

Italian flicker, opens at popular prices at the Loop theater
Nov& 2. My idea of masterful movie making. **h Bill Veeck's health
is back to the dynamo stage, but his medics insist he rest for several
more months before getting back into the baseball swim. William
keeps up with our town's doings daily, via the Tribune, and he tells
me he never misses the Ticker. That's our boy Bill. **h Jean
Fardulli's Blue Angel is the first top local club to import that
crazy new dance, the Twist. They'll start lessons, too, pronto. **h
A cheer here for Francis Lorenz, state treasurer, who will meet
with the probate advisory board of the Chicago Bar association, for
suggestions on how to handle the opening of safety deposit boxes after
somebody dies.

After being closed for seven months, the Garden of the Gods
Club will have its gala summer opening Saturday, June 3. Music
for dancing will be furnished by {Allen Uhles} and his orchestra,
who will play each Saturday during June. Members and guests
will be in for an added surprise with the new wing containing 40
rooms and suites, each with its own private patio. {Gene
Marshall}, genial manager of the club, has announced that the Garden
of the Gods will open to members Thursday, June 1. Beginning
July 4, there will be an orchestra playing nightly except Sunday
and Monday for the summer season. {Mrs& J& Edward Hackstaff}
and {Mrs& Paul Luette} are planning a luncheon next
week in honor of {Mrs& J& Clinton Bowman}, who celebrates
her birthday on Tuesday. {Mr& and Mrs& Jerry Chase}
announce the birth of a daughter, {Sheila}, on Wednesday in
Mercy Hospital. Grandparents are {Mr& and Mrs& Robert
L& Chase} and {Mr& and Mrs& Guy Mullenax} of Kittredge.
Mrs& Chase is the former {Miss Mary Mullenax}.

#BACK TO W& COAST#

{Mrs& McIntosh Buell} will

leave
Sunday to return to her home in Santa Barbara, Calif&, after spending
a week in her Polo Grounds home. {Mrs& John C&
Vroman Jr}& of Manzanola is spending several days in her Sherman
Plaza apartment. {Mr& and Mrs& Merrill Shoup}
have returned to their home in Colorado Springs after spending a few
days at the Brown Palace Hotel. {Brig& Gen& and
Mrs& Robert F& McDermott} will entertain at a black tie dinner
Wednesday, May 3, in the Officers' Club at the Air Force
Academy.

#COCKTAIL PARTY#

{Mr& and Mrs& Piero de Luise}

will honor Italian {Consul and Mrs& Emilio Bassi} at a
cocktail party Tuesday, May 2, from 6 to 8 p&m& in their home. The
Bassis are leaving soon for their new post. There will be
a stag dinner Friday evening at the Denver Country Club which will
precede the opening of the 1961 golf season. Cocktails will
be served from 6 to 7 p&m&, with dinner at 7 and entertainment in
the main dining room immediately following. {Miss Betsy Parker}
was one of the speakers on the panel of the Eastern Women's
Liberal Arts College panel on Wednesday evening in the Security
Life Bldg&. Guests were juniors in the public high schools.

#FASHION SHOW#

The committee for the annual Central City fashion

show has been announced by {Mrs& D& W& Moore}, chairman.

The event, staged yearly by Neusteters, will be held in

the Opera House Wednesday, Aug& 16. It will be preceded by luncheon
in the Teter House. {Mrs& Roger Mead} is head
of the luncheon table decorations {Mrs& Stanley Wright} is
ticket chairman and {Mrs& Theodore Pate} is in charge of publicity.

Members of the committee include {Mrs& Milton Bernet,

Mrs& J& Clinton Bowman, Mrs& Rollie W& Bradford,
Mrs& Samuel Butler Jr&, Mrs& Donald Carr Campbell, Mrs&
Douglas Carruthers, Mrs& John C& Davis /3,, Mrs&
Cris Dobbins, Mrs& William E& Glass, Mrs& Alfred Hicks
/2,, Mrs& Donald Magarrell, Mrs& Willett Moore, Mrs& Myron
Neusteter, Mrs& Richard Gibson Smith, Mrs& James S&
Sudier /2,} and {Mrs& Thomas Welborn}. The first
committee meeting will be held on May 19. {Mr& and Mrs&
Andrew S& Kelsey} of Washington, D&C&, announce the birth
of a daughter, {Kira Ann Kelsey}, on Monday in Washington,
D&C&. Grandparents are {Mr& and Mrs& R&L&
Rickenbaugh} and {Mr& and Mrs& E&O& Kelsey} of
Scarsdale, N&Y&. Mrs& Kelsey is the former {Miss
Ann Rickenbaugh}.

A cheery smile, a compassionate interest in others and a practical

down-to-earth approach. Those qualities make {Esther Marr}
a popular asset at the Salvation Army's Social
Center at 1200 Larimer st&. The pert, gray-haired woman
who came to Denver three years ago from Buffalo, N&Y&, is
a "civilian" with the Army. Her position covers a number
of daily tasks common to any social director. The job also covers a
number of other items. "Mom" Marr, as the more than 80 men
at the center call her,
is the link that helps to bridge the gulf between
alcoholics and the outside world and between parolees and society.

Her day starts early, but no matter how many pressing letters
there are to be written (and during May, which is National Salvation
Army Week, there are plenty), schedules to be made or problems
to be solved, Mrs& Marr's office is always open and the welcome
mat is out. {MRS& MARR} is the first contact a Skid
Row
figure talks to after he decides he wants to pick himself up.

She sees that there is a cup of steaming hot coffee awaiting him and
the two chat informally as she presents the rules of the center and
explains procedures. "Usually at this point a man is withdrawn
from society and one of my jobs is to see that he relearns to mingle
with his fellow men", Mrs& Marr explained. The Denverite
has worked out an entire program to achieve this using the facilities
of the center. "And I bum tickets to everything I can",
she said. "I've become the greatest beggar in the world".

{IN ADDITION}
to the tickets to the movies, sporting events
and concerts, Mrs& Marr lines up candy and cookies because alcoholics
require a lot of sweets to replace the sugar in their system.

Mrs& Marr also has a number of parolees to "mother", watching

to see that they do not break their parole and that they also learn
to readjust to society.

By mid-June, millions of Americans will take to the road on

vacation trips up and down and back and forth across this vast and lovely
land. In another four weeks, with schools closed across the
nation, the great all-American summer safari will be under way. By
July 1, six weeks from now, motel-keepers all over the nation will,
by 6 p&m&, be switching on that bleak- to motorists- sign, "No
Vacancy". No matter how many Americans go abroad in
summer, probably a hundred times as many gas up the family car, throw
suitcases, kids and comic books in the back seat, and head for home. And
where is "home", that magic place of the heart? Ah,
that is simple. Home is where a man was born, reared, went to school
and, most particularly, where grandma is. That is where we turn in the
good old summertime. The land lies ready for the coming onslaught.
My husband and I, a month ahead of the rush, have just finished
a 7-day motor journey of 2809 miles from Tucson, Ariz&, to New
York City:

#SET FOR INFLUX#

I can testify that motels, service

and comfort stations (they go together like Scots and heather), dog
wagons, roadside restaurants, souvenir stands and snake farms are braced
and waiting. I hope it can be said without boasting that
no other nation offers its vacationing motorists such variety and beauty
of scene, such an excellent network of roads on which to enjoy it and
such decent, far-flung over-night accommodations. Maybe motel-keeping
isn't the nation's biggest industry, but it certainly looks
that way from the highway. There are motels for all purposes
and all tastes. There are even motels for local weather peculiarities,
as I discovered in Shamrock, Tex&. There the Royal Motel
advertises "all facilities, vented heat, air conditioned, carpeted,
free ~TV, storm cellar".

#MANY WITH POOLS#

Innumerable motels
from Tucson to New York boast swimming pools ("swim at your
own risk" is the hospitable sign poised at the brink of most pools).
Some even boast two pools, one for adults and one for children. But
the Royal Motel in Shamrock was the only one that offered the comfort
and security of a storm cellar. Motorists like myself who
can remember the old "tourists accommodated" signs on farm houses
and village homes before World War /2, can only marvel at the great
size and the luxury of the relatively new and fast-grossing motel business.

#ALL FOR $14!#

At the Boxwood Motel in Winchester,

Va&, we accidentally drew the honeymoon suite, an elegant affair with
wall-to-wall carpeting, gold and white furniture, pink satin brocade
chairs, 24-inch ~TV and a pink tile bath with masses of pink towels.
All for $14. That made up for the "best" motel in Norman,
Okla&, where the proprietor knocked $2 off the $8.50 tab when
we found ants in the pressed-paper furniture.

Oxnard, Calif&, will be the home of the Rev& Robert D&

Howard and his bride, the former Miss Judith Ellen Gay, who were
married Saturday at the Munger Place Methodist Church.
Parents of the bride are Mr& and Mrs& Ferris M& Gay, 7034
Coronado. The bridegroom is the son of Mrs& James Baines of Los
Angeles, Calif&, and Carl E& Howard of Santa Monica, Calif&.
He is a graduate of ~UCLA and Perkins School of Theology,
~SMU. Dr& W& B& I& Martin officiated, and
the bride was given in marriage by her father. Honor attendants for
the couple were Miss Sandra Branum and Warren V& McRoberts.

The couple will honeymoon in Sequoia National Park, Calif&.

Miss Joan Frances Baker, a graduate of ~SMU, was married

Saturday to Elvis Leonard Mason, an honor graduate of Lamar State
College of Technology, in the chapel of the First Presbyterian
Church of Houston. The bride, daughter of Rhodes Semmes
Baker Jr& of Houston and the late Mrs& Baker, was president of
Kappa Kappa Gamma and a member of Mortar Board at ~SMU. Her
husband, who is the son of Alton John Mason of Shreveport, La&,
and the late Mrs& Henry Cater Parmer, was president of Alpha
Tau Omega and a member of Delta Sigma Pi at Lamar Tech, and did
graduate work at Rhodes University in Grahamstown, South Africa,
on a Rotary Fellowship. The Rev& Richard Freeman of
Texas City officiated and Charles Pabor and Mrs& Marvin Hand
presented music. The bride was given in marriage by her father.
She wore a court-length gown of organdy designed with bateau neckline
and princesse skirt accented by lace appliques. Her veil was caught
to a crown, and she carried gardenias and stephanotis. Miss
Mary Ross of Baird was maid of honor, and bridesmaids were Miss Pat
Dawson of Austin, Mrs& Howard M& Dean of Hinsdale, Ill&,
and Mrs& James A& Reeder of Shreveport, La&. Cecil
Mason of Hartford, Conn&, was best man for his brother, and
groomsmen were Rhodes S& Baker /3, of Houston, Dr& James
Carter of Houston and Conrad McEachern of New Orleans, La&.
Lee Jackson and Ken Smith, both of Houston, and Alfred Neumann
of Beaumont seated guests. After a reception at The Mayfair,
the newlyweds left for a wedding trip to New Orleans, La&. They
will live in Corpus Christi.

Miss Shirley Joan Meredith, a former student of North Texas

State University, was married Saturday to Larry W& Mills, who
has attended Arlington State College. They will live at 2705 Fitzhugh
after a wedding trip to Corpus Christi. Parents of the
couple are Ray Meredith of Denton and the late Mrs& Meredith
and Mrs& Hardy P& Mills of Floresville and the late Mr& Mills.

The Rev& Melvin Carter officiated at the ceremony

in Slaughter Chapel of the First Baptist Church. Dan Beam presented
music and the bride was given in marriage by her father.
She wore a gown of satin designed along princesse lines and featuring
a flared skirt and lace jacket with bateau neckline. Her veil was
caught to a pearl headdress, and she carried stephanotis and orchids.

Miss Glenda Kay Meredith of Denton was her sister's maid

or honor, and Vernon Lewelleyn of San Angelo was best man. Robert
Lovelace and Cedric Burgher Jr& seated guests. A reception was
held at the church.

The First Christian Church of Pampa was the setting for the
wedding last Sunday of Miss Marcile Marie Glison and Thomas Earl
Loving Jr&, who will live at 8861 Gaston after a wedding trip
to New Orleans, La& The bride, daughter of Mr& and Mrs&
Charles Ervin Glison of Pampa, has attended Texas Woman's
University and will continue her studies at ~SMU.

"A Night in New Orleans" is the gayety planned by members

of the Thrift Shop Committee for May 6 at Philmont Country Club.
The women have a reputation for giving parties that are different
and are fun and this year's promises to follow in this fine tradition.
Mrs& H& J& Grinsfelder is chairman. The Louisiana
city is known, of course, for its fine food, good music and its colorful
hospitality "and,
when guests arrive at Philmont that night",
says Mrs& Grinsfelder, "that is exactly what we expect to offer
them. We've been working for weeks. The prospects look great.
We are keeping a number of surprises under our hats. But we can't
tell it all now and then have no new excitement later".

#BASIN STREET
BEAT#

But she does indicate festivities will start early, that

a jazz combo will "give with the Basin Street beat" during the
cocktail and dinner hours and that Lester Lanin's orchestra will take
over during the dancing. As for food, Mrs& Henry Louchheim,
chairman of this phase,
is a globetrotter who knows good food. "New
Orleans"? she says, "of course I've had the best. It
is just bad luck that we are having the party in a month with no ~R's,
so no oysters. But we have lots of other New Orleans specialties.
I know they will be good. We've tried them out on the club chef-
or say, he has tried them out on us and we have selected the best".

#SCENIC EFFECTS#

Guests will be treated to Gulf Coast scenic

effects. There will be masses of flowers, reproductions of the
handsome old buildings with their grillwork and other things that are
typical of New Orleans. Mrs& Harry K& Cohen is chairman of this
phase and she is getting an artistic assist from A& Van Hollander,
display director of Gimbel Brothers. The gala is the Thrift
Shop's annual bundle party and, as all Thrift Shop friends
know, that means the admission is a bundle of used clothing in good condition,
contributions of household equipment, bric-a-brac and such to
stock the shelves at the shop's headquarters at 1213 Walnut St&.

#BUNDLE CENTERS#

For the convenience of guests bundle centers

have been established throughout the city and suburbs where the donations
may be deposited between now and the date of the big event. In addition
to the bundles, guests pay the cost of their dinners. Members
of the young set who would like to come to the party only during the dancing
time are welcomed. The Thrift Shop, with Mrs& Bernhard
S& Blumenthal as president, is one of the city's most successful
fund-raisers for the Federation of Jewish Agencies. Some idea
of the competence of the women is indicated in the contribution made
by them during the past 25 years that totals $840,000.

#IT'S BIG
BUSINESS#

"Big business, this little Thrift Shop business",

say the members. For most of the 25 years the operation was under feminine
direction. In the past few years the men, mostly husbands of members,
have taken an interest. Louis Glazer is chairman of the men's
committee that, among other jobs, takes over part of the responsibility
for staffing the shop during its evening hours. Mrs& Theodore
Kapnek is vice chairman of the committee for the gala. Mrs&
Richard Newburger is chairman of hostesses. Mrs& Arthur
Loeb is making arrangements for a reception; Mrs& Joan Lichtenstein,
for publicity; Mrs& Harry M& Rose, Jr&, for secretarial
duties; Mrs& Ralph Taussig, for junior aides; Mr& and
Mrs& B& Lewis Kaufnabb, for senior aides, and Mrs& Samuel
P& Weinberg, for the bundles. In addition, Mr& and Mrs&
Allan Goodman are controllers, Mrs& Paul Stone is treasurer
and Mrs& Albert Quell is in charge of admittance for the dancing
at 9 P& M&. Besides the bundle centers where contributions
may be made there will be facilities at Philmont Country Club
for those who would like to bring the bundles on the night of the party.

The women's committee of St& David's Church will hold

its annual pre-Fair pink parade, a dessert bridge and fashion show at
1 P& M& on Monday, April 17, in the chapel assembly room, Wayne.

Mrs& Robert O& Spurdle is chairman of the committee,

which includes Mrs& James A& Moody, Mrs& Frank C& Wilkinson,
Mrs& Ethel Coles, Mrs& Harold G& Lacy, Mrs&
Albert W& Terry, Mrs& Henry M& Chance, 2d, Mrs& Robert
O& Spurdle, Jr&, Mrs& Harcourt N& Trimble, Jr&, Mrs&
John A& Moller, Mrs& Robert Zeising, Mrs& William
G& Kilhour, Mrs& Hughes Cauffman, Mrs& John L& Baringer
and Mrs& Clyde Newman. The fashion show, by Natalie
Collett will have Mrs& John Newbold as commentator. Models will
be Mrs& Samuel B& D& Baird, Mrs& William H& Meyle,
Jr&, Mrs& Richard W& Hole, Mrs& William F& Harrity,
Mrs& Robert O& Spurdle, Mrs& E& H& Kloman, Mrs&
Robert W& Wolcott, Jr&,
Mrs& Frederick C& Wheeler, Jr&,
Mrs& William ~A Boyd, ~Mrs F& Vernon Putt.

Col& Clifton Lisle, of Chester Springs, who headed the Troop

Committee for much of its second and third decades, is now an honorary
member. Each year he invites the boys to camp out on his estate
for one of their big week ends of the year. The Troop is proud
of its camping-out program- on year-round schedule and was continued
even when sub-zero temperatures were registered during the past
winter. "We worry", say the mothers. "But there never is
any need. The boys love it". Mrs& John Charles Cotty
is chairman of publicity for the country fair and Mrs& Francis G&
Felske and Mrs& Francis Smythe, of posters. They all are of
Wayne.

"Meet the Artist" is the invitation issued by members of

the Greater Philadelphia Section of the National Council of Jewish
Women as they arrange for an annual exhibit and sale of paintings
and sculpture at the Philmont Country Club on April 8 and 9.

A preview party for sponsors of the event and for the artists is set
for April 8. The event will be open to the public the following day.
Proceeds will be used by the section to further its program in science,
education and social action on local, national and international
levels.

#NOTED ARTIST#

Mrs& Monte Tyson, chairman, says the

work of 100 artists well known in the Delaware Valley area will be
included in the exhibition and sale. Among them will be Marc Shoettle,
Ben Shahn, Nicholas Marsicano, Alfred Van Loen and Milton
Avery. Mr& Shoettle has agreed to do a portrait of the family of
the person who wins the door prize. The event is the sixth on
the annual calendar of the local members of the National Council of
Jewish Women. It originated with the Wissahickon Section. When this
and other units combined to form the present group, it was taken on
as a continuing fund-raiser.

#OTHERS ASSISTING#

Mrs& Jerome
Blum and Mrs& Meyer Schultz are co-chairmen this year. Assisting
as chairmen of various committees are Mrs& Alvin Blum, Mrs&
Leonard Malmud, Mrs& Edward Fernberger, Mrs& Robert Cushman.

Also Mrs& Berton Korman, Mrs& Morton Rosen, Mrs& Jacques

Zinman, Mrs& Evelyn Rosen, Mrs& Henry Schultz, Mr& and
Mrs& I& S& Kamens, Mrs& Jack Langsdorf, Mrs& Leonard
Liss, Mrs& Gordon Blumberg, Mrs& Oscar Bregman, Mrs&
Alfred Kershbaum and Mrs& Edward Sabol.

Dr& and Mrs& N& Volney Ludwick have had as guests Mr&
and Mrs& John J& Evans, Jr&, of "Kimbolton House",
Rockhall, Md&. Mrs& Edward App will entertain the
members of her Book Club on Tuesday. Mrs& A& Voorhees
Anderson entertained at a luncheon at her home, on Monday. Mr& and
Mrs& Anderson were entertained at dinner on Sunday by Mr& and
Mrs& Frank Coulson, of Fairless Hills. Mr& and Mrs&
Major Morris and their son-in-law and daughter, Mr& and Mrs&
Thomas Glennon, and their children will spend several days in Brigantine,
N& J&. Mr& and Mrs& James Janssen announce
the birth of a daughter, Patricia Lynn Janssen, on March 2.

Mr& and Mrs& Charles Marella announce the engagement of

their daughter, Miss Mary Ann Marella, to Mr& Robert L& Orcutt,
son of Mr& and Mrs& Donald R& Orcutt, of Drexel Hill.

Miss Eileen Grant is spending several weeks visiting in Florida.

Mr& and Mrs& Frederick Heinze are entertaining Mr& Walter

Lehner, of Vienna; Mr& Ingo Dussa, of Dusseldorf, Germany,
and Mr& Bietnar Haaek, of Brelin. Mr& and Mrs&
Harry D& Hoaps, Jr& have returned to their home in Drexel
Park, after spending some time in Delray Beach Fla&. Mr&
and Mrs& James F& Mitchell, with their daughter, Anne, and
son, James, Jr& are spending several weeks in Florida, and will
visit in Clearwater. Cmdr& Warren Taylor, USN&, and
Mrs& Taylor, of E& Greenwich, R& I&, will have with them
for the Easter holidays the latter's parents, Mr& and Mrs& John
B& Walbridge, of Drexel Hill. Mr& and Mrs& L&
DeForest Emmert, formerly of Drexel Hill, and now of Newtown
Square, are entertaining Mr& and Mrs& Ashman E& Emmert, of
Temple, Pa&. Mrs& William H& Merner, of Drexel Park,
entertained at a luncheon at her home on Wednesday. Mr&
and Mrs& Robert Brown will return next week from Bermuda.

Mrs& H& E& Godwin will entertain the members of her Book
Club at her home on Tuesday.
DR& AND MRS& Richard Peter Vieth announce the engagement
of their daughter, Miss Susan Ann Vieth, to Mr& Conrad Wall /3,,
son of Dr& Conrad Wall /2,, and Mrs& Nell Kennedy Wall.
The marriage will be quietly celebrated in early February.

Miss Vieth was graduated from the Louise S& McGehee school
and is attending Wellesley college in Wellesley, Mass&. Her mother
is the former Miss Stella Hayward. Mr& Wall is a student
at Tulane university, where he is a member of Delta Kappa Epsilon
fraternity. @ Their Majesties, The Queen of Carnival
and The Queen of Comus, have jointly issued invitations for Shrove
Tuesday evening at midnight at which time they will entertain in the
grand ballroom of a downtown hotel following the balls of Rex and
Comus. @ Mr& and Mrs& Richard B& McConnell and their
son-in-law and daughter, Mr& and Mrs& Raymond B& Walker
will be hosts this Tuesday evening at dinner at the State st& home
of the Walkers honoring Mrs& McConnell's debutante niece, Miss
Barbara Williams. @ Debutante Miss Lady Helen Hardy
will be feted at luncheon this Tuesday at which the hostess will
be Mrs& Edwin Socola of Waveland, Miss&. She will entertain
at a Vieux Carre restaurant at 1 o'clock in the early afternoon. @

Another debutante, Miss Virginia Richmond, will also be

the honoree this Wednesday at luncheon at which Mrs& John Dane,
will be hostess entertaining at a downtown hotel. @ Miss Katherine
Vickery, who attends Sweet Briar college in Virginia, will rejoin
her father, Dr& Eugene Vickery, at the family home in Richmond
pl& Wednesday for part of the Carnival festivities. @ When
the Achaeans entertained Wednesday last at their annual Carnival
masquerade ball, Miss Margaret Pierson was chosen to rule over the
festivities, presented at the Muncipal Auditorium and chosen as her
ladies in waiting were Misses Clayton Nairne, Eleanor Eustis, Lynn
Chapman, Irwin Leatherman of Robinsonville, Miss& and Helene
Rowley. The large municipal hall was ablaze with color, which shown
out from the bright array of chic ballgowns worn by those participating
in the "maskers' dances". The mother of young queen,
Mrs& G& Henry Pierson Jr& chose a white brocade gown made
on slim lines with panels of tomato-red and bright green satin extending
down the back. Mrs& Thomas Jordan selected a black taffeta frock
made with a skirt of fringed tiers and worn with crimson silk slippers.
Mrs& Clayton Nairne, whose daughter, was among the court maids,
chose a deep greenish blue lace gown. Mrs& Fenwick Eustis, whose
daughter was also a maid to the queen, wore an ashes of roses slipper
satin gown. Mrs& Peter Feringa Jr&, last year's Achaeans'
queen, chose an eggshell white filmy lace short dress made with
a wide decolletage trimmed with an edging of tulle. Mrs& Eustis Reily's
olive-green
street length silk taffeta dress was embroidered on
the bodice with gold threads and golden sequins and beads.

The Baltimore and Ohio Railroad announced yesterday it would

reduce the total amount of its payroll by 10 per cent through salary
cuts and lay-offs effective at 12.01 A&M& next Saturday. The
current monthly payroll comes to about $15,000,000. Howard E&
Simpson, the railroad's president, said, "A drastic decline in
freight loading due principally to the severe slump in the movement
of heavy goods has necessitated this regrettable action". The
reduction in expenses will affect employees in the thirteen states in
which the B& + O& operates.

#SALARY CUT AND LAY-OFFS#

It
will be accomplished in two ways: _1._ A flat reduction of 10 per
cent in the salary of all officers, supervisors and other employees
not belonging to unions. There are about 3,325 officers and employees
in this class. _2._ Sufficient lay-offs of union employees to
bring about a 10 per cent cut in the union payroll expense. Since
the railroad cannot reduce the salary of individual union members
under contract, it must accomplish its payroll reduction by placing some
of the men on furlough, a B&+O& spokesman said. Those
union members kept on their jobs, therefore, will not take a cut in their
wages. The spokesman said the number to be furloughed cannot
be estimated since the lay-offs must be carried out in each area depending
on what men are most needed on the job.

A thug struck a cab driver in the face with a pistol last night
after robbing him of $18 at Franklin and Mount streets. The
victim, Norman B& Wiley, 38, of the 900 block North Charles street,
was treated for cuts at Franklin Square Hospital after the robbery.

The driver told police he followed as the Negro man got

out of the cab with his money. The victim was beaten when he attempted
to stop the bandit. He said the assailant, who was armed
with a .45-caliber automatic, entered the taxi at Pennsylvania avenue
and Gold street. In another attack, Samuel Verstandig, 41,
proprietor of a food store in the 2100 block Aiken street, told police
two Negroes assaulted him in his store and stole $150 from the cash
register after choking and beating him.

A baby was burned to death and two other children were seriously
injured last night in a fire which damaged their one-room Anne Arundel
county home. The victim Darnell Somerville, Negro, 1,
was pronounced dead on arrival at Anne Arundel General Hospital
in Annapolis. His sister and brother, Marie Louise, 3, and
John Raymond, Jr& 22 months, were admitted to the hospital. The
girl was in critical condition with burns over 90 per cent of her body.

#BOY IN FAIR CONDITION#

The boy received second-degree burns of

the face, neck and back. His condition was reported to be fair.

Police said the children's mother, Mrs& Eleanor Somerville,

was visiting next door when the fire occurred. The house is
on Old Annapolis road a mile south of Severna Park, at Jones Station,
police said.

_ANNAPOLIS, JAN& 7_- The Anne Arundel county school superintendent

has asked that the Board of Education return to the practice
of recording its proceedings mechanically so that there will be no more
question about who said what. The proposal was made by Dr&
David S& Jenkins after he and Mrs& D& Ellwood Williams,
Jr&,
a board member and long-time critic of the superintendent, argued
for about fifteen minutes at this week's meeting. The disagreement
was over what Dr& Jenkins had said at a previous session
and how his remarks appeared in the minutes presented at the following
meeting.

#CITES DISCREPANCIES#

Mrs& Williams had a list which

she said contained about nine or ten discrepancies between her memory
of Dr& Jenkins's conversation and how they were written up for
the board's approval. "I hate to have these things come
up again and again", Dr& Jenkins commented as he made his suggestion.
"These are the board's minutes. I'll write what you tell
me to". For a number of years the board used a machine to
keep a permanent record but abandoned the practice about two years ago.

It was about that time, a board member said later, that Dr&
Thomas G& Pullen, Jr&,
State superintendent of schools, told
Dr& Jenkins and a number of other education officials that he would
not talk to them with a recording machine sitting in front of him.

The Board of County Commissioners, the Sanitary Commission,

the Planning and Zoning Board and other county official bodies
use recording machines for all public business in order to prevent law
suits and other misunderstandings about what actually happened at their
meetings. Dr& Jenkins notes, however, that most of the
school boards in the State do not do so.

State Senator Joseph A& Bertorelli (D&, First Baltimore)

had a stroke yesterday while in his automobile in the 200 block
of West Pratt street. He was taken to University Hospital
in a municipal ambulance. Doctors at the hospital said he was
partially paralyzed on the right side. His condition was said to be,
"fair". Police said he became ill while parked in front of
a barber shop at 229 West Pratt street.

#BARBER SUMMONED#

He called
Vincent L& Piraro, proprietor of the shop, who summoned police
and an ambulance.

The vice president of the City Council complained yesterday

that there are "deficiencies" in the city's snow clearing program
which should be corrected as soon as possible. Councilman William
D& Schaefer (D&, Fifth) said in a letter to Mayor Grady
that plowing and salting crews should be dispatched earlier in storms
and should be kept on the job longer than they were last month.

#WERNER
CRITICIZED#

Conceding that several cities to the north were

in worse shape than Baltimore after the last storm, Mr& Schaefer
listed several improvements he said should be made in the snow plan here.

He said the snow plan was put in effect too slowly in December.
Equipment should be in operation "almost immediately after the
first snowfall", Mr& Schaefer said. The Councilman,
who is the Administration floor leader, also criticized Bernard L&
Werner, public works director, for "halting snow operations" on
Tuesday night after the Sunday storm.

#SENT HOME FOR REST#

Mr&
Werner said yesterday that operations continued through the week.
What he did, Mr& Werner said, was let manual laborers go home Tuesday
night for some rest. Work resumed Wednesday, he said.
Mr& Schaefer also recommended that the snow emergency route plan,
under which parking is banned on key streets and cars are required to
use snow tires or chains on them, should be "strictly enforced".

Admitting that main streets and the central business district

should have priority, the Councilman said it is also essential that
small shopping areas "not be overlooked **h if our small merchants are
to survive". Recounting personal observations of clearance
work, the Councilman cited instances of inefficient use of equipment
or supplies by poorly trained workers and urged that plow blades be
set so they do not leave behind a thin layer of snow which eventually
freezes.

_ANNAPOLIS, JAN& 7 (SPECIAL)_- The 15-year-old adopted son of

a Washington attorney and his wife, who were murdered early today in
their Chesapeake Bay-front home, has been sent to Spring Grove State
Hospital for detention. The victims were H& Malone Dresbach,
47, and his wife, Shirley, 46. Each had been shot in the back
several times with a .22-caliber automatic rifle, according to Capt&
Elmer Hagner, chief of Anne Arundel detectives. Judge
Benjamin Michaelson signed the order remanding the boy to the hospital
because of the lack of juvenile accommodations at the Anne Arundel
County Jail. The Circuit Court jurist said the boy will have
a hearing in Juvenile Court.

#YOUNGER SON CALLS POLICE#

Soon after 10 A&M&, when police reached the 1-1/2-story brick

home
in the Franklin Manor section, 15 miles south of here on the bay, in
response to a call from the Dresbach's other son, Lee, 14, they
found Mrs& Dresbach's body on the first-floor bedroom floor. Her
husband was lying on the kitchen floor, police said. The younger
son told police his brother had run from the house after the shootings
and had driven away in their mother's car. The description
of the car was immediately broadcast throughout Southern Maryland
on police radio.

#TWO BROTHERS ADOPTED#

Police said the boys

are natural brothers and were adopted as small children by the Dresbachs.

Trooper J& A& Grzesiak spotted the wanted car,

with
three boys, at a Route 2 service station, just outside Annapolis. The
driver admitted he was the Dresbachs' son and all three were taken
to the Edgewater Station, police said.

_ANNAPOLIS, JAN& 7_- Governor Tawes today appointed Lloyd L&

Simpkins, his administrative assistant, as Maryland's Secretary
of State. Mr& Simpkins will move into the post being vacated
by Thomas B& Finan, earlier named attorney general to succeed
C& Ferdinand Sybert, who will be elevated to an associate judgeship
on the Maryland Court of Appeals. Governor Tawes announced
that a triple swearing-in ceremony will be held in his office
next Friday.

#SIMPKINS FROM SOMERSET#

Mr& Simpkins is a resident

of Somerset county, and he and the Governor, also a Somerset countian,
have been friends since Mr& Simpkins was a child. Now
38, Mr& Simpkins was graduated from the University of Maryland's
College of Agriculture in 1947. Five years later, he
was awarded the university's degree in law. Mr& Simpkins
made a name for himself as a member of the House of Delegates from
1951 through 1958. From the outset of his first term, he established
himself as one of the guiding spirits of the House of Delegates.

MARYLAND contracts for future construction during October

totaled $77,389,000, up to 10 per cent compared to October, 1960, F&
W& Dodge, Dodge Corporation, reported. Dodge reported
the following breakdown: Nonresidential at $20,447,000, down
28 per cent; residential at $47,101,000, up 100 per cent; and
heavy engineering at $9,841,000, down 45 per cent. The cumulative
total of construction contracts for the first ten months of 1961 amounted
to $634,517,000, a 4 per cent increase compared to the corresponding
period of last year. A breakdown of the ten-month total
showed: Nonresidential at $253,355,000, up 22 per cent; residential
at $278,877,000, up 12 per cent; and heavy engineering at
$102,285,000, down 33 per cent. Residential building consists
of houses, apartments, hotels, dormitories and other buildings designed
for shelter.

The share of the new housing market enjoyed by apartments, which

began about six years ago, has more than tripled within that span of
time. In 1961, it is estimated that multiple unit dwellings
will account for nearly 30 per cent of the starts in residential construction.

While availability of mortgage money has been a factor

in encouraging apartment construction, the generally high level of
prosperity in the past few years plus rising consumer income are among
the factors that have encouraged builders to concentrate in the
apartment-building
field. Although economic and personal circumstances
vary widely among those now choosing apartments, Leo J& Pantas,
vice president of a hardware manufacturing company, pointed out recently
that many apartment seekers seem to have one characteristic in common:
a desire for greater convenience and freedom from the problems
involved in maintaining a house.

#CONVENIENCE HELD KEY#

"Convenience
is therefore the key to the housing market today. Trouble-free,
long-life, quality components will play an increasingly important
part in the merchandising of new housing in 1960", Pantas
predicted.

SIXTY-SEVEN living units are being added to the 165-unit

Harbor View Apartments in the Cherry Hill section. Ultimately
the development will comprise 300 units, in two-story and three-story
structures. Various of the apartments are of the terrace type, being
on the ground floor so that entrance is direct. Others, which are
reached by walking up a single flight of stairs, have balconies.

The structures housing the apartments are of masonry and frame construction.
Heating is by individual gas-fired, forced warm air systems.

CONSTRUCTION in 1962 will account for about 15 per cent of

the gross national product, according to a study by Johns-Manville
Corporation.
_LONDON, FEB& 9_- Vital secrets of Britain's first atomic
submarine, the Dreadnought, and, by implication, of the entire United
States navy's still-building nuclear sub fleet, were stolen by a
London-based soviet spy ring, secret service agents testified today.

The Dreadnought was built on designs supplied by the United

States in 1959 and was launched last year. It is a killer sub- that
is, a hunter of enemy subs. It has a hull patterned on that of the
United States navy's Nautilus, the world's first atomic submarine.
Its power unit, however, was derived from the reactor of the more
modern American nuclear submarine Skipjack.

#FIVE HELD FOR TRIAL#

The announcement that the secrets of the Dreadnought had been stolen
was made in Bow st& police court here at the end of a three day
hearing. A full trial was ordered for: Two British civil
servants, Miss Ethel Gee, 46, and her newly devoted friend, Harry
Houghton, 55, and divorced. They are accused of whisking secrets out
of naval strongrooms over which they kept guard. Gordon A&
Lonsdale, 37, a mystery man presumed to be Russian altho he carries
a Canadian passport. When arrested, he had the submarine secrets
on a roll of candid camera film as well as anti-submarine secrets in
Christmas gift wrapping, it was testified.

#FLASHED TO MOSCOW#

A
shadowy couple who call themselves Peter Kroger, bookseller, and wife,
Joyce. [<In Washington, the Federal Bureau of Investigation
identified the Krogers as Morris and Lola Cohen, an American
couple formerly of New York City>.] In their suburban
cottage the crown charges, the Krogers received secrets from the mystery
man, usually on the first Saturday evening of each month, and
spent much of the week-end getting the secrets off to Moscow, either
on a powerful transmitter buried under the kitchen floor or as dots posted
over period marks in used books. Each dot on magnification resumed
its original condition as a drawing, a printed page, or a manuscript.

All five pleaded innocent. Only Miss Gee asked for bail.
Her young British lawyer, James Dunlop, pleaded that she was sorely
needed at her Portland home by her widowed mother, 80, her maiden
aunt, also 80 and bedridden for 20 years, and her uncle, 76, who once
ran a candy shop.

#REFUSES TO GRANT BAIL#

"I am not prepared to

grant bail to any of them", said the magistrate, K&J&P& Baraclough.

The trial will be held, probably the first week of

March, in the famous Old Bailey central criminal court where Klaus
Fuchs, the naturalized British German born scientist who succeeded
in giving American and British atomic bomb secrets to Russia and
thereby changed world history during the 1950s, was sentenced to 14 years
in prison. Fourteen years is the maximum penalty now faced
by the new five, who may have altered history in the 1960s. Fuchs,
after nine and a half years, was released, being given time off for good
behavior. He promptly went to communist East Germany. The
magistrate tonight refused to return to the five $29,000 in American
and British currency, mostly $20 bills, and in British government
bonds and stocks. "This is Russian money", said Mervin Griffith-Jones
for the attorney general's office. He asserted that
the Krogers were the bankers for Moscow, Lonsdale the Red paymaster,
and the two civil servants the recipients for selling their country's
secrets. #"OF HIGHEST VALUE"#

The fact that secrets of

the Dreadnought, and thereby of the American undersea fleet, were involved
in the spy case had been hinted at earlier. But just before
luncheon today the fact was announced grimly by the British navy's
chief adviser to the cabinet on underwater warfare, Capt& George
Symonds. He said that drawings of the Dreadnought and printed
details about the ship were found reproduced in an undeveloped roll of
film taken from Lonsdale when he was arrested with the two civil servants
outside the Old Vic theater Saturday afternoon, Jan& 7.

The information, he said, would have been of the highest value to

a potential enemy.

#COURT CLEARED#

Just how many sub secrets were

being handed over when the ring, watched for six months, was broken
remained untold. The British defending lawyers, who today increased
from three to four, demanded to know if they could make the information
involved seem of little value to a jury, the chances of their
clients would improve. So in the name of justice the magistrate cleared
the court of all except officials to allow the captain to elaborate
for almost an hour. Almost any information about the Dreadnought
would also reveal secrets about the American underwater fleet.
Britain began designing the ship in 1956 but got nowhere until the American
government decided to end a ban on sharing military secrets with
Britain that had been imposed after Fuchs blabbed. The United
States offered to supply a complete set of propelling equipment like
that used in the Skipjack. With the machinery went a complete
design for the hull. The Skipjack was a second generation
atomic sub, much advanced on the Nautilus and the other four which preceded
it.

#NAVY'S FUTURE INVOLVED#

"Much of the navy's future

depends upon her", an American naval announcement said on the
Skipjack's first arrival in British waters in August, 1959, for exhibition
to selected high officers at Portland underwater research station.
It was there that the two accused civil servants were at work.

"Her basic hull form [a teardrop] and her nuclear power

plant will be used for almost all new submarines, including the potent
Polaris missile submarines", the statement went on. The atom
reactor, water cooled, was the result of almost a decade of research
at the naval reactors branch of the atomic energy commission and Westinghouse
Electric Corp&. Thru development, the reactor and its
steam turbines had been reduced greatly in size, and also in complexity,
allowing a single propeller to be used, the navy said. The
hull was also a result of almost a decade of work. It was first tried
out on a conventional submarine, the Albacore, in 1954. The
Skipjack became the fastest submarine ever built. Reputedly it could
outrun, underwater, the fastest destroyers. It could, reputedly, go
70,000 miles without refueling and stay down more than a month.
It was of the hunter-killer type, designed to seek out ships and other
submarines with its most advance gear and destroy them with torpedoes.

The navy captain disclosed also that a list of questions found

in Miss Gee's purse would, if completed and handed back, have
given the Kremlin a complete picture "of our current anti-submarine
effort and would have shown what we are doing in research and development
for the future".

#INTERESTED IN DETECTOR#

The spy ring also

was particularly interested in ~ASDIC, the underwater equipment
for detecting submarines, it was testified. Range was a vital detail.
Designs of parts were sought. Six radiomen told how, twice
on two days after the ring was nabbed, a transmitter near Moscow was
heard calling, using signals, times and wavelengths specified on codes
found hidden in cigaret lighters in Lonsdale's apartment and the
Krogers' house and also fastened to the transmitter lid. Oddly,
the calls were still heard 11 days after the five were arrested.

The charge that the federal indictment of three Chicago narcotics

detail detectives "is the product of rumor, combined with malice,
and individual enmity" on the part of the federal narcotics unit here
was made yesterday in their conspiracy trial before Judge Joseph
Sam Perry in federal District court. The three- Miles J&
Cooperman, Sheldon Teller, and Richard Austin- and eight other
defendants are charged in six indictments with conspiracy to violate
federal narcotic laws. In his opening statement to a jury
of eight women and four men, Bernard H& Sokol, attorney for the detectives,
said that evidence would show that his clients were "entirely
innocent". #'HAD TO KNOW PEDDLERS'#

"When they became

members of the city police narcotics unit", Sokol said, "they were
told they would have to get to know certain areas of Chicago in which
narcotics were sold and they would have to get to know people in
the narcotics racket. They, on occasion, posed as addicts and peddlers".

Altho federal and city narcotic agents sometimes worked

together, Sokol continued,
rivalries developed when they were "aiming
at the same criminals". This, he added, brought about "petty jealousies"
and "petty personal grievances". "In the same
five year period that the United States says they [the detectives]
were engaged in this conspiracy", Sokol continued, "these three
young men received a total of 26 creditable mentions and many special
compensations, and were nominated for the Lambert Tree award and the
mayor's medal".

#NO COMMENTS BY U&S&#

In opening, D&
Arthur Connelly, assistant United States attorney, read the indictment,
but made no comments. Attorneys for the eight other defendants
said only that there was no proof of their clients' guilt.
Cooperman and Teller are accused of selling $4,700 worth of heroin
to a convicted narcotics peddler, Otis Sears, 45, of 6934 Indiana av&.
Among other acts, Teller and Austin are accused of paying $800
to Sears. The first witness, Moses Winston Mardis, 5835
Michigan av&, a real estate agent and former bail bondsman, took the
stand after opening statements had been made. But court adjourned after
he testified he introduced James White and Jeremiah Hope Pullings,
two of the defendants, and also introduced Pullings to Jessy
Maroy, a man mentioned in the indictment but not indicted.

Buaford Robinson, 23, of 7026 Stewart av&, a ~CTA bus

driver, was slugged and robbed last night by a group of youths at 51st
street and South Park way. Robinson was treated at a physician's
office for a cut over his left eyebrow and a possible sprained knee.
His losses included his money bag, containing $40 to $50 and his $214
paycheck. Robinson told Policemen James Jones and Morgan
Lloyd of the Wabash avenue district that 10 youths boarded his south
bound express bus in front of Dunbar Vocational High school, 30th
street and South Park way, and began "skylarking". When
51st street was reached, Robinson related, he stopped the bus and told
the youths he was going to call the ~CTA supervisor. As he left
the bus with his money bag, Robinson added, the largest youth accosted
him, a quarrel ensued, and the youth knocked him down. Then the
youths fled with his money.

Mrs& Blanche Dunkel, 60, who has spent 25 years in the Dwight
reformatory for women for the murder in 1935 of her son-in-law, Ervin
Lang, then 28, appealed for a parole at a hearing yesterday before
two Illinois pardon and parole board members, John M& Bookwalter
and Joseph Carpentier. She had been sentenced to 180 years in
prison, but former Gov& Stratton commuted her term to 75 years, making
her eligible for parole, as one of his last acts in office.

Mrs& Dunkel admitted the slaying and said that the son-in-law became
her lover after the death of her daughter in 1934. It was when he
attempted to end the relationship that the murder took place.

The son of a wealthy Evanston executive was fined $100 yesterday

and forbidden to drive for 60 days for leading an Evanston policeman
on a high speed chase over icy Evanston and Wilmette streets Jan&
20. The defendant, William L& Stickney /3, 23, of
3211 Park pl&, Evanston, who pleaded guilty to reckless driving, also
was ordered by Judge James Corcoran to attend the Evanston traffic
school each Tuesday night for one month. Stickney is a salesman
for Plee-Zing, Inc&, 2544 Green Bay rd&, Evanston, a
food brokerage and grocery chain firm, of which his father, William L&
Jr&, is president. Patrolman James F& Simms said
he started in pursuit when he saw young Stickney speeding north in Stewart
avenue at Central street. At Jenks street, Simms said,
the car skidded completely around, just missed two parked cars, and
sped east in Jenks. The car spun around again, Simms said,
before Stickney could turn north in Prairie avenue, and then violated
two stop lights as he traveled north into Wilmette in Prairie.

_ST& JOHNS, MICH&, APRIL 19._- A jury of seven men and five
women found 21-year-old Richard Pohl guilty of manslaughter yesterday
in the bludgeon slaying of Mrs& Anna Hengesbach. Pohl
received the verdict without visible emotion. He returned to his cell
in the county jail, where he has been held since his arrest last July,
without a word to his court-appointed attorney, Jack Walker, or his
guard.

#STEPSON VINDICATED#

The verdict brought vindication to

the dead woman's stepson, Vincent Hengesbach, 54, who was tried
for the same crime in December, 1958, and released when the jury failed
to reach a verdict. Mrs& Hengesbach was killed on Aug& 31, 1958.

Hengesbach has been living under a cloud ever since. When

the verdict came in against his young neighbor, Hengesbach said:

"I am very pleased to have the doubt of suspicion removed. Still,

I don't wish to appear happy at somebody's else's misfortune".

#LIVES ON WELFARE#

Hengesbach, who has been living on welfare

recently, said he hopes to rebuild the farm which was settled by
his grandfather in Westphalia, 27 miles southwest of here. Hengesbach
has been living in Grand Ledge since his house and barn were
burned down after his release in 1958. Pohl confessed the
arson while being questioned about several fires in the Westphalia area
by State Police. He also admitted killing Mrs& Hengesbach.
However, the confession, which was the only evidence against him,
was retracted before the trial.

#CHARGES IN DOUBT#

Assistant Prosecutor
Fred Lewis, who tried both the Hengesbach and Pohl cases,
said he did not know what would be done about two arson charges pending
against Pohl. Circuit Judge Paul R& Cash did not set
a date for sentencing. Pohl could receive from 1 to 15 years in prison
or probation. Walker said he was considering filing a motion
for a new trial which would contend that the verdict was against the
weight of the evidence and that there were several errors in trial
procedure.

#LOCKED IN MOTEL#

A verdict against Pohl came at 4:05

p&m& after almost 13-1/2 hours of deliberation. The jury, which
was locked up in a motel overnight, was canvassed at the request of
Walker after the verdict was announced. The jury foreman, Mrs&
Olive Heideman, of rural Elsie, said that a ballot was not even
taken until yesterday morning and that the first day of deliberation
was spent in going over the evidence. She said the jurors agreed
that Pohl's confession was valid. The jury asked Judge
Cash to send in his written definition of the difference between first
and second-degree murder and manslaughter. The verdict came
three hours later. Some 30 spectators remained in the court during
the day and were on hand to hear the verdict read. The trial had
packed the large courtroom for more than a week.

A Sterling Township family of six surviving children, whose

mother died yesterday as the aftermath to a fire that also killed one
of the children, found today they had the help of hundreds of neighbors
and school friends. While neighbor women assumed some of the
dead mother's duties, fund-raising events were being planned by a homeowners
association and a student council for the hard-hit Henry Kowalski
family, 34220 Viceroy. Mrs& Eleanor Kowalski, 42,
died yesterday afternoon in Holy Cross Hospital of burns suffered
in a fire that followed a bottled gas explosion Saturday night at the
flat of her widowed mother, Mrs& Mary Pankowski, in the adjoining
suburb of Warren.

#SERVICES TOMORROW#

Funeral services for Mrs&

Kowalski and her daughter, Christine, 11, who died of burns at
the same hospital Monday, have been scheduled for 10 a&m& tomorrow
in St& Anne's Catholic Church, 31978 Mound, in Warren.

The
mother and daughter, who will be buried side by side in Mt& Olivet
Cemetery, rested together today in closed caskets at the Lyle Elliott
Funeral Home, 31730 Mound, Warren. Mrs& Pankowski,
61, remained in Holy Cross Hospital as a result of the explosion,
which occurred while Mrs& Kowalski fueled a cook stove in the grandmother's
small upstairs flat at 2274 Eight Mile road east.

#HELD
CANDLE#

Assistant Fire Chief Chester Cornell said gas fumes

apparently were ignited by a candle which one of the three Kowalski
girls present held for her mother, because the flat lacked electricity.

Christine's twin sister, Patricia, and Darlene Kowalski,

8, escaped with minor burns. They are home now with the other Kowalski
children, Vicky, 14; Dennis, 6; Eleanor, 2; and Bernardine,
1. "All we have left in the world is one another, and we
must stay together the way Mother wanted", Kowalski said in telling
his children of their mother's death yesterday afternoon.
Kowalski, a roofer who seldom worked last winter, already was in arrears
on their recently purchased split-level home when the tragedy staggered
him with medical and funeral bills. #$135 DONATED#

Neighbor
women, such as Mrs& Sidney Baker, 2269 Serra, Sterling Township,
have been supplying the family with meals and handling household chores
with Kowalski's sister-in-law, Mrs& Anna Kowalski, 22111
David, East Detroit. Another neighbor, Mrs& Frank C&
Smith, 2731 Pall Mall, Sterling Township, surprised Kowalski by
coming to the home yesterday with $135 collected locally toward the
$400 funeral costs. John C& Houghton, president of the Tareytown
Acres Homeowners Association, followed that by announcing plans
last night for a door-to-door fund drive throughout their subdivision
on behalf of the Kowalski family.

#STUDENTS HELP OUT#

Houghton
said 6 p&m& Friday had been set for a canvass of all 480 homes
in the subdivision, which is located northeast of Dequindre and 14
Mile road east. He said contributions also could be mailed to Post
Office Box 553, Warren Village Station. Vicky Kowalski
meanwhile learned that several of her fellow students had collected almost
$25 for her family during the lunch hour yesterday at Fuhrmann Junior
High School, 5155 Fourteen Mile road east. Principal
Clayton W& Pohly said he would allow a further collection between
classes today, and revealed that ~Y-Teen Club past surpluses had
been used to provide a private hospital nurse Monday for Mrs& Kowalski.

#FUNDS FROM DANCES#

Student Council officers announced

today the Kowalski family would be given the combined proceeds from
a school dance held two weeks ago, and another dance for Fuhrmann's
770 students this Friday night. "Furhmann's faculty is proud
that this has been a spontaneous effort, started largely among the
students themselves, because of fondness for Vicky and sympathy for
her entire family, Pohly said. There also were reports of a
collection at the County Line Elementary School, 3505o Dequindre,
which has been attended this year by four of the Kowalski children including
Christine.

#EXPRESSES THANKS#

Kowalski has spoken but

little since the fire last Saturday. But today he wanted to make a public
statement. "I never knew there were such neighbors and
friends around me and my family. I wasn't sure there were such people
anywhere in the world. I'll need more than a single day to find
the words to properly express my thanks to them".

An alert 10-year-old safety patrol boy was congratulated by police

today for his part in obtaining a reckless driving conviction against
a youthful motorist. Patrolman George Kimmell, of McClellan
Station, said he would recommend a special safety citation for
Ralph Sisk, 9230 Vernor east, a third grader at the Scripps School,
for his assistance in the case. Kimmell said he and Ralph
were helping children across Belvidere at Kercheval Monday afternoon
when a car heading north on Belvidere stopped belatedly inside the
pedestrian crosswalk.

#GETS CAR NUMBER#

Kimmell ordered the driver

to back up, watched the children safely across and was approaching
the car when it suddenly "took off at high speed", he said, narrowly
missing him. Commandeering a passing car, Kimmell pursued
the fleeing vehicle, but lost it in traffic. Returning to the school
crossing, the officer was informed by the Sisk boy that he recognized
the driver, a neighbor, and had obtained the license number. The
motorist later was identified as Richard Sarkees, 17, of 2433 McClellan,
currently on probation and under court order not to drive.

#GIVEN 15 DAYS#

He was found guilty of reckless driving yesterday

by Traffic Judge George T& Murphy, who continued his no-driving
probation for another year and ordered him to spend 15 days in the Detroit
House of Correction. The jail sentence is to begin the day
after Sarkees graduates from Eastern High School in June.
The long crisis in Laos appeared nearing a showdown today.

Britain announced that it is asking the Soviet Union to agree

tomorrow to an immediate cease-fire.

#HELP ASKED#

In Vientiane,
the royal Laotian government decided today to ask its "friends and
neighbors" for help in fighting what it called a new rebel offensive
threatening the southeast Asian kingdom. Britain's plans
to press Russia for a definite cease-fire timetable was announced in
London by Foreign Secretary Lord Home. He said Britain also
proposed that the international truce commission should be reconvened,
sent to New Delhi and from there to Laos to verify the cease-fire.

A 14-power conference on Laos should then meet on May 5,

he said.

#PLEA FOR ARMS#

The Laos government plea for help was

made by Foreign Minister Tiao Sopsaisana. He indicated that requests
would be made for more U&S& arms and more U&S& military
advisers. He declared the government is thinking of asking
for foreign troops if the situation worsens. One of the first
moves made after a cabinet decision was to request the United States
to establish a full-fledged military assistance group instead of the
current civilian body. A note making the request was handed to
U&S& Ambassador Winthrop G& Brown.

#HEAVY SUPPORT#

The
Laos government said four major Pathet Lao rebel attacks had been
launched, heavily supported by troops from Communist North Viet Nam.

The minister, describing the attacks which led up to the

appeal, said that 60,000 Communist North Vietnamese were fighting royal
army troops on one front- near Thakhek, in southern-central Laos.

There was no confirmation of such massive assaults from independent

sources. In the past such government claims have been found
exaggerated.

_HAVANA, APRIL 19._- Two Americans and seven Cubans were executed
by firing squads today as Castro military tribunals began decreeing
the death penalty for captured invasion forces and suspected collaborators.

A Havana radio broadcast identified the Americans

as Howard Anderson and August Jack McNair. The executions
took place at dawn only a few hours after Havana radio announced their
conviction by a revolutionary tribunal at Pinar del Rio, where the
executions took place.

#ARMS PLOT CHARGED#

The broadcast said

Anderson, a Seattle ex-marine and Havana businessman, and McNair,
of Miami, were condemned on charges of smuggling arms to Cuban rebels.

Anderson operated three Havana automobile service stations

and was commander of the Havana American Legion post before it disbanded
since the start of Fidel Castro's regime. Anderson's
wife and four children live in Miami. McNair, 25, was seized
March 20 with four Cubans and accused of trying to land a boatload
of rifles in Pinar del Rio, about 35 miles from Havana.

#REPORT
OTHERS HELD#

At least 20 other Americans were reported to have

been arrested in a mass political roundup. Among them were a
number of newsmen, including Henry Raymont, of United Press International,
and Robert Berrellez, of Associated Press. So many
Cubans were reported being swept into the Castro dragnet that the
massive Sports Palace auditorium and at least one hotel were converted
into makeshift jails. More than 1,000 were said to have been arrested-
100 of them Roman Catholic priests.

Of the millions who have served time in concentration camps in

Siberia as political prisoners of the Soviet state, few emerge in the
West to tell about it. M& Kegham- the name is a pseudynom-
was a teacher in Bucharest and a member of the Armenian Revolutionary
Federation (~ARF)- two reasons the Communists put
him
away when they arrived in 1945. Today, M& Kegham was in Detroit,
en route to join his wife and children in California.

Emory University's Board of Trustees announced Friday that

it was prepared to accept students of any race as soon as the state's
tax laws made such a step possible. "Emory University's
charter and by-laws have never required admission or rejection of
students on the basis of race", board chairman Henry L& Bowden
stated. But an official statement adopted by the 33-man Emory
board at its annual meeting Friday noted that state taxing requirements
at present are a roadblock to accepting Negroes. The statement
explained that under the Georgia Constitution and state law,
tax-exempt status is granted to educational institutions only if they
are segregated. "Emory could not continue to operate according
to its present standards as an institution of higher learning, of
true university grade, and meet its financial obligations, without the
tax-exemption privileges which are available to it only so long as it
conforms to the aforementioned constitutional and statutory provisions",
the statement said. The statement did not mention what steps
might be taken to overcome the legal obstacles to desegregation.

An Emory spokesman indicated, however, that the university itself

did not intend to make any test of the laws. The Georgia
Constitution gives the Legislature the power to exempt colleges from
property taxation if, among other criteria, "all endowments to institutions
established for white people shall be limited to white people,
and all endowments to institutions established for colored people shall
be limited to colored people". At least two private colleges
in the Atlanta area now or in the past have had integrated student
bodies, but their tax-exempt status never has been challenged by the
state. Emory is affiliated with the Methodist Church. Some
church leaders, both clerical and lay, have criticized the university
for not taking the lead in desegregation.

#URGED IN 1954#

The student
newspaper, The Emory Wheel, as early as the fall of 1954 called
for desegregation. "From its beginning", the trustees'
statement said Friday, "Emory University has assumed as its primary
commitment a dedication to excellence in Christian higher learning.
Teaching, research and study, according to highest standards, under
Christian influence, are paramount in the Emory University policy.

"As a private institution, supported by generous individuals,

Emory University will recognize no obligation and will adopt no
policy that would conflict with its purpose to promote excellence in
scholarship and Christian education. "There is not now, nor
has there ever been in Emory University's charter or by-laws any
requirement that students be admitted or rejected on the basis of race,
color or creed. Insofar as its own governing documents are concerned,
Emory University could now consider applications from prospective
students, and others
seeking applications from prospective students,
and others seeking the opportunity to study or work at the university,
irrespective of race, color or creed.

#CORPORATE EXISTENCE#

"On
the other hand, Emory University derives its corporate existence from
the State of Georgia. **h "When and if it can do so without
jeopardizing constitutional and statutory tax-exemption privileges
essential to the maintenance of its educational program and facilities,
Emory University will consider applications of persons desiring
to study or work at the University without regard to race, color or
creed, continuing university policy that all applications shall be considered
on the basis of intellectual and moral standards and other criteria
designed to assure the orderly and effective conduct of the university
and the fulfillment of its mission as an institution of Christian
higher education".

A young man was killed and two others injured at midnight Friday
when the car they were riding slid into a utility pole on Lake Avenue
near Waddell Street, ~NE, police said. The dead youth
was identified as Robert E& Sims, 19, of 1688 Oak Knoll Cir&,
~SE. Patrolman G& E& Hammons said the car evidently
slid out of control on rain-slick streets and slammed into the
pole. The other occupants were James Willard Olvey, 18, of
963 Ponce de Leon Ave&, ~NE, and Larry Coleman Barnett, 19,
of 704 Hill St&, ~SE, both of whom were treated at Grady Hospital
for severe lacerations and bruises.

The Atlanta Negro student movement renewed its demands for movie
theater integration Friday and threatened picketing and "stand-ins"
if negotiations failed. The demands were set forth in
letters to seven owners of first-run theaters by the Committee on Appeal
for Human Rights. #'INTEND TO ATTEND'#

"We intend to
attend the downtown theaters before the first of the year", the identically
worded letters said. The letters set a Nov& 15 deadline
for the start of negotiations. They indicated that stand-ins and
picketing would be started if theater owners failed to cooperate.

Downtown and art theater managers and owners, contacted Friday

night for comment on the ~COAHR request, said they had no knowledge
of such a letter, and that it was not in the Friday mail. However,
three of the managers did say that they would agree to attend the
proposed meeting if all of the other managers decided to attend.

#GATHER
HERE#

The ~COAHR letter comes on the eve of a large gathering

of theater managers and owners scheduled to begin here Sunday.
Several theater operators said, however, that there is little likelihood
of the subject being discussed during the three-day affair.

Student leaders began sporadic efforts to negotiate theater integration

several months ago. Charles A& Black, ~COAHR chairman,
said Friday that three theater representatives had agreed to meet
with the students on Oct& 31 but had failed to show up. He declined
to name the three. Friday's letters asked for a Nov& 15
meeting. Failure to attend the meeting or explain inability to attend,
the letters said, would be considered a "sign of indifference".

Black said ~COAHR "hoped to be able to integrate the

theaters without taking direct action, but we are pledged to using every
legal and nonviolent means at our disposal **h" A
prepared
statement released by the student group Friday stated that "extensive
research by ~COAHR into techniques and methods of theater
integration in other cities indicated that the presence of picket lines
and stand-ins
before segregated theaters causes a drop in profits **h"

Besides managers of downtown theaters, the students sent

letters to owners of art theaters in the uptown area and Buckhead.

#R& E& KILLINGSWORTH#

Raymond E& Killingsworth, 72, died

Sunday at his home at 357 Venable St&, ~NW. Mr& Kililngsworth
was a foreman with ~S and ~W Cafeteria. He was born
in Pittsboro, Miss&, and was a veteran of World War /1,. He
was a member of the Baptist church. Survivors include two brothers,
C& E& Killingsworth, Atlanta, and John Killingsworth,
Warren, Ohio; and two sisters, Miss Minnie Kililngsworth and
Mrs& Bessie Bloom, both of Gettysburg, Pa&.

#JOHN W& BALL#

John William Ball, 68, of 133 Marietta St& ~NW, Apartment

101~B, died Sunday at his home. Mr& Ball was a house
painter. He was a member of the Oakland City Methodist Church
and a native of Atlanta. Funeral services will be at 2 p&m&
Tuesday at Blanchard's Chapel with the Rev& J& H& Hearn
officiating. Survivors include his sister, Mrs& Emma
B& Odom of Atlanta.

#MRS& LOLA HARRIS#

Mrs& Lola M&

Harris, a native of Atlanta, died Sunday at her home in Garland,
Tex&. Survivors include a son, Charles R& Fergeson, Memphis,
Tenn&; two daughters, Mrs& Gene F& Stoll and Miss
Nancy Harris, both of Garland; her father, H& T& Simpson,
Greenville, S&C&, and three sisters, Mrs& W& E& Little
and Mrs& Hal B& Wansley, both of Atlanta, and Mrs& Bill
Wallace, Wilmington, N&C&.

A 24-year-old Atlanta man was arrested Sunday after breaking

into the home of relatives in search of his wife, hitting his uncle with
a rock and assaulting two police officers who tried to subdue him,
police said. Patrolmen J& W& Slate and A& L& Crawford
Jr& said they arrested Ronald M& Thomas, of 1671 Nakoma
St&, ~NW, after he assaulted the officers.

#POLICE ACCOUNT#

The officers gave this account: Thomas early Sunday went

to the home of his uncle and aunt, Mr& and Mrs& R& C& Thomas,
511 Blanche St&, ~NW, looking for his wife, Margaret Lou
Thomas, 18, and their 11-month-old baby. The younger Thomas
ripped a screen door, breaking the latch, and after an argument struck
his uncle with a rock, scratching his face. He also struck his aunt
and wife, and during the melee the baby also suffered scratches.

When police arrived the man was still violent, Slate said.

#ATTACKS
OFFICER#

He attacked one of the officers and was restrained.

About five minutes later he jumped up, Slate said, and struck the
two policemen again. He was then subdued and placed in the police
car to be taken to Grady Hospital for treatment of scratches received
in the melee. Then he attacked the two officers again and was again
restrained, Slate related. Slate said he and Crawford received
cuts and scratches and their uniforms were badly torn.
Thomas was charged with four counts of assault and battery. Two counts
of assault on an officer, resisting arrest, disturbance and cursing,
police said. A hearing was set for 8:30 a&m& Tuesday.

Mrs& Mary Self, who knows more than any other person about
the 5,000 city employes for whom she has kept personnel records over
the years, has closed her desk and retired. Over the weekend,
Mrs& Self, personnel clerk, was a feted and honored guest of the
Atlanta Club, organization of women employes at City Hall.
After 18 years in the personnel office, she has taken a disability pension
on advice of her doctors. As personnel clerk, she handled
thousands of entries, ranging from appointments to jobs, to transfers
to other employments, to pensions. "I have enjoyed it and
will feel a bit lost at least for a while", she said wistfully Friday.

One of the largest crowds in the club's history turned out

to pay tribute to Mrs& Self and her service.
Georgia's Department of Agriculture is intensifying its fire
ant eradication program in an effort to stay ahead of the fast-spreading
pest. The department is planning to expand its eradication
program soon to four additional counties- Troup, Pierce, Bryan
and Bulloch- to treat 132,000 acres infested by the ants, according
to W& E& Blasingame state entomologist. Low-flying planes
will spread a granular-type chemical, heptachlor, over 30,000 acres
in Troup, 37,000 acres in Pierce and 65,000 acres in Bulloch and
Bryan counties.

The eradication effort is being pushed in Bibb

and Jones counties, over 37,679 acres. The department has just finished
treating 20,000 acres in urban areas of Macon. Also being
treated are Houston, Bleckley, Tift, Turner and Dodge counties,
Blasingame said. The fire ant is thought to infest approximately
two million acres of land in Georgia, attacking crops, young wildlife
and livestock and can be a serious health menace to humans who are allergic
to its venom, Blasingame said.

The north-bound entrance to the Expressway at 14th Street will

be closed during the afternoon rush traffic hours this week.
This is being done so that Georgia Tech can complete the final phase
of a traffic survey on the North Expressway. Students have been
using electric computers and high speed movie cameras during the study.
Perhaps the engineers can find out what causes all the congestion and
suggest methods to eliminate it. Incidentally, 14th Street
and the Expressway is the high accident intersection during daylight
hours. It is followed by Cain Street and Piedmont Avenue, ~NE;
the junction of the Northeast and Northwest Expressways and Jones
Avenue and Marietta Street, ~NW.

Four persons died in Georgia weekend traffic crashes, two of

them
in a fiery crash near Snellville, the State Patrol said Sunday.

The latest death reported was that of 4-year-old Claude Douglas

Maynor of Calvary. Troopers said the child ran into the path
of a passing car a half-mile north of Calvary on Georgia 111 in Grady
County. That death occurred at 6:50 p&m& Friday and
was reported Sunday, the patrol said.

#BURSTS INTO FLAMES#

An
auto overturned, skidding into a stopped tractor-trailer and burst into
flames near Snellville, the patrol said. Bobby Bester Hammett,
21, of Rte& 3, Lawrenceville, and Mrs& Lucille Herrington
Jones, 23, of Lawrenceville, died in the flaming car, the patrol
said.

_SALEM (SPECIAL)_- For a second month in a row, Multnomah County

may be short of general assistance money in its budget to handle an
unusually high summer month's need, the state public welfare commission
was told Friday. It is the only county in the state so
far this month reporting a possible shortage in ~GA category, for
which emergency allotment can be given by the state if necessary.

William Smythe, director of field service, told the commissioners

that Multnomah, as of Aug& 22, had spent $58,918 out of its budgeted
$66,000 in the category, leaving only $7,082 for the rest of the month.

At the rate of need indicated in the early weeks of the

month, this could mean a shortage of as high as $17,000. But it probably
will be less because of a usual slackening during the last weeks of
each month, Smythe said. No request for emergency allotment had yet
been received, however.

#BOARD OKS PACT#

The commission, meeting

for the first time with both of its newly-appointed commissioners, Roy
Webster, of Hood River, and Dr& Ennis Keizer, of North Bend,
approved a year's contract for a consultant in the data processing
department who has been the center of considerable controversy in
the past. The contract with Ray Field, who has been converting
the agencies electronic data processing program to magnetic tape, would
renew his present salary of $8 an hour up to a maximum of 200 hours
a month. Field does the planning for the machine operations
and fiscal processes and the adapting of the data processing system to
new programs as they are made necessary by legislative and policy changes.

Acting Administrator Andrew F& Juras said that because

of Field's unique position and knowledge in the program, the
agency now would be seriously handicapped if he was not continued for
a period. But he emphasized that the agency must train people
within its own employ to fulfill what Field handles, and he said he personally
"regrets very much that the agency has not done this in the
past". He pointed out to the commissioners that the agency
was literally dependent now on the machine processing, "and the whole
wheels of the agency would stop if it broke down or the three or four
persons directing it were to leave".

#SALARY TERMED MODEST#

Juras
said he insisted Field be continued on a consultant basis only
and be answerable directly to the administrator of the agency and not
to other agencies of the government. He also said that the salary,
in
terms of going rates in the field, was "modest" in terms of the man's
responsibility. The conversion to magnetic tape is not yet completed,
he said, and added Field's long service in state government
and welfare employ gave him familiarity with the welfare program.

"Do you feel you can stand up to the next legislative session and
defend this contract"? asked Mrs& Grace O& Peck, representative
from Multnomah County, of the commission chairman, Joseph E&
Harvey Jr&. "My feeling at the moment", he said,
"is that we have no alternative, irrespective of some of the arguments
about him. The continued operation of this program depends on having
his service".

#HARVEY CRITICIZED#

Mrs& Peck, later joined

by the commission's vice-chairman, Mrs& Lee Patterson, took Harvey
to task for comments he had made to the North Portland Rotary
Club Tuesday. A publicity release from Oregon Physicians
Service, of which Harvey is president, quoted him as saying the welfare
office move to Salem, instead of "crippling" the agency,
had provided an avenue to correct administrative weaknesses, with the
key being improved communications between ~F+~A and the commission
staff. "I rather resent", she said, "you speaking to
those groups in Portland as though just the move accomplished this.
**h I think you fell short of the real truth in the matter: That the
move is working out through the fine cooperation of the staff and all
the people. **h The staff deserves a lot of credit working
down here under real obstacles". Harvey said his objective
was to create a better public image for welfare".

The wife of convicted bank robber Lawrence G& Huntley was

arrested in Phoenix, Ariz&, last week and will be returned to Portland
to face charges of assault and robbery, Portland detectives said
Friday. Mrs& Lavaughn Huntley is accused of driving the
getaway car used in a robbery of the Woodyard Bros&' Grocery,
2825 E& Burnside St&, in April of 1959. Her husband,
who was sentenced to 15 years in the federal prison at McNeil Island
last April for robbery of the Hillsdale branch of Multnomah Bank,
also was charged with the store holdup. Secret Grand Jury indictments
were returned against the pair last week, Detective Murray Logan
reported. The Phoenix arrest culminates more than a year's
investigation by Detective William Taylor and other officers. Taylor
said Mrs& Huntley and her husband also will be questioned about
a series of 15 Portland robberies in spring of 1959 in which the
holdup men bound their victims with tape before fleeing. Mrs&
Huntley was held on $20,000 bond in Phoenix. She was arrested by
Phoenix Police after they received the indictment papers from Portland
detectives.

A 12-year-old girl, Susan Elaine Smith, 9329 ~NE Schuyler

St& was in serious condition Friday at Bess Kaiser Hospital,
victim of a bicycle-auto collision in the Gateway Shopping Center,
parking area, Deputy Sheriff W& H& Forsyth reported.

Funeral for William Joseph Brett, 1926 ~NE 50th Ave&,

who died Thursday in Portland, will be Monday 1 p&m& at the Riverview
Abbey. Mr& Brett, born in Brooklyn, N&Y&,
Dec& 15, 1886, came to Portland in 1920. He owned a logging equipment
business here from 1923 to 1928, and later became Northwest district
manager for Macwhyte Co&. He retired in 1958. Survivors
are his widow, Alice; a son, William, Seattle, Wash&; three
sisters, Mrs& Eugene Horstman, Los Angeles, Mrs& Lucy
Brett Andrew, New York City, and Mrs& Beatrice Kiefferm, New
York City, and five grandchildren.

Employes of Montgomery Ward + Co& at The Dalles, in a National

Labor Relations Board election Thursday voted to decertify
Local 1565, Retail Clerks International Association, ~AFL-~CIO,
as their collective bargaining agent. The ~NLRB
said that of 11 potentially eligible voters eight voted against the
union, two voted for it, and one vote was challenged.

Monte Brooks, 67, theatrical producer and band leader, collapsed

and died Thursday in a Lloyd Center restaurant. He lived at 6124
N& Willamette Blvd&. For many years he had provided
music and entertainment for functions throughout the Northwest. These
included Oregon State Fair, for which he had been booked on and off,
for 30 years. He collaborated with many of the big name entertainers
visiting Portland, among the most recent being Jimmy Durante
and Phil Silvers. He had conducted the 20-piece band in
a series of concerts at Blue Lake park during the summer months.

Mr& Brooks was born in New York, and came to Portland in 1920.
He planned at one time to enter the legal profession, but gave up
the plan in favor of the entertainment field. He was a member
of Harmony lodge, No& 12, ~AF+~AM, Scottish Rite; Al
Kader Temple of the Shrine; Order of Elks, Lodge No& 142;
40 + 8 Voiture, No& 25, Musician's Union, Local 99.

He was a former commander of Willamette Heights, Post, and a member

of Nevah Sholom Congregation. Survivors are his widow,
Tearle; a son, Sheldon Brooks; a daughter, Mrs& Sidney S&
Stein Jr&, Dorenzo, Calif&; a sister, Mrs& Birdie Gevurtz;
two brothers, Charley and Aaron Cohn, San Francisco; and
five grandchildren. Services will be at 2:30 p&m& Monday
at Holman + Son Funeral Home, with interment in Neveh Zebek
cemetery. The family requests that flowers be omitted.

A 16-year-old Portland businessman and his Junior Achievement

company, have been judged the "Company of the Year" in national
competition completed this week at Ohio State University, Columbus,
Ohio. Tim Larson, a junior at Wilson High School
and president of Spice-Nice, is the young executive who guided his firm
to the top-ranking position over the 4,500 other Junior Achievement
companies in the United States and Canada. The award is the first
such honor in the 11-year history of ~JA activities in Portland,
according to Ralph Scolatti, local executive director for Junior
Achievement. Spice-Nice, counseled by Georgia-Pacific Corp&,
had previously taken first-place honors in both local competition
and the regional conference at San Francisco. The "pocket-size"
company set records with $2,170 in sales of its products, a selection
of barbecue spices, and paid stockholders a 20 per cent dividend
on their investment.

#YOUNGSTERS DO BUSINESS#

The Junior Achievement

program is designed to give teenagers practical experience in business
by allowing them actually to form small companies, under the guidance
and sponsorship of business firms. The youngsters sell stock,
produce and sell a product, pay taxes, and show a profit **h or loss **h
just like full-scale businesses. National competition was the
culmination of work which began with the school year last fall and
continued until just before summer vacation. Participants in the 27 Portland
companies worked one night a week through the school year, guided
and counseled by adult advisors drawn from local business and industry.
Over 400 Portland firms contributed funds for the maintenance
of Junior Achievement headquarters here. For winning Larson
will receive a $100 U&S& Savings Bond from the Junior Achievement
national organization. His company, Spice-Nice, will receive
a $250 award, which will be distributed among the 16 charter members.
#~G-~P MEN SERVED#

Advisors for the "national champion"

company were John K& Morgan, William H& Baker, Leonard Breuer
and William F& Stephenson, all of Georgia-Pacific Corp&.

Young Larson is the son of Mr& and Mrs& Lawrence Larson,

5847 ~SW Nevada Ct&, Portland. Other members of
the Portland delegation attending the conference in Columbus are:
Kathleen Mason, Jefferson high school; Phil Reifenrath, Madison
high school; Ann Wegener, Madison; Richard E& Cohn, Grant;
Karen Kolb, Franklin; and Shelby Carlson, Cleveland.

_HILLSBORO (SPECIAL)_- Washington County's 36th annual fair

will close Saturday evening with 4-~H and ~FFA awards program
at 7, public dance at 8 and variety show at 8:30. On the day's
schedule are a flower show, 4-~H horsemanship contest and clown
shows, the latter at 11 a&m& and 3 p&m&. Attendance
continued to run ahead of last year's during the five-day show, with
clear skies helping attract fairgoers. Exhibition ballroom dancers
from the studio of Helen Wick Walters of Hillsboro won the
all-county talent contest. Bill Davis quartet of Hillsboro was second
and baton twirler Sue Ann Nuttall of Reedville third. Finalists
from the county's east end failed to place.

#RESULTS:#

Janet
Jossy of North Plains won grand champion honors of the 4-~H sheep
showman contest. Blue ribbons went to Stephanie Shaw of Hillsboro,
Larry Hinton
of Beaverton. Joan Zurcher of Hillsboro, Phyllis
Jossy of North Plains, Jane Cox of North Plains. Kathy Jossy
of Hillsboro, Carol Jossy of North Plains and Lorlyn and Tom
Zurcher of Hillsboro. Tom Day of Beaverton exhibited the
grand champion 4-~H market hog, a Chester White. Also winning blue
ribbons were Bob Day of Beaverton, Tony Traxel of Beaverton and
Steve Hutchins of Banks. Swine showmanship championship
went
to Bob Day, with Tom Day and Hutchins winning other blues.

Charles Reynolds of Pumpkin Ridge was rabbit showmanship champion.

In poultry judging, blues were won by John Nyberg of Tualatin,

Anne Batchelder of Hillsboro, Jim Shaw of Hillsboro, Stephanie
Shaw of Hillsboro and Lynn Robinson of Tigard. Blue
ribbon for one dozen white eggs was taken by Nyberg. In
open class poultry, Donald Wacklin of Sherwood had the champion male
and female bird and grand champion bird. John Haase + Son
of Corneilus was the only entrant in open class swine and swept all
championships.

Carol Strong, 13, of Cedar Mill cooked the championship

junior dollar dinner. Millie Jansen, high school senior from
Verboort, had the championship dollar dinner, and Jody Jaross of
Hillsboro also won a blue ribbon. Barbara Borland of Tigard
took top senior individual home economics honors with a demonstration
called filbert hats.

About 70 North Providence taxpayers made appeals to the board

of tax accessors for a review of their 1961 tax assessments during the
last two days at the town hall in Centredale. These were
the last
two days set aside by the board for hearing appeals. Appeals were heard
for two days two weeks ago. About 75 persons appeared at that time.

Louis H& Grenier, clerk of the board, said that the appeals
will be reviewed in December at the time the board is visiting new
construction sites in the town for assessment purposes. They also
will visit properties on which appeals have been made. Any adjustments
which are made, Mr& Grenier said earlier this month, will
appear on the balance of the tax bill since most of the town's taxpayers
take the option of paying quarterly with the balance due next year.

John Pezza, 69, of 734 Hartford Avenue, Providence, complained

of shoulder pains after an accident in which a car he was driving
collided with a car driven by Antonio Giorgio, 25, of 12 DeSoto St&,
Providence, on Greenville Avenue and Cherry Hill Road in
Johnston yesterday. Mr& Giorgio had started to turn left off
Greenville Avenue onto Cherry Hill Road when his car was struck
by the Pezza car, police said. Both cars were slightly damaged.

Mr& Pezza was taken to a nearby Johnston physician, Dr& Allan

A& DiSimone, who treated him. Mr& Giorgio was
uninjured.

Thieves yesterday ransacked a home in the Garden Hills section

of Cranston and stole an estimated $3,675 worth of furs, jewels,
foreign coins and American dollars. Mr& and Mrs& Stephen
M& Kochanek reported the theft at their home on 41 Garden Hills
Drive at about 6 last night. They told police the intruders took a
mink coat worth $700, a black Persian lamb jacket worth $450; a wallet
with $450 in it; a collection of English, French and German
coins, valued at $500; four rings, a watch and a set of pearl earrings.

One of the rings was a white gold band with a diamond setting,
valued at $900. The others were valued at $325, $75 and $65. The
watch was valued at $125 and the earrings at $85. The Kochaneks
told police they left home at 8 a&m& and returned about 5:45
p&m& and found the house had been entered. Patrolman Robert J&
Nunes, who investigated, said the thieves broke in through the back
door. Drawers and cabinets in two bedrooms and a sewing room were ransacked.

The city sewer maintenance division said efforts will be made

Sunday to clear a stoppage in a sewer connection at Eddy and Elm Streets
responsible for dumping raw sewage into the Providence River.

The division said it would be impossible to work on the line

until then because of the large amount of acid sewage from jewelry plants
in the area flowing through the line, heavy vehicle traffic on Eddy
Street and tide conditions.

A two-family house at 255 Brook Street has been purchased by

Brown University from Lawrence J& Sullivan, according to a deed
filed Monday at City Hall. F& Morris Cochran, university vice
president and business manager, said the house has been bought to provide
rental housing for faculty families, particularly for those here
for a limited time.

Employes of Pawtucket's garbage and rubbish collection contractor

picketed the firm's incinerator site yesterday in the second
day of a strike for improved wages and working conditions. Thomas
Rotelli, head of Rhode Island Incinerator Service, Inc&, said
four of the company's eight trucks were making collections with
both newly hired and regular workers. Sydney Larson, a staff
representative for the United Steel Workers, which the firm's 25
workers joined before striking, said the state Labor Relations Board
has been asked to set up an election to pick a bargaining agent.

A 62-year-old Smithfield man, Lester E& Stone of 19 Beverly

Circle, was in satisfactory condition last night at Our Lady of
Fatima Hospital, North Providence, with injuries suffered when a
car he was driving struck a utility pole on Woonasquatucket Avenue
in North Providence near Stevens Street. Mr& Stone suffered
fractured ribs and chest cuts, hospital authorities said. He was
taken to the hospital by the North Providence ambulance. Before
hitting the pole, Mr& Stone's car brushed against a car driven
by Alva W& Vernava, 21, of 23 Maple Ave&, North Providence,
tearing away the rear bumper and denting the left rear fender of
the Vernava car, police said. Mr& Vernava was uninjured. The
impact with the utility pole caused a brief power failure in the immediate
area of the accident. One house was without power for about
half an hour, a Narragansett Electric Co& spokesman said. The power
was off for about five minutes in houses along Smith Street as far
away as Fruit Hill Avenue shortly before 5 p&m& when the accident
occurred.

The fight over the Warwick School Committee's appointment

of a coordinator of audio-visual education may go to the state Supreme
Court, it appeared last night. Two members of the Democratic-endorsed
majority on the school board said they probably would vote
to appeal a ruling by the state Board of Education, which said yesterday
that the school committee acted improperly in its appointment of
the coordinator, Francis P& Nolan 3rd, the Democratic-endorsed
committee chairman, could not be reached for comment. In its
ruling, the state Board of Education upheld Dr& Michael F& Walsh,
state commissioner of education, who had ruled previously that
the Warwick board erred when it named Maurice F& Tougas as coordinator
of audio-visual education without first finding that the school
superintendent's candidate was not suitable. Supt& Clarence
S& Taylor had recommended Roger I& Vermeersch for the post.

Milton and Rosella Lovett of Cranston were awarded $55,000

damages from the state in Superior Court yesterday for industrial property
which they owned at 83 Atwells Ave&, Providence, and which
was condemned for use in construction of Interstate Route 95.

The award was made by Judge Fred B& Perkins who heard their
petition without a jury by agreement of the parties. The award,
without interest, compared with a valuation of $57,500 placed on the
property by the property owners' real estate expert, and a valuation
of $52,500 placed on it by the state's expert. The property
included a one-story brick manufacturing building on 8,293 square feet
of land. Saul Hodosh represented the owners. Atty& Gen&
J& Joseph Nugent appeared for the state.

Santa's lieutenants in charge of the Journal-Bulletin Santa

Claus Fund are looking for the usual generous response this year
from Cranston residents. Persons who find it convenient may send
their contributions to the Journal-Bulletin's Cranston office
at 823 Park Avenue. All contributed will be acknowledged. The
fund's statewide quota this year is $8,250 to provide Christmas
gifts for needy youngsters. Scores of Cranston children will be remembered.

Cranston residents have been generous contributors to

the fund over the years. Public school children have adopted the fund
as one of their favorite Christmas charities and their pennies, nickels,
dimes and quarters aid greatly in helping Santa to reach the fund's
goal.

Bernard Parrillo, 20, of 19 Fletcher Ave&, Cranston, was

admitted to Roger Williams Hospital shortly before 11:30 a&m&
yesterday after a hunting accident in which a shotgun he was carrying
discharged against his heel. Mr& Parrillo was given first
aid at Johnston Hose 1. (Thornton) where he had been driven by a companion.
The two had been hunting in the Simmonsville area of town
and Mr& Parrillo dropped the gun which fired as it struck the ground.

Hospital officials said the injury was severe but the youth
was in good condition last night.

A check for $4,177.37 representing the last payment of a $50,000

federal grant to Rhode Island Hospital was presented to the hospital
administrator, Oliver G& Pratt, yesterday by Governor Notte.

The hospital has used the money to assist in alterations on

the fifth floor of the Jane Brown Hospital, part of Rhode Island
Hospital. The work added eight beds to the hospital, giving it a total
capacity of 646 general beds.

Vincent Sorrentino, founder and board chairman of the Uncas

Mfg& Co&, has been designated a Cavaliere of the Order of Merit
of the Republic of Italy. The decoration will be presented
by A& Trichieri, Italian consul general in Boston, at a ceremony
at 2:30 p& m& on Dec& 7
at the plant, which this year is celebrating
its golden anniversary. About 500 employes of the firm will be
on hand to witness bestowal of the honor upon Mr& Sorrentino.

Mr& Sorrentino will be honored on the evening of Dec& 7

at a dinner to be given by the Aurora Club at the Sheraton-Biltmore
Hotel.

The Newport-based destroyer picket escort Kretchmer has arrived

back at Newport after three months' patrol in North Atlantic
waters marked by mercy jobs afloat and ashore. On Sept& 6,
the Kretchmer rescued the crew of a trawler they found drifting on a
life raft after they had abandoned a sinking ship. In August while stopping
in Greenock, Scotland, three members of the crew on liberty
rendered first aid to a girl who fell from a train. Local authorities
credited the men with saving the girl's life.

_BIRMINGHAM, ALA&- (~AP)_-

The ~FBI yesterday arrested
on a perjury charge one of the members of the jury that failed to reach
a verdict in the "Freedom Rider" bus burning trial four weeks
ago. U&S& Attorney Macon Weaver said the federal complaint,
charged that the juror gave false information when asked about
Ku Klux Klan membership during selection of jury. He identified
the man as Lewis Martin Parker, 59, a farmer of Hartselle,
Ala&. Eight men were tried together in U&S& District
Court in Anniston, Ala&, on charges of interfering with interstate
transportation and conspiracy growing out of a white mob's attack
on a Greyhound bus carrying the first of the Freedom Riders. The
bus was
burned outside Anniston. One of the eight defendants was
freed on a directed verdict of acquittal. A mistrial was declared in
the case against the other seven when the jury was unable to agree on
a verdict. The arrest of Mr& Parker marks the third charge
of wrongdoing involving the jury that heard the case. The first
incident occurred before the trial got under way when Judge H&
Hobart Grooms told the jury panel he had heard reports of jury-tampering
efforts. He asked members of the panel to tell him if anyone
outside the court had spoken to them about the case. Two members
of the panel later told in court about receiving telephone calls at their
homes from anonymous persons expressing interest in the trial. Neither
was seated on the jury. Then, when the case went to the
jury, the judge excused one of the jurors, saying the juror had told him
he had been accosted by masked men at his motel the night before the
trial opened. The juror said the masked men had advised him to be lenient.
The judge replaced the juror with an alternate. No formal
charges have been filed as a result of either of the two reported
incidents. At the opening of the trial, the jury panel was questioned
as a group by Mr& Weaver about Ku Klux Klan connections.

One member of the panel- not Mr& Parker- indicated

he had been a member of the ~KKK at one time. He was not seated
on the jury. The perjury charge against Mr& Parker carries
a maximum penalty of $2,000 fine and five years imprisonment on conviction.

_NEW YORK- (~UPI)_- The New York University Board of

Trustees has elected the youngest president in the 130-year history
of ~NYU, it was announced yesterday. The new president is
37-year-old Dr& James McN& Hester, currently dean of the ~NYU
Graduate School of Arts and Sciences. He will take over his
new post Jan& 1. Dr& Hester, also one of the youngest
men ever to head a major American university, succeeds Dr& Carroll
V& Newsom who resigned last September to join Prentice-Hall Inc&
publishing firm. Dr& Hester, of Princeton, N&J&,
is a native of Chester, Pa& He joined ~NYU in September,
1960. Prior to that he was associated with Long Island University
in Brooklyn.

_ASILOMAR, MARCH 26_ Vast spraying programs conducted by "technicians

with narrow training and little wisdom" are endangering crops
and wildlife, Carl W& Buchheister, president of the National Audubon
Society, said today. "It is like handing a loaded .45
automatic to an 8-year-old and telling him to run out and play", he
commented. Buchheister told delegates to the West Coast Audubon
Convention that aerial spraying in Louisiana failed to destroy
its target, the fire ant. "But it did destroy the natural
controls of a borer and released a new plague that wrecked a sugar cane
crop", he said. The conservation leader said other mistakes
in spraying had caused serious damage in Ohio and Wyoming. There
have even been serious errors in the U& S& Forest Service,
whose
officials pride themselves in their scientific training, he added.

"The news of their experiments reach the farmers who, forgetting

that birds are the most efficient natural enemies of insects and rodents,
are encouraged to try to get rid of all birds that occasionally
peck their grapes or their blueberries", Buchheister told the delegates.

In addition to urging greater restrictions on aerial spraying,

Buchheister called for support of the Wilderness bill, creation
of national seashore parks, including Point Reyes; preservation
of the wetlands where birds breed; a pesticides co-ordination act;
stronger water pollution control programs, and Federal ratification
of an international convention to halt pollution of the sea by
oil.

The Reed Rogers Da Fonta Wild Life Sanctuary in Marin

county on Friday officially became the property of the National Audubon
Society. Mrs& Norman Livermore, president of the Marin
Conservation League, handed over the deed to the 645-acre tidelands
tract south of Greenwood Beach to Carl W& Buchheister, president
of the Society. The presentation was made before several
hundred persons at the annual meeting of the League at Olney Hall,
College of Marin, Kentfield. Buchheister pledged the land
would be an "inviolate" sanctuary for all birds, animals and plants.

Seventeen years ago today, German scientist Willy Fiedler climbed

into a makeshift cockpit installed in a ~V-1 rocket-bomb that
was attached to the underbelly of a Heinkel bomber. The World
War /2, German bomber rolled down a runway and took off.

The only way Fiedler could get back to earth alive was to fly the
pulse jet missile and land it on the airstrip. This had never been done
before. Now a quiet-spoken, middle-aged man, Fiedler is an
aeronautical engineer for Lockheed's Missiles and Space Division
at Sunnyvale, where he played a key role in the development of the
Navy's Polaris missile. He sat in his office yesterday and
recalled that historic flight in 1944. "The first two pilots
had crashed", he said. "I had developed the machines and therefore
knew them. It was time to go up myself". Fiedler was then
technical director of Hitler's super-secret "Reichenberg project",
which remained unknown to the Allies until after the war.

About 200 of the special ~V-1 rocket-bombs were to be made ready

for manned flight with an explosive warhead. The target was Allied
shipping- a desperate effort to stave off the Allied invasion of
Europe. The success of the project depended upon Fiedler's
flight. Squeezed into the few cubic feet normally filled by
the rocket's automatic guidance mechanism, the scientist waited while
the bomber gained altitude. At 12,000 feet, Fiedler signaled
"release", and started the roaring pulse-jet engine- then streaked
away from beneath the Heinkel. To the German pilot in the
bomber the rocket became a faint black speck, hurtling through the
sky at the then incredible speed of 420 m&p&h&. It was probably
man's first successful flight in a missile. "She flew beautifully",
said Fiedler. "There was only one power control- a valve
to adjust the fuel flow. I had exactly 20 minutes to get down to
the test strip". Using a steering system that controlled the
modified rocket's tail surfaces and wings equipped with ailerons,
Fiedler was to land the missile on a skid especially bolted under the
fuselage. He managed to maneuver the missile to a landing speed
of 200 m&p&h&- fast even for a modern jet plane touchdown-
and banked into the airfield. Moments later the ~V-1 skimmed
across the landing strip, edging closer and closer to a touchdown-
then in a streamer of dust it landed. Fiedler went on to make
several other test flights before German pilots took over the Reichenberg
missiles. The missiles were to be armed with an underwater
bomb. Pilots would steer them in a suicide dive into the water,
striking below the waterline of individual ships. A crack corps
of 50 pilots was formed from the ranks of volunteers, but the project
was halted before the end of the war, and the missiles later fell into
Allied hands. Now a family man with three children, Fiedler
lives in a quiet residential area near the Lockheed plant at Sunnyvale.
His spare time is spent in soaring gliders. "It's
so quiet", he said, "so slow, serene- and so challenging".

John Di Massimo has been elected president of the 1961 Columbus

Day Celebration Committee, it was announced yesterday.
Other officers are Angelo J& Scampini, vice president, Joseph V&
Arata, treasurer, and Fred J& Casassa, secretary.
Judge
John B& Molinari was named chairman of the executive committee.
Elected to the board of directors were: Elios P& Anderlini,
Attilio Beronio, Leo M& Bianco, Frederic Campagnoli,
Joseph Cervetto, Armond J& De Martini, Grace Duhagon, John
P& Figone, John P& Figone Jr&, Stephen Mana, John Moscone,
Calude Perasso, Angelo Petrini, Frank Ratto, and George R&
Reilly.

Dr& Albert Schweitzer, world-famous theologian and

medical
missionary, has endorsed an Easter March for Disarmament which begins
tomorrow in Sunnyvale. Members of the San Francisco American
Friends Service, a Quaker organization, will march to San Francisco
for a rally in Union Square at 2 p& m& Saturday.

In a letter to the American Friends Service, Dr& Schweitzer

wrote: "Leading Nations of the West and of the East keep
busy making newer nuclear weapons to defend themselves in the event
the constantly threatening nuclear war should break out. "They
cannot do otherwise than live in dread of each other since these weapons
imply the possibility of such grisly surprise attack. The only
way out of this state of affairs is agreement to abolish nuclear weapons;
otherwise no peace is possible. "Governments apparently
do not feel obligated to make the people adequately aware of this danger;
therefore we need guardians to demonstrate against the ghastly
stupidity of nuclear weapons and jolt the people out of their complacency".

A federal grand jury called 10 witnesses yesterday in an investigation

of the affairs of Ben Stein, 47, who collected big fees as
a "labor consultant" and operator of a janitors' service.
Before he testified for 20 minutes, Stein, who lives at 3300 Lake
Shore dr&, admitted to reporters that he had a wide acquaintance with
crime syndicate hoodlums.

#GLIMCO A BUDDY#

Among his gangland

buddies, he said, were
Joseph [Joey] Glimco, a mob labor racketeer,
and four gang gambling chiefs, Gus [Slim] Alex, Ralph Pierce,
Joe [Caesar] DiVarco, and Jimmy [Monk] Allegretti.
Another hoodlum, Louis Arger, drew $39,000 from Stein's janitor
firm, the National Maintenance company, in three years ending in 1959,
Stein disclosed in an interview. "I put Arger on the payroll
because he promised to get my firm the stevedore account at Navy
pier", Stein said. "But Arger never was able to produce it, so
I cut him off my payroll".

#CONNECTION IS SOUGHT#

Other witnesses,
after appearances before the jury, which reportedly is probing
into possible income tax violations, disclosed that government prosecutors
were attempting to connect Stein and his company with a number of
gangsters, including Glimco and Alex. The federal lawyers,
according to their witnesses, also were tracing Stein's fees as a
labor consultant. Under scrutiny, two of the witnesses said, were payments
and loans to Stein's National Maintenance company at 543 Madison
st&. The company supplies janitors and workmen for
McCormick
Place and factories, liquor firms, and other businesses.

#LEE
A WITNESS#

Among the witnesses were Ed J& Lee, director of

McCormick Place; Jerome Leavitt, a partner in the Union Liquor
company, 3247 S& Kedzie av&, Dominic Senese, a teamster union
slugger who is a buddy of Stein and a cousin of Tony Accardo, onetime
gang chief; and Frank W& Pesce, operator of a Glimco dominated
deodorant firm, the Best Sanitation and Supply company, 1215
Blue Island av&. Lee said he had told the jury that he made
an agreement in April with Stein to supply and supervise janitors
in McCormick Place. Stein's fee, Lee said, was 10 per cent of
the janitors' pay. Stein estimated this amount at "about $1,500
or $1,600 a month".

#A $12,500 PAYMENT#

Leavitt, as he entered
the jury room, said he was prepared to answer questions about the $12,500
his liquor firm paid to Stein for "labor consultant work" with
five unions which organized Leavitt's workers. Leavitt identified
the unions as a warehouseman's local, the teamsters union, a salesman's
union, the janitors' union, and a bottling workers' union.

Government attorneys, Leavitt said, have questioned him closely

about "five or six loans" totaling about $40,000 which the liquor
company made to Stein in the last year. All of the loans,
in amounts up to $5,000 each, have been repaid by Stein, according
to Leavitt. Stein said he needed the money, Leavitt said, to "meet
the payroll" at National Maintenance company. The deodorant
firm run by Pesce has offices in the headquarters of Glimco's
discredited taxi drivers' union at 1213-15 Blue Island av&.

The radiation station of the Chicago board of health recorded

a reading of 1 micro-microcurie of radiation per cubic meter of air over
Chicago yesterday. The reading, which has been watched
with
interest since Russia's detonation of a super bomb Monday, was 4
on Tuesday and 7 last Saturday, a level far below the danger point,
according to the board of health. The weather bureau has estimated
that radioactive fallout from the test might arrive here next week.
A board of health spokesman said there is no reason to believe that
an increase in the level here will occur as a result of the detonation.

Curtis Allen Huff, 41, of 1630 Lake av&, Wilmette, was arrested
yesterday on a suppressed federal warrant charging him with embezzling
an undetermined amount of money from the First Federal Savings
and Loan association, 1 S& Dearborn st&, where he formerly
was employed
as an attorney. Federal prosecutors estimated that the
amount may total $20,000, altho a spokesman for the association estimated
its loss at approximately $10,000.

#LIEN PAYMENTS INVOLVED#

Huff's attorney, Antone F& Gregorio, quoted his client as saying

that part of the embezzlement represented money paid to Huff, as
attorney for the loan association, in satisfaction of mechanic's liens
on property on which the association held mortgages. Huff told
Gregorio that he took the money to pay "the ordinary bills and
expenses of suburban living". Huff, who received a salary of
$109 a week from the loan association from October of 1955 until September
of this year, said that his private practice was not lucrative.
Huff lives with his wife, Sue, and their four children, 6 to 10 years
old, in a $25,000 home with a $17,000 mortgage.

#CHARGE LISTS 3
CHECKS#

The complaint on which the warrant was issued was filed by

Leo Blaber, an attorney for the association. The shortage was
discovered after Huff failed to report for work on Sept& 18. On
that date, according to Gregorio, Huff left his home and took a room
in the New Lawrence hotel at 1020 Lawrence av&. There, Gregorio
said, Huff wrote a complete statement of his offense. Later,
Huff cashed three checks for $100 each at the Sherman House, using
a credit card. All bounced. When Huff attempted to cash another
$100 check there Monday, hotel officials called police.

_BONN, OCT& 24 (~UPI)_- Greece and West Germany have ratified

an agreement under which Germany will pay $28,700,000 to Greek
victims of Nazi persecution, it was announced today.

PROBABLY THE hottest thing that has hit the Dallas investment
community in years was the Morton Foods stock issue, which was
sold to the public during the past week. For many reasons, the
demand to buy shares in the Dallas-headquartered company was tremendous.
It was not a case of the investment bankers having to sell the
stock; it was more one of allotting a few shares to a number of customers
and explaining to others why they had no more to sell. Investors
who wanted 100 shares in many cases ended up with 25, and customers
who had put in a bid to buy 400 shares found themselves with 100
and counted themselves lucky to get that many. In fact, very
few customers, anywhere in the nation, were able to get more than 100
shares. Some Dallas investment firms got only 100 shares, for all of
their customers. A measure of how hot the stock was, can be
found in what happened to it on the market as soon as trading began.
The stock was sold in the underwriting at a price of $12.50 a share.
The first over-the-counter trade Wednesday afternoon at Eppler,
Guerin + Turner, the managing underwriter, was at $17 a share. And
from that the stock moved right on up until it was trading Thursday
morning at around $22 a share. But the Morton Foods issue
was hot long before it was on the market. Indeed, from the moment the
reports of the coming issue first started circulating in Dallas last
January, the inquiries and demand for the stock started building up.

Letters by the reams came in from investment firms all over the
nation, all of them wanting to get a part of the shares that would
be sold (185,000 to the public at $12.50, with another 5,000 reserved
for Morton Foods employes at $11.50 a share). There was even
a cable in French from a bank in Switzerland that had somehow learned
about the Dallas stock offering. "We subscribe 500 shares of Morton
Foods of Texas. Cable confirmation", it said translated. But
E&G&T& could not let the Swiss bank have even 10 shares.

After it allotted shares to 41 underwriters and 52 selling group

members from coast to coast there were not many shares for anyone.

But the result of it all was, E&G&T& partner Dean Guerin

believes, an effective distribution of the stock to owners all
over the nation. "I feel confident the stock will qualify for
the 'national list'", he said, meaning its market price would
be quoted regularly in newspapers all over the country. He was
also pleased with the wide distribution because he thought it proved
again his argument that Dallas investment men can do just as good a
job as the big New York investment bankers claim only they can do.

But what made the Morton Foods stock issue such a hot one?

The answer is that it was a combination of circumstances.

First, the general stock market has been boiling upward for the last
few months, driving stocks of all kinds up. As a result, it is not
easy to find a stock priced as the Morton issue was priced (at roughly
10 times 1960 earnings, to yield a little over 5 per cent on the 64~c
anticipated dividend). Second, the "potato chip industry"
has caught the fancy of investors lately, and until Morton Foods
came along there were only two potato chip stocks- Frito and H&
W& Lay- on the market. Both of those have had dynamic run-ups
in price on the market in recent months, both were selling at higher
price-earnings and yield bases than Morton was coming to market
at, and everyone who knew anything about it expected the Morton stock
to have a fast run-up. And third, the potato chip industry has
taken on the flavor of a "growth" industry in the public mind of
late. Foods, which long had been considered "recession resistant"
but hardly dynamic stocks, have been acting like growth stocks, going
to higher price-earnings ratios. The potato chip industry these
days is growing, not only as a
result of population increase and public
acceptance of convenience foods, but also because of a combination
of circumstances
that has led to growth by merger. The history of the
U&S& potato chip industry is that many of today's successful
companies got started during the deep depression days. Those that remain
are those that were headed by strong executives, men with the abilities
to last almost 30 years in the competitive survival of the fittest.

But today many of those men are reaching retirement age and
suddenly realizing that they face an estate tax problem with their
closely held companies and also that they have no second-echelon management
in their firms. So they go looking for mergers with other
firms that have publicly quoted stock, and almost daily they pound on
the doors of firms like Frito. All those things combined to
make the Morton Foods stock the hot issue that it was and is.

Now, if Morton's newest product, a corn chip known as Chip-o's,

turns out to sell as well as its stock did, the stock may turn out
to be worth every cent of the prices that the avid buyers bid it up
to.
Dallas and North Texas is known world-wide as the manufacturing and
distribution center of cotton gin machinery and supplies, valued in the
millions of dollars. More than 10 companies maintain facilities
in Dallas and one large manufacturer is located to the north at
Sherman. It is no coincidence that the Texas Cotton Ginner's
Association is meeting here this week for the 46th time in their
52-year history. The exhibition of cotton ginning machinery at
the State Fair grounds is valued at more than a million dollars. It
weighs in the tons, so the proximity of factory and exhibition area
makes it possible for an outstanding exhibit each year. A modern
cotton gin plant costs in the neighborhood of $250,000, and it's
a safe assumption that a large percentage of new gins in the U&S&
and foreign countries contain machinery made in this area.
The Murray Co& of Texas, Inc&, originated in Dallas in 1896.
They've occupied a 22-acre site since the early 1900's. More than
700 employes make gin machinery that's sold anywhere cotton is grown.

Murray makes a complete line of ginning equipment except

for driers and cleaners, and this machinery is purchased from a Dallas-based
firm. The Continental Gin Co& began operations in
Dallas in 1899. The present company is a combination of several smaller
ones that date back to 1834. Headquarters is in Birmingham,
Ala&. Factories are located here and in Prattville, Ala&.
About
40 per cent of the manufacturing is done at the Dallas plant by
more than 200 employes. The company sells a complete line of
gin machinery all over the cotton-growing world. Hardwicke-Etter
Co& of Sherman makes a full line of gin machinery and equipment.
The firm recently expanded domestic sales into the Southeastern
states as a result of an agreement with Cen-Tennial Gin Co&. They
export also. The company began operation in 1900 with hardware
and oil mill supplies. In 1930, they began making cotton processing
equipment. Presently, Hardwicke-Etter employs 300-450 people, depending
on the season of the year. The Lummus Cotton Gin Co&
has had a sales and service office in Dallas since 1912. Factory
operations are in Columbus, Ga&. The district office here employs
about 65. The Moss Gordin Lint Cleaner Co& and Gordin
Unit System of Ginning have joint headquarters here. The cleaner
equipment firm began operations in 1953 and the unit system, which
turns out a complete ginning system, began operations in 1959.
Gordin manufacturing operations are in Lubbock. The John E&
Mitchell Co& began work in Dallas in 1928. The firm is prominent
in making equipment for cleaning seed cotton, driers, and heaters,
and they lay claim to being the first maker (1910) of boil extraction
equipment. The increase in mechanical harvesting of cotton makes
cleaning and drying equipment a must for modern gin operation.

Mitchell employs a total of about 400 people. They export cotton

ginning machinery. The Hinckley Gin Supply Co& is a maker
of "overhead equipment". This includes driers, cleaners, burr
extractors, separators and piping that's located above gin stands in
a complete gin. The firm began operations back in 1925 and sells
equipment in the central cotton belt, including the Mississippi
Delta. The Cen-Tennial Gin Supply Co& has home offices
and factory facilities here. They make gin saws and deal in parts, supplies
and some used gin machinery. The Stacy Co& makes cleaning
and drying equipment for sale largely in Texas. They've been
in Dallas since 1921. Cotton Belt Gin Service, Inc&
of Dallas makes gin saws and started here 14 years ago. They distribute
equipment in 11 states. The firm also handles gin and oil mill supplies
such as belting, bearings, etc&. Cotton processing equipment
is a sizable segment of Dallas business economy.
New car sales in Dallas County during March showed slight signs of
recovering from the doldrums which have characterized sales this year.

Registrations of new cars in Dallas County cracked the 3,000

mark in March for the first time this year. Totaling 3,399,
sales jumped 14 per cent over February's 2,963. However, compared
with March 1960 new car sales of 4,441, this March was off 23 per
cent. On a quarter-to-quarter comparison, the first quarter of
1961 total of 9,273 cars was 21 per cent behind the previous year's
3-month total of 11,744. This year-to-year decline for Dallas
County closely follows the national trend- estimated sales of domestic
cars in the U&S& for first three months of 1961 were about
1,212,000 or 80 per cent of the total in the first quarter a year earlier.

With the March pickup, dealers are optimistic that the

April-June quarter will equal or top last year. The March gain plus
this optimism has been encouraging enough to prompt auto makers to boost
production schedules for the next quarter. On the local level,
compacts continue to grab a larger share of the market at the expense
of lower-priced standard models and foreign cars. Only three standard
models- Buick, Chrysler, and Mercury- had slight year-to-year
gains in March sales in the county.

The top 3 students from 11 participating Dallas County high

schools will be honored by the Dallas Sales Executives Club at a banquet
at 6 p&m& Tuesday in the Sam Houston Room of the Sheraton-Dallas
Hotel as the club winds up its annual Distributive Education
project. Now in its third year, the program is designed
to provide a laboratory for those youngsters seeking careers in marketing
and salesmanship. Business firms provide 20 weeks of practical employment
to supplement classroom instruction in these fields. More
than 500 juniors and seniors are taking part in the program and 100
firms offer jobs on an educational rather than a need basis.
Principal address will be delivered by Gerald T& Owens, national
sales manager for Isodine Pharmical Corp& of New York.
The 33 honored students are: Mike Trigg, Raymond Arrington, and
Ronald Kaminsky of Bryan Adams, Janice Whitney, Fil Terral,
and Carl David Page of W& H& Adamson; Bill Burke, Tommie
Freeman, and Lawrence Paschall of N& R& Crozier Tech&
Paulah
Thompson, Gerald Kestner, and Nancy Stephenson of Hillcrest;
Arnold Hayes, Mary Ann Shay, and Lloyd Satterfield of Thomas
Jefferson; William Cluck, Deloris Carrel Carty, and
Edna Earl Eaton of North Dallas; Patricia Ann Neal, Johnny
Carruthers, and David McLauchlin of Rylie of Seagoville; David
Wolverton, Sharon Flanagan, and James Weaver of W& W& Samuels;
William Austin, Gary Hammond, and Ronnie Davis of South
Oak Cliff; Bill Eaton, Carolyn Milton, and Ronnie Bert Stone
of Sunset; and Charles Potter, Ronnie Moore, and Robert Bailey
of Woodrow Wilson.

The Kennedy administration's new housing and urban renewal

proposals, particularly their effect on the Federal Housing Administration,
came under fire in Dallas last week. The Administration's
proposals, complex and sweeping as they are, all deal with fringe
areas of the housing market rather than its core, stated Caron
S& Stallard, first vice-president of the Mortgage Bankers Association
of America.

_SANTA BARBARA_- "The present recovery movement will gather steady

momentum to lift the economy to a new historic peak by this autumn",
Beryl W& Sprinkel, economist of Harris Trust + Savings
Bank, Chicago, predicted at the closing session here Tuesday of Investment
Bankers Assn&, California group, conference. Another
speaker, William H& Draper, Jr&, former Under Secretary
of the Army and now with the Palo Alto venture capital firm of Draper,
Gaither + Anderson, urged the U&S& to "throw down the
gauntlet of battle to communism and tell Moscow bluntly we won't be
pushed arouny any more". He urged support for President Kennedy's
requests for both defense and foreign aid appropriations. #'NOT
FLASH IN PAN'#

Sprinkel told conferees that the recent improvement

in economic activity was not a "temporary flash in the pan"
but the beginning of a substantial cyclical expansion that will carry
the economy back to full employment levels and witness a renewal of our
traditional growth pattern. "In view of the current expansion,
which promises to be substantial" he said the odds appear to favor
rising interest rates in coming months, but "there is reason to
believe the change will not be as abrupt as in 1958 nor as severe as
in late 1959 and 1960".

#THESIS REFUTED#

Sprinkel strongly refuted

the current neo-stagnationist thesis that we are facing a future of
limited and slow growth, declaring that this pessimism "is based
on
very limited and questionable evidence". Rather than viewing
the abortive recovery in 1959-60 as a reason for believing we have lost
prospects for growth", he said "it should be viewed as a lesson
well learned which will increase the probability of substantial improvement
in this recovery".

#DANGER CITED#

He cautioned that "the

greater danger in this recovery may be excessive stimulation by government
which could bring moderate inflation". The economist
does not look for a drastic switch in the budget during this recovery
and believes it "even more unlikely that the Federal Reserve will
aggressively tighten monetary policy in the early phases of the upturn
as was the case in 1958". The unsatisfactory 1958-60 expansion,
he said, was not due to inadequate growth forces inherent in our
economy but rather to the adverse effect of inappropriate economic policies
combined with retrenching decisions resulting from the steel strike.

#SACRIFICES NEEDED#

Draper declared, "As I see it, this

country has never faced such great dangers as threaten us today. We
must justify our heritage. We must be ready for any needed sacrifice".

He said that from his experience of two years with Gen&

Clay in West Berlin administration, that "Russia respects our show
of strength, but that presently we're not acting as we should and
must". He called the Cuban tractor plan an outright blackmail
action, and noted that in war "you can't buy yourself out and
that's what we're trying to do". While he declined to suggest,
how, he said that sooner or later we must get rid of Castro,
"for unless we do we're liable to face similar situations in this
hemisphere. Its the start of a direct threat to our own security and
I don't believe we can permit that".

_NEW YORK (~AP)_- {Stock market Tuesday staged a technical

recovery, erasing all of Monday's losses in the Associated Press
average and making the largest gain in about two weeks.} Analysts
saw the move as a continuation of the recovery drive that got under
way late Monday afternoon when the list sank to a hoped-for "support
level" represented by around 675 in the Dow Jones industrial
average. It was a level at which some of the investors standing on
the sidelines were thought likely to buy the pivotal issues represented
in the averages.

#SOME GOOD NEWS#

Although it looked like a routine

technical snapback to Wall Streeters it was accompanied by some
good news. A substantial rise in new orders and sales of durable goods
was reported for last month. Treasury Secretary Douglas Dillon
said the economy is expected to advance by a whopping 8% next
year, paving the way for lower taxes. The Dow Jones industrial
average advanced 7.19 to 687.87. Of 1,253 issues traded, 695
advanced and 354 declined. New highs for the year totaled nine and
new lows 14. Trading was comparatively dull throughout the day.
Volume dipped to 3.28 million shares from 3.98 million Monday.

A $25 billion advertising budget in an $800 billion economy was

envisioned for the 1970s here Tuesday by Peter G& Peterson, head
of one of the world's greatest camera firms, in a key address before
the American Marketing Assn&. However, Peterson, president
of Bell + Howell, warned 800 U&S& marketing leaders attending
a national conference at the Ambassador, that the future will
belong to the industrialist of creative and "unconventional wisdom".

#CREATION'S NEEDED#

"As we look to the $800 billion economy

that is predicted for 1970 and the increase of about 40% in consumer
expenditures that will be required to reach that goal, management
can well be restless about how this tremendous volume and number of new
products will be created and marketed", Peterson said. "With
this kind of new product log-jam, the premium for brilliant
product
planning will obviously go up geometrically". The executive
paid tribute to research and development and technology for their
great contributions in the past, but he also cautioned industry that
they tend to be great equalizers because they move at a fairly even pace
within an industry and fail to give it the short-term advantage which
it often needs.

#NOTHING TO FEAR#

Peterson said America has nothing

to fear in world competition if it dares to be original in both
marketing and product ideas. He cited, as an example, how the American
camera industry has been able to meet successfully the competition
of Japan despite lower Japanese labor costs, by improving its production
know-how and technology. He also used as an example the
manufacturer who introduced an all-automatic camera in Germany, with
the result that it became the best selling camera in the German
market.

Election of Howard L& Taylor to membership in Pacific Coast

Stock Exchange, effective Tuesday, has been announced by Thomas
P& Phelan, president of the exchange. Taylor, president
and voting stockholder of Taylor and Co&, Beverly Hills, has been
active in the securities business since 1925.

Union Oil Co& of California Tuesday offered $120 million

in debentures to the public through a group of underwriters headed by
Dillon, Read + Co&, to raise money to retire a similar amount held
by Gulf Oil Corp&. Gulf's holdings could have been converted
into 2,700,877 shares of Union Oil common upon surrender of
debentures plus cash, according to Union. Under the new offering, only
$60 million in debentures are convertible into 923,076 common shares.

#DUE IN 1986#

The new offering Tuesday consisted of $60 million

worth of 4-7/8 debentures, due June 1, 1986, at 100%, and $60
million of 4-1/2% convertible subordinated debentures due June 1, 1991,
at 100%. The convertible debentures are convertible into common
shares at $65 a share by June 1, 1966; $70 by 1971; $75 by 1976;
$80 by 1981; $85 by 1986, and $90 thereafter.

_NEW YORK(~AP)_- American Stock Exchange prices enjoyed a fairly

solid rise but here also trading dwindled. Volume was 1.23 million
shares, down from Monday's 1.58 million. Gains of 2-3/4 were posted
for Teleprompter and Republic Foil. Fairchild Camera and Kawecki
Chemical gained 2-1/2 each.

_QUESTION_- I bought 50 shares of Diversified Growth Stock Fund

on Oct& 23, 1959, and 50 more shares of the same mutual fund on
Feb& 8, 1960. Something has gone wrong some place. I am getting
dividends on only 50 shares. In other words, I am getting only half
the dividends I should. _ANSWER_- Write to the fund's custodian
bank- the First National Bank of Jersey City, N&J&.
That bank handles most of the paper work for Diversified Growth Stock
Fund, Fundamental Investors, Diversified Investment Fund and
Television-Electronics Fund. The bank installed a magnetic
tape electronic data processing system to handle things. But it seems
that this "electronic brain" wasn't "programmed" correctly.

This resulted in a great number of errors. And letters began

to come in to this column from irate shareholders. I visited
the bank in March and wrote a story about the situation. At that time,
the people at the bank said they felt that they had the situation
in hand. They indicated that no new errors were being made and that all
old errors would be corrected
"within 60 days". That 60-day
period is over and letters are still coming in from shareholders of
these four funds, complaining about mistakes in their accounts.
Maybe it's taking longer to get things squared away than the bankers
expected. Any shareholder of any of these funds who finds a mistake
in his account certainly should get in touch with the bank. {Doyle
cannot undertake to reply to inquiries. He selects queries or
general interest to answer}.

_WASHINGTON (~AP)_- Alfred Hayes, president of the Federal

Reserve Bank of New York, said Tuesday "there is no present need
for far-reaching reforms" which would basically alter the international
financial system. Hayes said that if a way can be found
to deal effectively with short-term capital movements between nations,
"there is no reason, in my judgment why the international financial
system cannot work satisfactorily for at least the foreseeable
future".

_WASHINGTON (~UPI)_- New York Central Railroad president Alfred

E& Perlman said Tuesday his line would face the threat of
bankruptcy if the Chesapeake + Ohio and Baltimore + Ohio Railroads
merge. Perlman said bankruptcy would not be an immediate effect
of the merger, but could possibly be an ultimate effect. The
railroad president made the statement in an interview as the Interstate
Commerce Commission opened Round 2 of its hearing into the ~C+~O's
request to control and then merge with the ~B+~O.

"All these kind of things weaken us", Perlman said.

#BAD
CONDITION#

Board Chairman Howard Simpson of the Baltimore + Ohio

Railroad Co&, testified the ~B+~O was in its worst financial
condition since the depression years and badly needed the economic
lift it would get from consolidation with the Chesapeake + Ohio Railroad.

"The financial situation of the Baltimore + Ohio,

has become precarious- much worse than at any time since the depression
of the 1930s", he told the hearing. ~C+~O president
Walter J& Tuohy was summoned back for cross-examination by New
York Central attorneys before examiner John Bradford who is hearing
the complex case. The New York Central also has asked the
~ICC to permit it to gain control of the ~B+~O. Central
was rebuffed by the other two railroads in previous attempts to
make it a three-way merger. The proposed ~C+~O-~B+~O railroad
would make it the hemisphere's second largest.
_WASHINGTON (~AP)_- The government's short-term borrowing costs
rose with Tuesday weekly offering of Treasury bills. On $1.1 billion
of 90-day bills, the average yield was 2.325%. The rate a week
ago was 2.295%.

_WASHINGTON, MARCH 11 (~UPI)._- "Consumer uncertain about economic

conditions". This was the chief reason for a so-so sales
outlook given by two-thirds of 56 builders polled by the National
Housing Center. Other reasons mentioned by one-third or more
of the builders were "resistance to high interest rates, cost advantage
of buying over renting has narrowed, shelter market nearing saturation
and prospects unable to qualify".

#INCREASE EXPECTED#

The
poll was taken at the Center's annual builders' intentions conference.
It disclosed that the builders: Expect their own production
volume, and presumably sales, to jump 30 percent in 1961.

Look for home building nationally to advance less than 10 percent

this year from 1960's 1,257,7000 non-farm housing starts. The industry
has said 1960 was a poor year. Starts were down 20 percent from
1959. Why the discrepancy between the builders' forecasts for
themselves and for the industry?

#LEADERS OF INDUSTRY#

The
reason, says the Housing Center, is that the builders invited to the
intentions conference "are generally among the more successful businessmen,
and usually do somewhat better than their fellow builders".

_ELBURN, ILL&_- Farm machinery dealer Bob Houtz tilts back

in a battered chair and tells of a sharp pickup in sales: "We've
sold four corn pickers since Labor Day and have good prospects for
10 more. We sold only four pickers all last year". Gus Ehlers,
competitor of Mr& Houtz in this farm community, says his business
since August 1 is running 50% above a year earlier. "Before
then, my sales during much of the year had lagged behind 1960 by 20%",
he says. Though the sales gains these two dealers are
experiencing are above average for their business, farm equipment sales
are climbing in most rural areas. Paradoxically, the sales rise is
due in large
measure to Government efforts to slash farm output. Although
the Administration's program cut crop acreage to the lowest point
since 1934, farmers, with the help of extra fertilizer and good weather,
are getting such high yields per acre that many are being forced
to buy new harvesting machines. Fields of corn and some other crops
in many cases are so dense that older equipment cannot handle them
efficiently.
The higher price supports provided by the new legislation,
together with rising prices for farm products, are pushing up farm income,
making it possible for farmers to afford the new machinery.

Seven of the eight companies that turn out full lines of farm machinery
say sales by their dealers since the start of August have shown
gains averaging nearly 10% above last year. "In August our dealers
sold 13% more farm machinery than a year earlier and in September
retail sales were 14% higher than last year", says Mark V&
Keeler, farm equipment vice president of International Harvester
Co&. For the year to date, sales of the company's farm equipment
dealers still lag about 5% behind 1960.

#TWO OF THREE REPORT GAINS#

Among individual dealers questioned in nearly a score of states,

two out of three report their sales since August 1 show sizable gains
from a year earlier, with the increases ranging from 5% to 50%.
Not all sections are showing an upswing, however; the drought-seared
North Central states are the most notable exceptions to the uptrend.

The significance of the pickup in farm machinery sales extends

beyond the farm equipment industry. The demand for farm machinery
is regarded as a yardstick of rural buying generally. Farmers spend
more of their income on tractors and implements than on any other group
of products. More than 20 million people live on farms and they own
a fourth of the nation's trucks, buy more gasoline than any other
industry and provide a major market for home appliances, chemicals and
other products. Farmers are so eager for new machinery that
they're haggling less over prices than they did a year ago, dealers
report. "Farmers aren't as price conscious as last year so
we can get more money on a sale", says Jack Martin, who sells J&
I& Case tractors and implements in Sioux City, Iowa. "This
morning, we allowed a farmer $600 on the old picker he traded in on
a new $2,700 model. Last year, we probably would have given him $700
for a comparable machine". Mr& Martin sold 21 tractors in August;
in August of 1960, he sold seven.

#DEALERS' STOCKS DOWN#

With dealer stocks of new equipment averaging about 25% below a year
ago, the affects of the rural recovery are being felt almost immediately
by the country's farm equipment manufacturers. For example, farm
equipment shipments of International Harvester in August climbed
about 5% above a year earlier, Mr& Keeler reports. Tractor
production at Massey-Ferguson, Ltd&, of Toronto in July and
August rose to 2,418 units from 869 in the like period a year earlier,
says John Staiger, vice president. With the lower dealer
inventories and the stepped-up demand some manufacturers believe there
could be shortages of some implements. Merritt D& Hill, Ford Motor
Co& vice president, says his company is starting to get calls
daily from dealers demanding immediate delivery or wanting earlier shipping
dates on orders for corn pickers. Except for a few months
in late 1960 and early 1961, retail farm equipment sales have trailed
year-earlier levels since the latter part of 1959. The rise in sales
last winter was checked when the Government's new feed grain program
was adopted; the program resulted in a cutback of around 20%
in
planted acreage and, as a result, reduced the immediate need for machines.

Nearly all of the farm equipment manufacturers and dealers

say the upturn in sales has resulted chiefly from the recent improvement
in crop prospects. Total farm output for this year is officially
forecast at 129% of the 1947-49 average, three points higher than
the July 1 estimate and exactly equal to the final figure for 1960.

The Government also is aiding farmers' income prospects. Agriculture

Department economists estimate the Government this year will
hand farmers $1.4 billion in special subsidies and incentive payments,
well above the record $1.1 billion of 1958 and about double the $639
million of 1960. Price support loans may total another $1 billion
this year. With cash receipts from marketings expected to be slightly
above 1960, farmers' gross income is estimated at $39.5 billion, $1.5
billion above 1960's record high. Net income may reach $12.7 billion,
up $1 billion from 1960 and the highest since 1953. The Government
reported last week that the index of prices received by farmers
rose in the month ended at mid-September for the third consecutive month,
reaching 242% of the 1910-14 average compared with 237% at mid-July.

{KENNEDY OPPOSES any widespread relief from a High Court

depletion ruling.} The Supreme Court decision in mid-1960
was in the case of a company making sewer pipe from clay which it
mined. The company, in figuring its taxable earnings, deducted a percentage
of the revenue it received for its finished products. Such "depletion
allowances", in the form of percentages of sales are authorized
by tax law for specified raw materials producers using up their
assets. The High Court held that the company must apply its percentage
allowance to the value of the raw materials removed from the ground,
not to the revenue from finished products. A measure passed
by Congress just before adjourning softened the ruling's impact, on
prior-year returns still under review, for clay-mining companies that
make brick and tile products. The measure allows such companies in
those years to apply their mineral depletion allowances to 50% of the
value of the finished products rather than the lower value of raw clay
alone. <President Kennedy, in signing the relief measure
into law, stressed he regarded it as an exception. "My approval of
this bill should not be viewed as establishing a precedent for the enactment
of similar legislation for other mineral industries", the President
said>. #@#

{CHARITABLE DEDUCTIONS come in for

closer scrutiny by the I&R&S&.} The Service announced
that taxpayers making such claims may be called on to furnish a statement
from the recipient organization showing the date, purpose, amount
and other particulars of the contribution. Requests for substantiation,
the Service indicated, can be especially expected in cases where
it suspects the donor received some material benefit in return, such
as tickets to a show. In such instance, revenuers stressed,
the deduction must be reduced by the value of the benefit received. #@#

A RULE on the Federal deductibility of state taxes

is contested.} A realty corporation in Louisiana owed no tax
under Federal law, on its gain from the sale of property disposed
of in line with a plan of liquidation. Louisiana, however, collected
an income tax on the profits from the sale. The corporation, in filing
its final Federal income return, claimed the state tax payment as a
deductible expense, as permitted under U&S& tax law. The
Revenue Service disallowed the claim, invoking a law provision that
generally bars deductions
for expenses incurred in connection with what
it said was tax-exempt income. The Tax Court rejected this view.
It said the tax-freedom of the gain in this case stemmed not from the
exempt status of the income but from a special rule on corporate liquidations.

<The Tax Court decision and a similar earlier finding

by the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals challenges a year-old
I&R&S& ruling on the subject. The Service has not said what
its next step will be>. #@#

{PEACE CORPS VOLUNTEERS}

are assured a tax benefit under the law creating the agency. It provides
that the $1,800 termination payment each cadet is to get, after
serving a two-year hitch without pay, will be spread over both years,
not taxed in its entirety at a possibly higher rate in the year received.#@#

THE OWNER} of a public relations firm owed no

income tax on payments he received from a client company and "kicked
back" to the company's advertising manager, the Tax Court ruled.
The taxpayer testified that in order to retain the account he had
to pad his invoices and pay the excess to the manager. The Court upheld
the taxpayer's contention that these "kickbacks" were not his
income though they passed through his hands. The Court limited its
decision to the tax issue involved, commenting: "It is not our province
to pass judgment on the morality of the transaction". #@#

A PORTABLE KEROSENE RANGE} designed for use aboard boats

is sold with a special railing to keep it from moving with the motion
of the vessel. The Revenue Service said the addition of the attachment
does not keep the range from coming under the Federal manufacturers'
excise tax on household-type appliances. #@#

{HIRING
THE WIFE for one's company may win her tax-aided retirement income}.

A spouse employed by a corporation her husband controls,

for example, may be entitled to distributions under the company's
pension plan as well as to her own Social Security coverage. She would
be taxed on the pensions when received, of course, but the company's
contributions would be tax-free. A frequent pitfall in this
sort of arrangement, experts warn, is a tendency to pay the wife more
than her job is worth and to set aside an excessive amount for her
as retirement income. In that event, they note, the Revenue Service
might declare the pension plan is discriminatory and deny it tax privileges
under the law. <Possible upshots: The company could
be denied a deduction for its pension payments, or those payments for
the wife and other employes could be ruled taxable to them in the year
made>. #@#

{STATE BRIEFS:} Voters in four counties

containing and bordering Denver authorized the imposition of an additional
2% sales tax within that area. Colorado has a 2% sales
tax. Denver itself collects a 1% sales tax which is to be absorbed
in the higher area tax **h. The Washington state supreme court ruled
that the state's occupation tax applied to sales, made at cost to an
oil company, by a wholly-owned subsidiary set up to purchase certain
supplies without divulging the identity of the parent. The state's
occupation tax is computed on gross sales. The court held that the tax
applied to non-profit sales because the corporations realized economic
benefits by doing business as two separate entities.

_WASHINGTON_- Consumer spending edged down in April after rising

for two consecutive months, the Government reported. The Commerce
Department said seasonally adjusted sales of retail stores dropped
to slightly under $18 billion in April, down 1% from the March
level of more than $18.2 billion. April sales also were 5% below
those of April last year, when volume reached a record for any month,
$18.9 billion (see chart on Page One). The seasonal adjustment
takes into account such factors as Easter was on April 2 this
year, two weeks earlier than in 1960, and pre-Easter buying was pushed
into March. Commerce Department officials were inclined to
explain the April sales decline as a reaction from a surge of consumer
buying in March. Adjusted sales that month were up a relatively
steep 2.5% from those of the month before, which in turn were slightly
higher than the January low of $17.8 billion.

Greer Garson world-famous star of stage, screen and television,

will be honored for the high standard in tasteful sophisticated fashion
with which she has created a high standard in her profession.

As a Neiman-Marcus award winner the titian-haired Miss Garson

is a personification of the individual look so important to fashion
this season. She will receive the 1961 "Oscar" at the 24th annual
Neiman-Marcus Exposition, Tuesday and Wednesday in the Grand
Ballroom of the Sheraton-Dallas Hotel. ##

{THE ONLY WOMAN}

recipient, Miss Garson will receive the award with Ferdinando
Sarmi, creator of chic, beautiful women's fashions; Harry Rolnick,
president of the Byer-Rolnick Hat Corporation and designer
of men's hats; Sydney Wragge, creator of sophisticated casuals
for women and Roger Vivier, designer of Christian Dior shoes Paris,
France, whose squared toes and lowered heels have revolutionized
the shoe industry. The silver and ebony plaques will be presented
at noon luncheons by Stanley Marcus, president of Neiman-Marcus,
Beneficiary of the proceeds from the two showings will be the Dallas
Society for Crippled Children Cerebral Palsy Treatment Center.

The attractive Greer Garson, who loves beautiful clothes

and selects them as carefully as she does her professional roles, prefers
timeless classical designs. Occasionally she deserts the simple
and elegant for a fun piece simple because "It's unlike me". ##
{IN PRIVATE LIFE}, Miss Garson is Mrs& E& E&
Fogelson and on the go most of the time commuting from Dallas,
where
they maintain an apartment, to their California home in Los Angeles'
suburban Bel-Air to their ranch in Pecos, New Mexico. Therefore,
her wardrobe is largely mobile, to be packed at a moment's notice
and to shake out without a wrinkle. Her creations in fashion
are from many designers because she doesn't want a complete wardrobe
from any one designer any more than she wants "all of her pictures
by one painter". ##

{A FAVORITE} is Norman Norell,

however. She likes his classic chemise. Her favorite cocktail dress
is a Norell, a black and white organdy and silk jersey. Irene
suits rate high because they are designed for her long-bodied silhouette.
She also likes the femininity
and charm of designs by Ceil Chapman
and Helen Rose. Balenciaga is her favorite European
designer. "I bought my first dress from him when I was still
a struggling young actress", she reminisces. "I like his clothes
for their drama and simplicity and appreciate the great impact he has
on fashion". ##
{BLACK AND WHITE} is her favorite color
combination along with lively glowing pinks, reds, blues and greens.

Of Scotch-Irish-Scandinavian descent, Greer Garson was

born in County Down, Ireland. Her mother was a Greer and her father's
family came from the Orkney Isles. Reared in England,
she studied to be a teacher, earned several scholarships and was graduated
with honors from the University of London. She took postgraduate
work at the University of Grenoble in France and then returned
to London to work on market research with an advertising firm. ##
{HER ACTING} began with the Birmingham Repertory Company
and she soon became the toast of the West End. Among stage performances
was a starring role in "Golden Arrow" directed by Noel
Coward. It was during "Old Music" at the St& James Theater
that Hollywood's Louis B& Mayer spotted her. After
signing a motion-picture contract, she came to America and had "Goodbye,
Mr& Chips" as her first assignment after a year's wait.
Other triumphs include "Random Harvest", "Madame Curie",
"Pride and Prejudice", "The Forsythe Saga" and "Mrs&
Miniver" (which won her the Academy Award in 1943). ##

{HONORS}
that have come to Greer Garson are countless. Just this
April she was nominated for the seventh time for an Academy Award
for her portrayal of Eleanor Roosevelt in "Sunrise at Campobello".
She gave a fine portrayal of Auntie Mame on Broadway in 1958
and has appeared in live television from "Captain Brassbound's
Conversion" to "Camille". She is in Madame Tussard's Waxworks
in London, a princess of the Kiowa tribe and an honorary colonel
in many states. She is adept at skeet shooting, trout fishing,
Afro-Cuban and Oriental dancing and Southwestern archaeology.
She now serves on the board of directors of the Dallas Symphony
Orchestra and the Dallas Theater Center and on the board of trustees
of the Dallas Museum of Fine Arts. She is state chairman for
the New Mexico Tuberculosis and Cancer Associations. Both Miss
Garson and her oilman-rancher husband are active supporters of Boys
Clubs of America and patrons of the vivid art and opera colony that
flourishes in New Mexico.

Back in college, today's handsome Gander was the only male

member of a Texas Tech class on food. The pretty coeds must have ogled
him all day long- but he dutifully kept his eye on the gravy.

Last October he gave a public speech in Washington, D&C&

entitled "Are Women Here to Stay"? So you can see that Gerald
G& Ramsey, director of ~SMU's food services, is not the
ordinary type of craven, women-trodden chef. He is apt to rear back
and claim his rights. ##

{RAMSEY}, as ~SMU's food

wrangler, buys enough groceries to serve 32,000 meals a week. Tell
that to the little wife when she moans at the woman's burden!

He also dishes up 3,000 snacks. And he operates three cafeterias

in the Student Center, along with McElvaney Dining Hall and the
athlete's tables. Ramsey, 6-3, 195 and ruggedly slim, says,
"I can't remember when I didn't pester my mother to teach me
to cook". ##
{HE WAS IN CHARGE} of the Hockaday School
meals from 1946 to 1950, before he moved to ~SMU. And you'll
notice that in both places, there are acres of charming young ladies
who with little effort spice up any chow line. What does he feed
his ~SMU football mastodons at the training table? "Mostly
meat and potatoes- they have to have that go-go-go without
getting too fat", says Ramsey. So he hides the mayonnaise. And to
keep athletes' stomachs from getting jumpy under physical duress,
he bans all highly flavored condiments. ##

{WHAT DO} the

pretty ~SMU girls like on their plates? "Pretty much
hamburger, hotdogs, steak and, at night, maybe pizza", says the handsome
food expert. "Unfortunately, there is still little demand for
broccoli and cauliflower". Ramsey has stoked up Harry Truman,
Henry Cabot Lodge, the King of Morocco, Clement Atlee and
other shiny characters. Once four Tibetan monks, in their saffron robes,
filed through the cafeteria line. "They aren't supposed
to look at women, you know", Ramsey recalled. "What with all
those pretty girls around, they had a hard time".

#CHICKEN CADILLAC#

Use one 6-ounce chicken breast for each guest. Salt and pepper
each breast. Dip in melted butter and roll in flour. Place side by
side in a 2-inch deep baking pan. Bake slowly about one hour at 250-275
F& until lightly brown. Add enough warmed cream, seasoned
to taste with onion juice, to about half cover the chicken breasts.
Bake slowly at least one-half hour longer. While this is baking,
saute mushrooms, fresh or canned, in butter. Sprinkle over top
of chicken breasts. Serve each breast on a thin slice of slow-baked ham
and sprinkle with Thompson seedless grapes. (Leave off the
ham and you call it Chicken Pontiac, says Ramsey.)

Contemporary furniture that is neither Danish nor straight-line

modern but has sculptured pattern, many design facets, warmth, dignity
and an effect of utter comfort and livability. That is the
goal of two new collections being introduced in Dallas this month.

Though there has been some avant garde indication that contemporary
furniture might go back to the boxy look of the '20's and '40's,
two manufacturers chose to take the approach of the sophisticated,
but warm look in contemporary. These two, Heritage and Drexel,
chose too not to produce the exactly matching design for every piece,
but a collection of correlated designs, each of which could stand alone.

The Heritage collection, to be shown by Sanger-Harris and

Anderson's Studio, has perhaps more different types of woods and
decorations than any one manufacturer ever assembled together at one
time. Called Perennian, to indicate its lasting, good today and tomorrow
quality, the collection truly avoids the monotony of identical pieces.

Walnut, wormy chestnut, pecan, three varieties of burl,

hand-woven Philippine cane, ceramic tiles, marble are used to emphasize
the feeling of texture and of permanence, the furniture to fit into
rooms with tiled floors, brick or paneled walls, windows that bring
in the outdoors. It is a collection with a custom-design look, offering
simplicity with warmth, variety and vitality. The Drexel collection,
called Composite, to be shown by Titche's offers a realistic
approach to decorating, a mature modern that is a variation of many
designs. Rounded posts give a soft, sculptured look, paneled
doors have decorative burl panels or cane insets plus softening arches,
table tops are inlaid in Macassar ebony or acacia. A high-legged
buffet provides easy-to-reach serving, a cocktail table has small snack
tables tucked under each end, recessed arched panels decorate a 60-inch
long chest. An interesting approach to the bedroom is presented,
with a young, basic, functional group of chests, dressers and
corner units and a canted headboard. The other bedroom has heavier styling,
door-fronted dressers with acacia panels, a poster bed or a bed
with arched acacia panels and matching mirror. Colorful, bright
Eastman Chromspun fabrics, with the magenta, pink and white tones
predominating as well as golden shades are used with Composite. The
fabrics have Scotchgard finish to resist soil and wrinkles.
Design elements closely rooted to traditional forms but wearing a definite
contemporary label keynote Drexel's fall 1961 group, Composite.
The spider-leg pedestal table has a base finished in an ebony, to
set off the lustrous brown of the walnut top. See-through design of
the chairs combines both the nostalgic ladder back and an Oriental shoji
flavor. To bring warmth to the dining area, golden orange tones
are used in the fabrics. Dignity and comfort, in a contemporary
manner, reflecting the best aspects of today's design, with substance
and maturity, keynote the Perennian collection from Heritage. Center
panel, hand-screened wood, actually is a back of one of the tall
bookcases. Mellow bronzy-green-gold fabrics and the gleam of copper
and hand-crafted ceramic accessories reiterate the mood as does the Alexander
Smith carpet in all wool loop pile.

The Vagabonds are "on the road" again. Members are on their
way to Saledo, not by stage coach, but in air-conditioned cars.

This coming weekend they have reserved the entire Stagecoach Inn
and adjoining country club, Saledo, for festivities. Invitations
have been extended to some Austin dignitaries including Gov& and
Mrs& Price Daniel. Stagecoach Days is the theme for the
weekend on the Old Chisholm Trail. ##

{THE GET-TOGETHER}
Friday night will be a banquet at the country club patio and pool,
and an orchestra will play for dancing. Guests will wear costumes
typical of the Chisholm Trail Days. Ginghams and calico will
be popular dress for the women. The men will be in western attire,
including Stetsons and colored vests. ##

{DECORATING}
the ballroom
will be the yellow rose of Texas, in tall bushes; bluebonnets
and stagecoach silhouettes. There will be a large drawing of a sunbonnet
girl with eyes that flash at the guests. Mr& and Mrs&
Phil G& Abell are chairmen for the Saledo trip. Committee members
aiding them in planning the entertainment are ~Messrs and ~Mmes
Roy McKee, George McElyee, Jack Fanning, W& H& Roquemore
and Joe Darrow. ##

{THE TRAVEL CLUB} is comprised of

75 fun-loving couples who have as their motto "Go Somewhere, Anywhere,
Everywhere". Their activities will be climaxed in the spring
of 1962 when they go to Europe. In the past, the men and women
have chartered planes to Las Vegas and Jamaica, buses to Mineral
Wells and Kerrville and private railway coaches to Shreveport and
Galveston. Four parties are given a year. Two of these are
in or near Dallas and the others away from the vicinity. Serving
on the club's board are ~Mmes R& P& Anderson, president;
A& F& Schmalzried, secretary; W& H& Roquemore,
treasurer, and the following chairmen: ~Mmes McKee, publicity;
Lawrence B& Jones, yearbook, and Sam Laughlin, scrapbook.

A cooky with caramel filling and chocolate frosting won $25,000

for a Minneapolis housewife in the 13th annual Pillsbury Bake-Off
Tuesday. Mrs& Alice H& Reese, wife of an engineer and
mother of a 23-year-old son, was awarded the top prize at a luncheon
in the Beverly Hilton Hotel. Mrs& Reese entered 10 past bake-offs
before she got into the finals. Second grand prize
of $5,000 went to Mrs& Clara L& Oliver for her Hawaiian coffee
ring, a rich yeast bread with coconut filling and vanilla glaze.

#MOTHER
OF FIVE#

Mrs& Oliver is mother of five children and wife

of a machinist. She lives in Wellsville, Mo&. Mrs& Reese
baked her cookies for only the third time in the Bake-off finals.
And the third time was the charm. She dreamed up the cooky recipe,
tried it, liked it and entered it in the contest. The second baking
was for photographing when told she was a finalist. The third time
was on the floor of the Beverly Hilton ballroom and for the critical
eyes and tongues of judges.

Mr& and Mrs& Joseph R& Bolker will give a dinner

on Friday at their home in Beverly Hills to honor Mrs& Norman Chandler,
chairman of the Music Center Building Fund Committee, and
Mr& Chandler. Mr& Bolker heads a group within the building
and development industry to raise funds in support of this cultural
center for the performing arts. A feature of the party will
be a presentation by Welton Becket, center architect, of color slides
and renderings of the three-building complex.

#FOLIAGE WILL GLOW

AT FORMAL FALL PARTY#

Fall foliage and flowers will decorate Los

Angeles Country Club for the annual formal party Saturday evening.
More than 200 are expected at the autumn event which is matched in
the spring. Among those with reservations are Messrs& and
Mmes& William A& Thompson, Van Cott Niven, A& B& Cox,
David Bricker, Samuel Perry and Robert D& Stetson.
Others are Drs& and Mmes& Alfred Robbins, and J& Lafe Ludwig
and Gen& and Mrs& Leroy Watson.

#GUESTS FROM ACROSS U&S&

HONOR DR& SWIM#

When Dr& W& A& Swim celebrated his

75th birthday at the Wilshire Country Club, guests came by chartered
plane from all over the country. A flight originating in
Florida picked up guests on the East Coast and Midwest and a plane
left from Seattle taking on passengers at West Coast points.
Cocktails and a buffet supper were served to more than 100 persons
who had known Dr& Swim when he practiced in Los Angeles. He started
practice in 1917, and served on the State Board of Medical Examiners.

Giving up the violin opened a whole new career for Ilona Schmidl-Seeberg,
a tiny Hungarian who Fritz Kreisler had predicted would
have a promising career on the concert stage. A heart attack
when she was barely 20 put an end to the 10-hour daily practicing.
She put the violin away and took out some linen, needles and yarn to
while away the long, idle days in Budapest. Now her modern tapestries
have been exhibited on two continents and, at 26, she feels she
is on the threshold of a whole new life in Los Angeles. Her
days as an art student at the University of Budapest came to a sudden
end during the Hungarian uprisings in 1957 and she and her husband
Stephen fled to Vienna. There they continued their studies
at the university, she in art, he in architecture. And there she had
her first showing of tapestry work.

There's a lot of talk about the problem of education in America

today. What most people don't seem to realize, if they aren't
tied up with the thing as I am, is that 90% of the problem is transportation.

I never dreamed of the logistical difficulties involved

until, at long last, both of my boys got squeezed into high school.
It seems like only last year that we watched them set out up the
hill hand in hand on a rainy day in their yellow raincoats to finger-paint
at the grammar school. Getting to and from school was no
problem. They either walked or were driven. #@#

Now they go to
a high school that is two miles away. One might think the problem would
be similar. They could walk, ride on a bus or be driven.
It's much more complex than that. Generally, they go to school with
a girl named Gloriana, who lives down the block, and has a car.

This is a way of getting to school, but, I understand, it entails

a certain loss of social status. A young man doesn't like to be driven
up in front of a school in a car driven by a girl who isn't even
in a higher class than he is, and is also a girl. "Why don't
you walk to school then"? I suggested. "My father walked,
through two miles of snow, in Illinois". "Did you"?
I was asked. "No", I said, "I didn't happen to grow
up in Illinois". I explained, however, that I had my share
of hardship in making my daily pilgrimage to the feet of wisdom. #@#

I had to ride a streetcar two miles. Sometimes the streetcar

was late. Sometimes there weren't even any seats. I had to stand
up, with the ladies. Sometimes I got on the wrong car and didn't get
to school at all, but wound up at the ocean, or some other dismal place,
and had to spend the day there. I've tried to compromise
by letting them take the little car now and then. When they do that
my wife has to drive me to work in the big car. She has to have at
least one car herself. I feel a certain loss of status when I am driven
up in front of work in a car driven by my wife, who is only a woman.

Even that isn't satisfactory. If they have to take any car,

they'd rather take the big one. They say that when they take a
car, Gloriana doesn't take her car, but rides with them. But when
Gloriana rides with them they also have to take the two girls who usually
ride with her, so the little car isn't big enough. #@#

The
logic of that is impeccable, of course, except that I feel like a
fool being driven up to work in a little car, by my wife, when everybody
knows I have a big car and am capable of driving myself. The
solution, naturally, is the bus. However, it's a half-mile walk
down a steep hill from our house to the bus, and it's too hard on my
legs. My wife could drive us down the hill and we could all
walk
from there. But that's hardly realistic. Nobody walks any
more but crackpots and Harry Truman, and he's already got an education.

Advance publicity on the Los Angeles Blue Book does not mention
names dropped as did the notices for the New York Social Register
which made news last week. Published annually by William
Hord Richardson, the 1962 edition, subtitled Society Register of
Southern California, is scheduled to arrive with Monday morning's
postman. Publisher Richardson has updated the Blue Book "but
it still remains the compact reference book used by so many for
those ever-changing telephone numbers, addresses, other residences,
club
affiliations and marriages".

#STARS FOR MARRIAGE#

Stars throughout
the volume denote dates of marriages during the past year. Last
two to be added before the book went to press were the marriages of Meredith
Jane Cooper, daughter of the Grant B& Coopers, to Robert
Knox Worrell, and of Mary Alice Ghormley to Willard Pen Tudor.

Others are Carla Ruth Craig to Dan McFarland Chandler

Jr&;
Joanne Curry, daughter of the Ellsworth Currys, to James
Hartley Gregg, and Valerie Smith to James McAlister Duque.

Also noted are the marriages of Elizabeth Browning, daughter

of the George L& Brownings, to Austin C& Smith Jr&;
Cynthia
Flower, daughter of the Ludlow Flowers Jr&, to Todd Huntington,
son of the David Huntingtons.

#PASADENA LISTINGS#

Listed
as newly wed in the Pasadena section of the new book are Mr& and Mrs&
Samuel Moody Haskins /3,. She is the former Judy Chapman,
daughter of John S& Chapman of this city. The young couple live
in Pasadena. Another marriage of note is that of Jane McAlester
and William Louis Pfau. Changes in address are noted.

For instance, the Edwin Pauleys Jr&, formerly of Chantilly

Rd&, are now at home on North Arden Dr& in Beverly Hills.

Mr& and Mrs& Robert Moulton now live on Wilshire and the
Franklin Moultons on S& Windsor Blvd&. The Richard Beesemyers,
formerly of Connecticut, have returned to Southern California
and are now residing on South Arden Blvd&. But the Raoul Esnards
have exchanged their residence in Southern California for Mexico
City.

#MORE NEW ADDRESSES#

Judge and Mrs& Julian Hazard

are now at Laguna Beach, while the Frank Wangemans have moved from
Beverly Hills to New York, where he is general manager of the Waldorf-Astoria
Hotel. And Lawrence Chase, son of the Ransom Chases,
is listed at his new address in Oxford, Eng&. Others
listed at new addresses are the Richard T& Olerichs, the Joseph
Aderholds Jr&, the Henri de la Chapelles, the John Berteros and
Dr& and Mrs& Egerton Crispin, the John Armisteads, the Allen
Chases, the Howard Lockies, the Thomas Lockies, and Anthony
Longinotti. Newcomers of social note from other parts of the
country are the Ray Carbones, formerly of Panama; the Geddes MacGregors,
formerly of Scotland, and Mr& and Mrs& Werner H&
Althaus, formerly of Switzerland.

HERE'S an idea for a child's room that is easy to execute

and is completely charming, using puppets for lamp bases. Most children
love the animated puppet faces and their flexible bodies, and
they prefer to see them as though the puppets were in action, rather than
put away in boxes. Displayed as lamps, the puppets delight the children
and are decorative accent. To create such a lamp, order
a wired pedestal from any lamp shop. Measure the puppet to determine
the height of the light socket, allowing three to four inches above the
puppet's head. Make sure that the metal tube through which the wire
passes is in the shape of an inverted "~L", the foot of the
"~L" about three inches long, so that the puppet can hang directly
under the light.

#PULLING STRINGS#

Using the strings that manipulate

the puppet, suspend him from the light fixture by tying the
strings to the lamp base. In this way, you can arrange his legs and arms
in any desired position, with feet, or one foot, barely resting on
the pedestal. If the puppets are of uniform size, you can change them
in accord with your child's whims. Although a straight drum
shade would be adequate and sufficiently neutral that the puppets could
be changed without disharmony, it is far more fun to create shades
in the gay spirit of a child's playtime. Those illustrated are reminiscent
of a circus top or a merry-go-round. The scalloped edge is particularly
appealing.

TODAY'S trend toward furniture designs from America's

past is teaching home-owners and decorators a renewed respect for the
shrewd cabinetmakers of our Colonial era. A generation ago
there were plenty of people who appreciated antiques and fine reproductions.
In the background lurked the feeling, however, that these pieces,
beautiful as they were, lacked the utilitarian touch. So junior's
bedroom was usually tricked out with heavy, nondescript pieces that
supposedly could take the "hard knocks", while the fine secretary
was relegated to the parlor where it was for show only. This
isn't true of the many homemakers of the 1960's, according to decorator
consultant, Leland Alden. Housewives are finding literally
hundreds of ways of getting the maximum use out of traditional designs,
says Mr& Alden and they are doing it largely because Colonial
craftsmen had "an innate sense of the practical".

#SOLID INVESTMENT#

There are a number of reasons why the Eighteenth Century

designer had to develop "down to earth" designs- or go out of
business.

{HOTEL ESCAPE'S} Bonanza room has a real bonanza in

its new attraction, the versatile "Kings /4, Plus Two".

This is the strongest act to hit the area in a long while- a well
integrated, fast moving outfit specializing in skits, vocals, comedy
and instrumentals all of it distinctly displaying the pro touch.

{Show spotlights the Kings- George Worth, Bill Kay, Frank

Ciciulla and Gene Wilson, flanked by Dave Grossman and Ron Stevens}.

The plus two remain at a fixed position with drums

and guitar but the quartet covers the stage with a batch of instruments
ranging from tuba to tambourine, and the beat is solid. {In
the comedy division, the Kings simply augmenting talent and imagination
with a few props. Net result is some crazy-wonderful nonsense, part
of which can be classed as pure slapstick}. Kings /4,
have rated as a popular act in Vegas and Western nightclubs. If they
can't chalk up BIG business here then let's stop this noise
about how hip we are, and stick to our community singing, @

#ELSEWHERE#
{ANDY BARTHA} and his trio have booked into Oceania Lounge
**h the Cumbancheros, Latin combo, open Tuesday at the Four O'Clock
Club **h "Flip" Phillips for a return engagement at Fireside
Steak Ranch Wednesday; same date, Johnny LaSalle trio to
the Jolly Roger **h Dick Carroll and his accordion (which we now
refer to as "Freida") held over at Bahia Cabana where "Sir"
Judson Smith brings in his calypso capers Oct& 13. {Johnny
Leighton picked up some new numbers out in Texas which he's
springing on the ringsiders in the Rum House at Galt Ocean Mile
Hotel}. "Skip" Hovarter back in town from a summer in
the Reno-Lake Tahoe area where he ran into Rusty Warren, Kay Martin,
the Marskmen and Tune Toppers- all pulling good biz, he says.
@

#WE LIKE FIKE#

{AL FIKE}, an ex-schoolteacher from

Colorado, is currently pursuing the three ~R's- rhythm, reminiscence
and repartee- in a return class session at the Trade Winds
Hotel. Al has added some sidemen to the act which makes for
a smoother operation but it's substantially the same format heard
last spring. {Newcomers are Ernie Kemm on piano, Wes Robbins,
bass and trumpet, and Jack Kelly on drums. It's a solid show
but, except for some interim keyboarding by Ernie, it's Al's
all the way}. Maestro's biggest stock in trade is his personality,
and ability to establish a warm rapport with his audience. He
skips around from jazz, to blues to boogie- accompanying himself on
piano and frequently pulling the customers in on the act. This
is a bouncy show which may get a little too frantic at times, but is
nevertheless worth your appraisal.
#NEW OWNERS#

{CAFE SOCIETY}
opens formally this afternoon under its new ownership. George
Kissak is the bossman; Terry Barnes has been named manager.

Spot retains the same decor although crystal chandeliers have been
installed above the terrace dining area, and the kitchen has undergone
a remodeling job. {Latter domain, under the guidance of
Chef Tom Yokel, will specialize in steaks, chops, chicken and prime
beef as well as Tom's favorite dish, stuffed shrimp}. Bandstand
features Hal DeCicco, pianist, for both dinner hour and the
late trade. The Tic-Tac-Toe trio is the club's new show group
which also plays for dancing. @

#HERE AND THERE#

{HERBERT
HEILMAN} in
town for a day. Hubie's restaurant activities up in
Lorain, Ohio, may preclude his return here until after Oct& 20,
date set for reopening the Heilman Restaurant on Sunman Restaurant
on Sunrise **h {Louise Franklin cornering the gift shop
market in Lauderdale. Vivacious redhead debuts another shop, her sixth,
in the Governor's Club Hotel this week} **h Sunday
New Orleans brunches continue at the Trade Winds but the daily French
buffets have been called off **h Mackey Airline's new
Sunshine Inn at Bimini set to open some time this month, according
to Hank Johnson **h Student Prince Lounge on Atlantic
Blvd& plotting a month-long "festival" throughout October, with
special features **h {Don Drinkhouse of Pal's Restaurant
planning a reunion with the Miami Playboy Club's pianist, Julian
Gould. Two were in the same band 18 years ago; Don, who played
drums, hasn't seen his chum since} **h Steak House has
such a run on beer to wash down that Mexican food "Tex" Burgess
had to call the draft man twice in one day. (Which is understandable-
if you've ever sampled the exotic, peppery fare.) @

#FACES
IN PLACES#

{PUALANI} and Randy Avon, Dave Searles, George

(Papa) Gill, Al Bandish, Jim Morgart, Bob Neil at the Mouse
trap **h Billy and Jean Moffett at the Rickshaw **h Bea Morley,
Jimmy Fazio, Jim O'Hare, Ralph Michaels, Bill and Evelyn
Perry at the Escape. @

#MURPHY HONORS#

{HEAR THAT}
Patricia Murphy flies up to St& John's Newfoundland, next Sunday
to attend the government's special ceremonies at Memorial University
honoring distinguished sons and daughters of the island province.

Miss Murphy was born in Placentia, Newfoundland. Her

invitation from Premier Joseph Smallwood is reported to be the only
one extended to a woman.
_FORT LAUDERDALE_- The first in a series of five productions will
be held in War Memorial Auditorium Thursday, Oct& 26.

"Le Theatre D'Art Du Ballet", of Monte Carlo, will present

a program of four ballets including "Francesca Da Rimini".
Performers include a company of 46 dancers and a symphony orchestra.

{The series of ballets is sponsored by the Milenoff Ballet

Foundation, Inc&, a non-profit foundation with headquarters in Coral
Gables}. Also set for appearances at the auditorium this
season are: "American Ballet Theatre" on Jan& 27, "Ximenez-Vargas
Ballet Espagnol" on Feb& 2; Jorge Bolet, pianist,
on Feb& 23; and "Dancers of Bali" on March 8.

_HOLLYWOOD_- A Southeast Library Workshop will be held here

Oct& 9, conducted by Mrs& Gretchen Schenk of Summerdale, Ala&,
author, lecturer and library leader. The workshop will begin
at 10 a&m& and end at 3 p&m& in the auditorium of the Library
and Fine Arts Building. There is no registration fee but there
will be a charge of $2.50 for the luncheon to be held in the library
and fine arts building. Anyone interested in attending the meeting
may have reservations with Mrs& John Whelan at the Hollywood
Public Library. At the workshop, Mrs& Schenk will discuss
"the board and the staff, librarian-board relationships, personnel
policies, how good is our librarian and staff, how good am I as a
library board member and how good is our library". Other workshops
will be in Tallahassee Oct& 5; Jacksonville, Oct& 6;
Orlando, Oct& 10; Plant City Oct& 11.

_FORT LAUDERDALE_- A series of high school assemblies to acquaint

junior and senior students with the Junior Achievement program begins
at St& Thomas Aquinas Monday. Subsequent assemblies
will be held at Stranahan High School Tuesday, at Pompano Beach
High Wednesday, and at Fort Lauderdale high Thursday. The
business education program operates with the cooperation of local high
schools and business firms.

Is there anything a frustrated individual can do about Communism's

growing threat on our doorstep and around the world?
More than 300 teenagers last Sunday proved there is and as many more
are expected to prove it again for Jim Kern and his wife Lynn from
4 to 8 p&m& Sunday at First Presbyterian Church. At that
time the second half of the Christian Youth Crusade against Communism
will be staged. {A young real estate salesman, Kern first
got seriously interested in the problems posed by Communism when in the
Navy Air Force. He was particularly struck by a course on Communist
brainwashing}. Kern began reading a lot about the history
and philosophy of Communism, but never felt there was anything
he,
as an individual, could do about it. When he attended the Christian
Anti-Communist Crusade school here about six months ago,
Jim became convinced that an individual can do something constructive
in the ideological battle and set out to do it. The best approach,
he figured, was to try to influence young people like the high
schoolers he and his wife serve as advisors at First Presbyterian Church.

{And he wanted to be careful that the kids not only learn

about Communist but also about what he feels is the only antidote-
a Biblically strong Christianity}. So the Christian
Youth Crusade against Communisn developed and more than 300 top teenagers
and 65 adult advisers from Presbyterian churches of the area sat
enthralled at the four-hour program. This Sunday those attending
the second session will hear a lecture by Kern on the world situation;
a review of the philosophy of Communist leaders by Ted Slack,
another real estate agent who became interested as a philosophy
major at the University of Miami; and talks on how their Christian
faith can guide them in learning about and fighting Communism during
high school and college days, by Ted Place, director of Greater Miami
Youth for Christ, and Jon Braun, director of Campus Crusade
for Christ. {The second half of the film "Communism on
the Map" and the movie "Operation Abolition" also will be
shown}.

Response to the program has been so encouraging, Kern

said, that a city-wide youth school at Dade County Auditorium may be
set up soon. And to encourage other churches to try their own
programs, Kern said this Sunday's sessions- including the free
dinner- will be open to anyone who makes reservations.

The need for and the way to achieve a Christian home will be
stressed in special services marking National Christian Family Week
in Miami area churches next week. Of particular meaning to
the Charles MacWhorter family, 3181 ~SW 24th Ter&, will be the
Family Dedication Service planned for 10:50 a&m& Sunday {at
First Christian Church}. It will be the second time
the assistant manager of a Coral Gables restaurant and his wife have
taken part in the twice-a-year ceremonies for families with new babies.

The first one, two years ago, changed the routine of their
home life. {"When you stand up in public and take vows to
strive to set an example before your children and to teach them the
fundamentals of the Christian faith, you strive a little harder to uphold
those vows", explains the slender vice president of the young couples
Sunday school class}. Until that first dedication service,
he and Lois felt their children were too young to take part in
any religious life at home. They have five daughters- Coral Lee,
5, Glenda Rae, 4, Pamela, 3, Karen, 2, and Shari, five months.

But after that service, they decided to try to let the girls say
grace at the table, have bedtime prayers, and Bible stories. To their
surprise, the children all were eager and quite able to take part.
Even the two-year-old feels miffed if the family has a prayer-time without
her. #@#

{DADE'S CHIEF} probation officer, Jack

Blanton, will lead a discussion on "The Changes in the American
Family" at 7:30 p&m& Sunday at {Christ Lutheran Church}.
#@#

{MR& AND MRS&} George Treadwell will

be honored at a Family Week supper and program at 6 p&m& Sunday
at {Trinity Methodist Church}. He is the sexton of the church.

A family worship service will follow the program at 7:45

p&m&. #@#

{THE OUTSTANDING} family of {Central

Nazarene Church} will be picked by ballot from among eight families
during the 10:45 a&m& Sunday service marking National Family
Week. #@#

{EVERY} family of {Riviera Presbyterian

Church} has been asked to read the Bible and pray together daily
during National Christian Family Week and to undertake one project
in which all members of the family participate. {To start
the week of special programs at the church, the Rev& John D&
Henderson will preach on "A Successful Marriage" at 9:40 and
11 a&m& Sunday. New officers of the church will be ordained and
installed at the 7:30 p& m& service}. A father and son
dinner sponsored by the Men's Club will be held at 6:15 p&m&
Monday and the annual church picnic at 4 p&m& next Saturday.

The week will end with the Rev& Mr& Henderson preaching on
"The Marriage Altar" at 7:30 p&m& Sunday, May 14.

The resignation of the Rev& Warren I& Densmore, headmaster

of St& Stephen's Episcopal Day School in Coconut Grove,
becomes effective July 15.

Enrique Jorda, conductor and musical director of the San Francisco

Symphony, will fulfill two more guest conducting engagements
in Europe before returning home to open the symphony's Golden Anniversary
season, it was announced. The guest assignments are
scheduled
for November 14 and 18, with the Orchestra Sinfonica Siciliana
in Palermo and the Orchestra of Radio Cologne. The season in San
Francisco will open with a special Gala Concert on November 22.

During his five-month visit abroad, Jorda recently conducted

the Orchestre Philharmonique de Bordeau in France, and the Santa
Cecilia Orchestra in Rome. In announcing Jorda's return,
the orchestra also announced that the sale of single tickets for the
50th anniversary season will start at the Sherman Clay box office on
Wednesday. Guest performers and conductors during the coming
season will include many renowned artists who began their careers playing
with the orchestra, including violinists Yehudi Menuhin, Isaac
Stern, Ruggiero Ricci and David Abel; pianists Leon Fleisher,
Ruth Slenczynka and Stephen Bishop and conductor Earl Bernard
Murray.

The Leningrad Kirov Ballet, which opened a series of performances

Friday night at the Opera House, is, I think, the finest "classical"
ballet company I have ever seen, and the production of
the Petipa-Tschaikowsky "Sleeping Beauty" with which it began
the series is incomparably the finest I have ever had the pleasure of
witnessing. This work is no favorite of mine. I am prepared
to demonstrate at an ytime that it represents the spirit of Imperial
Russia in its most vulgar, infantile, and reactionary aspect; that
its persistent use by ballet companies of the Soviet regime indicates
that that old spirit is just as stultifying alive today as it ever was;
that its presentation in this country is part of a capitalist plot
to boobify the American people; that its choreography is undistinguished
and its score a shapeless assemblage of self-plagiarisms. All
of this is true and all of it is totally meaningless in the face of
the Kirov's utterly captivating presentation.

#PRECISE#
The reasons
for this enchantment are numerous, but most of them end in "ova",
"eva", or "aya". In other words, no merely male creature
can resist that corps de ballet. It seems to have been chosen exclusively
from the winners of beauty contests- Miss Omsk, Miss Pinsk,
Miss Stalingr **h oops, skip it. These qualities alone,
however, would not account for their success, and it took me a while to
discover the crowning virtue that completes this company's collective
personality. It is a kind of friendliness and frankness of address
toward the audience which we have been led to believe was peculiar to
the American ballet. Oh-the-pain-of-it, that convention of Russian
ballet whereby the girls convey the idea that they are all the daughters
of impoverished Grand Dukes driven to thestage out of filial piety,
is totally absent from the Kirov. This is all the more remarkable
because the Kirov is to ballet what Senator Goldwater is to American
politics. But, obviously, at least some things have changed for
the better in Russia so far as the ballet is concerned. Irina
Kolpakova, the Princess Aurora of Friday's performance, would
be a change for the better anywhere, at any time, no matter who had had
the role before. She is the most beautiful thing you ever laid eyes
on, and her dancing has a feminine suavity, lightness, sparkle, and refinement
which are simply incomparable.

#HIT#

Alla Sizova, who

seems to have made a special hit in the East, was delightful as the lady
Bluebird and her partner, Yuri Soloviev, was wonderfully
virile,
acrobatic, and poetic all at the same time, in a tradition not unlike
that of Nijinsky. Vladilen Semenov, a fine "danseur noble";
Konstantin Shatilov, a great character dancer; and Inna Zubkovskaya,
an excellent Lilac Fairy, were other outstanding members of the
cast, but every member of the cast was magnificent. The production,
designed by Simon Virsaladze, was completely traditional but
traditional in the right way. It was done with great taste, was big and
spacious, sumptuous as the dreams of any peasant in its courtly costumes,
but sumptuous in a muted, pastel-like style, with rich, quiet harmonies
of color between the costumes themselves and between the costumes
and the scenery. Evegeni Dubovskoi conducted an exceptionally
large orchestra, one containing excellent soloists- the violin
solos by the concertmaster, Guy Lumia, were especially fine- but one
in which the core of traveling players and the body of men added locally
had not had time to achieve much unity.

Mail orders are now being received for the series of concerts
to be given this season under the auspices of the San Francisco Chamber
Music Society. The season will open at the new Hall of
Flowers in Golden Gate Park on November 20 at 8:30 p& m& with
a concert by the Mills Chamber Players. Sustaining members
may sign up at $25 for the ten-concert season; annual members
may
attend for $16. Participating members may attend five of the concerts
for $9 (not all ten concerts as was erroneously announced earlier in The
Chronicle). Mail orders for the season and orders for single
tickets at $2, may be addressed to the society, 1044 Chestnut street,
San Francisco 9.
San Francisco firemen busied themselves last week with their
annual voluntary task of fixing up toys for distribution to needy children.

Fire Fighters Local 798, which is sponsoring the toy program

for the 12th straight year, issued a call for San Franciscans
to turn in discarded toys, which will be repaired by off-duty firemen.

Toys will not be collected at firehouses this year. They will

be accepted at all branches of the Bay View Federal Savings and
Loan Association, at a collection center in the center of the Stonestown
mall, and at the Junior Museum, 16th street and Roosevelt way.

From the collection centers, toys will be taken to a warehouse

at 198 Second street, where they will be repaired and made ready
for distribution. Any needy family living in San Francisco can
obtain toys by writing to Christmas Toys, 676 Howard street, San
Francisco 5, and listing the parent's name and address and the age
and sex of each child in the family between the ages of 1 and 12. Requests
must be mailed in by December 5.
Famed cellist Pablo Casals took his instrument to the East Room of
the White House yesterday and charmed the staff with a two-hour rehearsal.
He was getting the feel of the room for a concert tomorrow night
for Puerto Rico Governor Luis Munoz Marin. President Kennedy's
invitation to the Spanish-born master said, "We feel your
performance as one of the world's greatest artists would lend distinction
to the entertainment of our guests".

FOR A GOOD MANY SEASONS I've been looking at the naughty

stuff on television, so the other night I thought I ought to see
how immorality is doing on the other side of the fence in movies. After
all, this year's movies are next year's television shows.

So I went to see "La Dolce Vita". <It has been billed

as a towering monument to immorality. All the sins of ancient Rome
are said to be collected into this three-hour film. If that's
all the Romans did, it's a surprise to me that Rome fell>.
After television, "La Dolce Vita" seems as harmless as a Gray
Line tour of North Beach at night. I cannot imagine a single scene
that isn't done in a far naughtier manner on ~TV every week.

I believe ~TV watchers will be bored. <"La Dolce

Vita" has none of the senseless brutality or sadism of the average
~TV Western. Week in, week out, there is more sex to be seen
in "The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet". There is more decadence
on "77 Sunset Strip". There are more obvious nymphomaniacs
on any private-eye series>. #@#

{IN ANOTHER RESPECT},

television viewers will feel right at home because most of the actors
are unknowns. With the exception of Lex Barker and Anita Ekberg,
the credits are as unfamiliar as you'll find on the Robert Herridge
Theater. Most of the emphasis has been placed on a "wild
party" at a seaside villa. Producer Fellini should have looked at
some of the old silent films where they really had {PARTIES}!
The Dolce Vita get-together boasted a strip tease (carried as
far as a black slip); a lady drunk on her hands and knees who carries
the hero around on her back while he throws pillow feathers in her
face; a frigid beauty, and three silly fairies. Put them all
together and they spell out the only four-letter word I can think of:
dull. <Apparently Fellini caught the crowd when its parties
had begun to pall. What a swinging group they must have been when
they first started entertaining!> #@#

{AS A MORAL SHOCKER}

it is a dud. But this doesn't detract from its merit as an
interesting, if not great, film. The Chronicle's Paine Knickerbocker
summed it up neatly: "This is a long picture and a controversial
one, but basically it is a moral, enthralling and heartbreaking
description of humans who have become unlinked from life as perhaps
Rome has from her traditional political, cultural and religious
glories". <And when they sell it to television in a couple
of years, it can be shown without editing>. #@#

TONIGHT
Atlantic Monthly editor Edward Weeks moderates a round table of four
Russian writers in a discussion of Soviet literature. Among the
subjects discussed will be Russian restrictions on poets and writers
in the ~USSR (Channel 9 at 9:30) **h Person to Person ventilates
the home lives of Johnny Mercer and Joan Collins- both in
Southern California (Channel 5 at 10:30) **h ~KQED Summer
Music Festival features a live concert by the Capello de Musica (Channel
9 at 8:30). ~NBC plans a new series of three long
programs exploring America's scientific plans titled "Threshold",
to start in the fall **h. "Science in Action", San Francisco's
venerable television program, will be seen in Hong Kong this
fall in four languages: Mandarin, Cantonese, Chiuchow and English,
according to a tip from Dr& Robert C& Miller. <And you
think>
YOU <have language problems>.

THE WEEK WENT along briskly enough. I bought a new little

foreign bomb. It is a British bomb. Very austere yet racy.

It is very chic to drive foreign cars. With a foreign car you must
wear a cap- it has a leather band in the back. You must also wear
a car coat. The wardrobe for a foreign bomb is a little expensive.
But we couldn't really get along without it. #@#

"WHERE
DO YOU put the lighter fluid, ha, ha"? asked the gas station
man. The present crop of small cars is enriching American humor.

Gas station people are very debonair about small cars.

When I drove a car with tail fins, I had plenty status at the wind-and-water
oases. My car gulped 20 gallons without even wiping its mouth.

This excellent foreign bomb takes only six. When

I had my big job with the double headlights and yards of chrome, the
gas people were happy to see me. "<Tires> OK? <Check
the oil and water, sir?>" They polished the windshield.
They had a loving touch. #@#

THE MAN STUCK the nozzle

in the gas tank. "What kind of car is it"? he asked gloomily.

"It is a British Austin, the smallest they make".

"Get much mileage"? "About 35". The gas station
man sighed unhappily. "What I always say is what if
somebody clobbers you in a little car like that? Crunch, that's all
she wrote". "I will die rich". "That will be
$1.80", said the gas station man. "The windshield looks pretty
clean". #@#

AH, THE FAIR-WEATHER friends of yesteryear!

When I wheeled about, finned fore and aft, I was the darling of the
doormen. Dollar bills skidded off my hands and they tipped their caps
politely. With a small bomb, I tuck it between Cadillacs.
(The last doorman that saw me do that should calm himself. High
blood pressure can get the best of any of us.)

AT LAST the White House is going to get some much-copied

furniture by that master American craftsman, Duncan Phyfe, whose
designs were snubbed in his lifetime when the U& S& Presidents
of the 19th Century sent abroad for their furnishings. The American
Institute of Decorators has acquired a rare complete set of
sofas
and chairs which are to be placed in the Executive Mansion's library.
The suite has been in the same family since the early 1800's.
The gift is being presented by "heirs and descendants of the Rutherford
family of New Jersey, whose famous estate,
"Tranquility",
was located near the Duncan Phyfe workshop at Andover, N& J&.

Authenticated pieces of Duncan Phyfe furniture are uncommon,

although millions of American homes today display pieces patterned
after the style trends he set 150 years ago. This acquisition is
a
matched, perfect set- consisting of two sofas six feet long, plus six
sidechairs and two armchairs. THE ~AID HAS undertaken
the redecoration of the White House library as a project in
connection with the work being done by First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy's
Fine Arts Advisory Committee to secure antiques for the presidential
home. It is the ~AID's intention to create in the
library "a miniature museum of Americana" before completed refurbishing
is unveiled early this fall. The room will also feature
another rarity many antiquarians would consider more important than the
Duncan Phyfe furniture. The ~AID has found a mantlepiece attributed
to Samuel McIntyre of Salem, Mass&, an architect and woodcarver
who competed for the designing of the Capitol here in 1792.

The mantel was found in a recently demolished Salem house and

is being fitted over the White House library fireplace. It will be
painted to match the paneling in the room. The ~AID committee's
chairman in charge of the redecoration, Mrs& Henry Francis
Lenygon, was in town yesterday to consult with White House staff
members on the project. Mrs& Lenygon's committee associates,
announced formally yesterday by the ~AID in New York, include Mrs&
Allen Lehman McCluskey and Stephen J& Jussel, both wellknown
Manhattan decorators. Regional representatives appointed to serve
from each section of the country include Frank E& Barnes of
Boston.

PRESIDENT KENNEDY couldn't stay away from his desk for

the 75-minute young people's concert played on the White House lawn
yesterday by the 85-piece Transylvania Symphony Orchestra from Brevard,
N& C&. But he left the doors to his office open so he
could hear the music. At 4 p& m& the President left the White
House to welcome the young musicians, students from the ages of
12 to 18 who spend six weeks at the Brevard Music Center summer camp,
and to greet the 325 crippled, cardiac and blind children from the
District area who were special guests at the concert. It was
the first in the series of "Concerts for Young People by Young
People" to be sponsored by First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy at the
White House. She was not present yesterday, however, to enjoy the
music or watch the faces of the delighted audience. She is vacationing
at the Kennedy summer home in Hyannis Port, Mass&, and in
his welcoming remarks, the President said he was representing her.

As he approached the open bandstand, erected facing the South

entrance to the Executive Mansion, the band struck up the "Star Spangled
Banner" and followed it with "Hail to the Chief".

"I think they played Hail to the Chief better than the Marine
Corps Band, and we are grateful to them", President Kennedy remarked
after mounting the bandstand and shaking hands with conductor
James Christian Pfohl. AFTER PAYING tribute to the conductor
and his white-clad youthful students, President Kennedy said,
"As an American I have the greatest possible pride in the work that
is being done in dozens of schools stretching across the United States-
schools where devoted teachers are studying with interested
young men and women and opening up the whole wide horizon of serious music".

He added "**h I think that sometimes in this country

we are not aware as we should be of the extraordinary work that
is being done in this field". Displaying his knowledge of
music, the New England-born President remarked that "probably the
best chamber music in the world is played in Vermont, by young Americans-
and here in this school where they have produced extraordinary
musicians and teachers, and their work is being duplicated all across
the United States. "This is a great national cultural asset,
and therefore it is a great source of satisfaction to me, representing
as I do today my wife, to welcome all of you here today at the
White House". As he left the bandstand to return to his office,
the slender, sun-tanned Chief Executive paused along the way to
shake hands with the members of the audience in wheel chairs forming
the first row under the field tent set up for the guests. He
expressed surprise to learn that pretty, blonde Patricia Holbrook, 16,
of Mount Rainier,
had attended the Joseph P& Kennedy School
for the Handicapped in Boston. "The nuns there do a wonderful work",
the President commented. Patricia now attends the C& Melvin
Sharpe Health School in the District. Each of the children
invited to the concert wore a name tag marked with a red, white and
blue ribbon. They enjoyed lemonade and cookies served before and during
the concert by teenage sons and daughters of members of the White
House staff. MANY of the music-loving members of the President's
staff gathered around the tent listening and watching the
rapt attention given by the young seated audience. And it turned out
to be more of a family affair than expected. Henry Hall Wilson, a
student at the music camp 25 years ago and now on the President's
staff as liaison representative with the House of Representatives, turned
guest conductor for a Sousa march, the "Stars and Stripes Forever".

Transylvania Symphony Conductor Pfohl said yesterday that Mrs&

Kennedy's Social Secretary, Letitia Baldrige, told about
plans for White House youth concerts before the National Symphony
Orchestra League in Philadelphia last spring. He said he contacted
a friend, Henry Hall Wilson, on the President's staff and
asked whether his orchestra could play, in the series. A flow of correspondence
between Pfohl and Miss Baldrige resulted in an invitation
to the 85-student North Carolina group to play the first concert.

ONE OF THE MOST interested "students" on the tour which

the Brevard group took at the National Gallery yesterday following
their concert at the White House, was Letitia Baldrige, social
secretary to First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy. "I was an art
major in college", Miss Baldrige explained. "I've been here
so many times I couldn't count them". She turned out to be a fan,
too, of Margaret Bouton, the Gallery's associate curator of education.

Miss Bouton headed up one of the four groups that went

on simultaneous tours after the Gallery had closed at 5
p& m&.
The Brevard group of 85 arrived at the Gallery at 6 p& m&, remaining
for about 45 minutes. The Brevard visitors had very little
to say at the beginning of the tour but warmed up later. They decided
that they thought Rembrandt's self-portrait made him look "sad"**h
they noticed Roman buildings in the background of Raphael's
"Alba Madonna" and "texture" in a Monet painting of Rheims
Cathedral. Everybody had heard of Van Gogh, the French impressionist.

Gallery Director John Walker greeted the group, standing

on one of the benches in the downstairs lobby to speak to them.
He pointed out to the young musicians that the National Gallery "is
the only museum in the country to have a full-time music director
**h Richard Bales **h I'm sure you've heard af him **h and his
record, 'The Confederacy'". Along with the gallery aide
who explained the various paintings and sculptures to each group, went
one of the Gallery's blue-uniformed guards. In 45 minutes,
the Gallery leaders had given the students a quick rundown on art
from the Renaissance to the late 19th Century. A few of them
said they "preferred contemporary art". Among the other
artists, whose paintings were discussed were Boucher, Courbet, Fra
Angelico. The thing that impressed one of the visitors the most
was the Gallery's rotunda fountain **h "because it's on the
second floor".

That imposing, somewhat austere, and seemingly remote collonaded

building with the sphynxes perched on its threshold at 1733 16th st&
nw& took on bustling life yesterday. More than 250 Scottish
Rite Masons and guests gathered in their House of the Temple
to pay tribute to their most prominent leader, Albert Pike, who headed
the Scottish Rite from 1859 to 1891. They came together in
the huge, high-ceilinged Council Chamber to hear the late leader eulogized.
C& Wheeler Barnes of Denver, head of the Scottish Rite
in Colorado, praised Pike as a historian, author, poet, journalist,
lawyer, jurist, soldier and musician, who devoted most of his mature
years to the strengthening of the Masonic Order. The ceremony
ended with the laying of a wreath at the crypt of Pike in the House
of the Temple. A reception and tea followed. About 1500
delegates are expected to register today for the biennial session of the
Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite for the Southern Jurisdiction
of the United States. The opening session of the 5-day session
will begin at 10 a& m& today. There will be a pilgrimage to
Mount Vernon at 2:30 p& m&. A wreath will be placed at the
tomb of George Washington, one of this Nation's first Masons-
a past master of Washington-Alexandria Lodge 22 in Alexandria.

THE MARRIAGE of John and Mary Black had clearly reached

the breaking point after eight years. John had a job in a small
firm where the work was dull and monotonous. He would come home in
the evening tired and discouraged- in no frame of mind to play with
their three children, or spend much time chatting with his wife.

Hurt by his lack of interest and attention, Mary complained often

that he didn't help around the house, and that he didn't really
care about the family. She accused him of ignoring her. He in turn told
her she demanded too much. They were both discouraged, disgusted
and miserable. Mary decided she had had enough. Without any definite
plan in mind, she went to a judge to see what could be done. The
judge listened quietly as the young woman poured out her frustrations-
then discussing with her the possibility of seeking aid from
Family
Service before going to a lawyer. Family Service, sharing
in ~UGF, has five agencies in the Washington area. They offer
to the people of this community case work service and counseling on
a wide variety of family problems. Because neither of them really
wanted their marriage to break up, Mr& and Mrs& Black agreed
to a series of interviews at Family Service of Northern Virginia,
the agency nearest them. For nearly a year, they have been receiving
counseling, separately and together, in an effort to understand and
overcome the antagonisms which had given rise to the possibility of divorce.
The interviews have led each of them to a new appreciation of
the problems confronting the other. They are now working together toward
solving their difficulties. JOHN received a promotion
in his firm. He gives credit for the promotion to his new outlook on
life. Mary is cheery and gay when her husband comes home in the evenings,
and the children's bed-time is frequently preceeded by a session
of happy, family rough-housing. To outsiders, the Blacks seem
to be an ordinary, happy family, and they are- but with a difference.
They know the value of being just that- an ordinary, happy family.

Family Service has helped hundreds of families in this

area. Perhaps to some their work does not seem particularly vital. But
to the families it serves, their help cannot be measured. Family Service
could not open its doors to a single family without the financial
support of the United Givers Fund.

Anticipated heavy traffic along the Skyline Drive failed to

materialize yesterday, park rangers said, and those who made the trip
got a leisurely view of the fall colors through skies swept clear of haze.

#FOR CRUCIAL ENCOUNTER#

One of the initial questions put to President

Kennedy at his first news conference last January was about his
attitude toward a meeting with Premier Khrushchev. Mr& Kennedy
replied: @ "I'm hopeful that from @ more traditional
exchanges we can perhaps find greater common ground". The
President knew that a confrontation with Mr& Khrushchev sooner or
later probably was inevitable and even desirable. But he was convinced
that the realities of power- military, economic and ideological-
were the decisive factors in the struggle with the Communists and that
these could not be talked away at a heads of government meeting. He
wanted to buy time to strengthen the U& S& and its allies and
to define and begin to implement his foreign policy. Last Friday
the White House announced: President Kennedy will
meet
with Soviet Premier Nikita S& Khrushchev in Vienna June 3 and
4. The announcement came after a period of sharp deterioration
in East-West relations. The heightened tension, in fact, had been
a major factor in the President's change of view about the urgency
of a meeting with the Soviet leader. He was not going to Vienna
to negotiate- the simultaneous announcements in Washington and Moscow
last week stressed that no formal negotiations were planned. But
Mr& Kennedy had become convinced that a personal confrontation with
Mr& Khrushchev might be the only way to prevent catastrophe.

That objective set the high stakes and drama of the Vienna meeting.
Despite efforts by Washington last week to play down the significance
of the meeting, it clearly was going to be one of the crucial encounters
of the cold war. @

#ROAD TO VIENNA#

The U& S& and

Soviet heads of Government have met three times since Sir Winston
Churchill in 1953 introduced a new word into international diplomacy
with his call for a fresh approach to the problem of peace "at the
summit of the nations". The first time was in 1955 when a
full-dress Big Four summit meeting produced the "spirit of Geneva".
The spirit served chiefly to lull the West while Moscow made inroads
into the Middle East. In 1959 President Eisenhower
and Premier Khrushchev held an informal session in the U& S&.
That meeting produced the "spirit of Camp David"- a spirit, it
later turned out, that masked a basic misunderstanding about progress
toward a Berlin settlement. On the third occasion- another
Big Four summit session at Paris a year ago- there was no problem
of an illusory "spirit". Premier Khrushchev wrecked the conference
at its initial session with a bitter denunciation of the U& S&
for the ~U-2 incident. The episode tended to confirm the U&
S& belief that propaganda, the hope of one-sided concessions, and
the chance to split the Allies, rather than genuine negotiation, were
the Soviet leader's real aims in summitry.

#PRE-INAUGURAL POSITION#

Thus when Premier Khrushchev intimated even before inauguration

that he hoped for an early meeting with the new President, Mr&
Kennedy was confronted with a delicate problem. Shortly before his
nomination he had set forth his basic view about the problem of negotiations
with the Soviet leader in these words: "As long
as Mr& Khrushchev is convinced that the balance of world power is
shifting his way, no amount of either smiles or toughness, neither Camp
David talks nor kitchen debates, can compel him to enter fruitful
negotiations".

The President had set for himself the task, which

he believed vital, of awakening the U& S& and its allies to
the hard and complex effort necessary to shift that balance. He did
not want the effort weakened by any illusion that summit magic might make
it unnecessary. He wanted time, too, to review the United States'
global commitments and to test both the policies he had inherited
and new ones he was formulating. Above all, he did not want to appear
to be running hat in hand to Premier Khrushchev's doorstep.

#ATTITUDE
FLEXIBLE#

At the same time the President took pains not to

rule out an eventual meeting with the Soviet leader. Ideally, he knew,
it should be preceded by concrete progress at lower levels. But Mr&
Kennedy saw value even in an informal meeting, provided that undue
hopes were not raised in connection with it. It would give him an
opportunity to take the measure of his chief adversary in the cold war,
to try to probe Mr& Khrushchev's intentions and to make clear
his own views. Moreover, an eventual meeting was desirable if for no
other reason than to satisfy world opinion that the U& S& was not
inflexible and was sparing no effort to ease international tensions.

Both elements- the caution about a meeting, the willingness

eventually to hold one- were reflected in a letter from the President
which Ambassador Llewellyn E& Thompson brought back to Russia
late in February. The letter, dated Feb& 22, was delivered to
Premier Khrushchev in Novosibirsk, Siberia, on March 9. It dealt
mainly with a broad range of East-West issues. But it also briefly
suggested the possibility of a meeting with Mr& Khrushchev before
the end of the year if the international climate were favorable and
schedules permitted. Developments over the next two months, however,
caused the President to reconsider the question of the timing.
There were intense discussions in the inner councils of the White House
about the advisability of an early meeting, not because the international
climate was improving, but precisely because it was deteriorating
alarmingly.

#DEADLOCK ON TESTS#

The President was especially

concerned about the deadlock in the nuclear test ban negotiations at
Geneva. The deadlock has been caused by the Russians' new demand
for a three-man (East, West and neutral) directorate, and thus a veto,
over the control machinery. In the U& S&, strong pressures
have been building up for a resumption of tests on grounds that the Russians
may be secretly testing. Mr& Kennedy was less troubled
by that possibility than by the belief that a Geneva breakdown,
or even continued stalemate, would mean an unchecked spread of nuclear
weapons to other countries as well as a fatal blow to any hope for disarmament.
There was reason to believe that Premier Khrushchev was
also concerned about a possible spread of nuclear weapons, particularly
to Communist China. The question arose as to whether a frank discussion
of that danger with the Soviet leader had not become urgent. Moreover,
Moscow appeared determined to apply the tripartite veto principle
to the executive organs of all international bodies, including
the U& N& Secretariat and the International Control Commission
for Laos. Mr& Kennedy was convinced that insistence on the demand
would make international agreements, or even negotiations, impossible.

Developments in Cuba and Laos also suggested the advisability

of an early summit meeting. Initially the White House reaction
was that the bitter exchanges with Moscow over Cuba and the conflict
in Laos had dampened prospects for a meeting. At the same time,
there was increased reason for a quick meeting lest the Soviet leader,
as a result of those episodes, come to a dangerously erroneous conclusion
about the West's ability and determination to resist Communist
pressure. In Cuba, the U& S& had blundered badly and
created the impression of impotency against Communist penetration even
on its own doorstep. In Laos, the picture was almost equally bad.
U& S& willingness to accept a neutral Laos may have led Premier
Khrushchev to believe that other areas could be "neutralized"
on Soviet terms. Beyond that, Allied disagreement about military intervention
in Laos- despite warnings that they might do so- allowed
Moscow to carry out with impunity a series of military and diplomatic
moves that greatly strengthened the pro-Communist forces. As a result,
the West is in a poor bargaining position at the current Geneva
negotiations on Laos, and South Vietnam and other nations in Southeast
Asia are under increased pressure. In the light of those
events, there appeared to be a real danger that Premier Khrushchev
might overreach himself. Ambassador Thompson reported from Moscow
that the Soviet leader's mood was cocky and aggressive. He has indicated
that he plans new moves on Berlin before the year is out. The
President and his advisers felt that the time might have come to warn
Premier Khrushchev against a grave miscalculation in areas such
as Berlin, Iran or Latin America from which there would be no turning
back. It was in the midst of such White House deliberations
that Premier Khrushchev on May 4 made new inquiries through the
U& S& Embassy in Moscow about a meeting with the President in
the near future. Mr& Kennedy told Moscow he would give his answer
by May 20 after consultation with the Allies. The response from
London, Paris and Bonn was favorable. Firm arrangements for the meeting
in Vienna were worked out in a final exchange between Moscow and
Washington last week. Apparently at the insistence of the U& S&,
the simultaneous announcements issued in Washington and Moscow
last Friday emphasized the "informal" nature of the meeting. The
Washington announcement said: @ "The President and Chairman
Khrushchev understand that this meeting is not for the purpose
of negotiating or reaching agreement on the major international problems
that involve the interest of many other countries. The meeting
will, however, afford a timely and convenient opportunity for the first
personal contact between them and a general exchange of views on the
major issues which affect the relationships between the two countries".
@

#THE OUTLOOK#

The Vienna meeting will bring together a

seasoned,
67-year-old veteran of the cold war who, in Mr& Kennedy's
own words, is "shrewd, tough, vigorous, well-informed and confident",
and a 44-year-old President (his birthday is May 29) with a
demonstrated capacity for political battle but little experience in international
diplomacy. The announcement last week of the forthcoming
encounter produced strong reactions in the U& S& of both approval
and disapproval. The approval did not arise from an expectation
of far-reaching agreements at Vienna. The inclination was to accept
the statement that there would be no formal negotiations. But those
who were in favor of the meeting felt that a frank exchange between
the two men and an opportunity to size one another up would prove salutary.
Mr& Khrushchev is known to rely heavily on his instincts about
his adversaries and to be a shrewd judge of men. The feeling was
that he would sense an inner core of toughness and determination in the
President and that plain talk by Mr& Kennedy would give him pause.
Apart from the personal equation, another reason advanced
in favor of the meeting was that too often in the past the U&S&
appeared to have been dragged reluctantly to the summit. Premier Khrushchev
has made propaganda capital out of that fact and in the end got
his summit meeting anyway. This time the initiative came, in part
at least, from Washington.

#OTHER ALLIES CONSULTED#

There was also

the fact that by the time he meets Mr& Khrushchev, the President
will have completed conversations with all the other principal Allied
leaders. Thus he will be in a position to disabuse the Soviet leader
of any notions he may have about grave Allied disunity. Finally,
there was a wide area of agreement on the value of the President's
making a final effort in the summit spotlight for a nuclear test
accord. There is no single issue that has aroused stronger feelings
throughout the world. If tests are to be resumed, the argument went,
it is vital that the U& S& make plain that the onus belongs to
the Soviet Union. Disapproval of the meeting was based largely
on the belief that the timing could hardly be worse. After Cuba
and Laos, it was argued, Mr& Khrushchev will interpret the President's
consent to the meeting as further evidence of Western weakness-
perhaps even panic- and is certain to try to exploit the advantage
he now believes he holds. Moreover, the President is meeting the
Soviet leader at a time when the Administration has still not decided
on the scope of America's firm foreign policy commitments. The
question was raised, for example, as to what attitude the President
would take if Mr& Khrushchev proposes a broad neutral belt extending
from Southeast Asia to the Middle East.

THERE ARE, so my biologist friends tell me, mechanisms of

adaptation and defense that are just too complete and too satisfactory.
Mollusks are a case in point. The shell, which served the strain
so well at a relatively early stage in the evolutionary scheme, tended
to cancel out the possibility of future development. Though this may
or may not be good biology, it does aptly illustrate the strength and
the weakness of American Catholic higher education. There can
be no doubt that the American Catholic accomplishment in the field
of higher education is most impressive: our European brethren never
cease to marvel at the number and the size of our colleges and universities.
The deeper wonder is how this miracle was accomplished in decades,
rather than in centuries and by immigrant minorities at that.
By way of explanation we ourselves are prone to imagine that this achievement
stems from the same American Catholic zeal and generosity which
brought the parochial school system into existence. There
is, however, one curious discrepancy in this broad and flattering picture.
Viewing the American Catholic educational achievement in retrospect,
we may indeed see it as a unified whole extending from grade school
to university. But the simple truth is that higher education has
never really been an official American Catholic project; certainly
not in the same sense that the establishment of a parochial school
system has been a matter of official policy. Official encouragement
is one thing, but the down-to-earth test is the allocation of diocesan
and parochial funds. American Catholics have responded generously
to bishops' and pastors' appeals for the support necessary to
create parochial schools but they have not contributed in a similar
fashion to the establishment of institutions of higher learning. They
have not done so for the simple reason that such appeals have hardly
ever been made. Diocesan authorities generally have not regarded this
as their direct responsibility. All of this may be understandable
enough: it is, however, in fact difficult to see how diocesan
authorities could have acted otherwise. Yet for better or for worse,
the truth of the matter is that most American Catholic colleges do
<not> owe their existence to general Catholic support but rather to
the initiative, resourcefulness and sacrifices of individual religious
communities. Community <esprit de corps> has been the protective
shell which has made the achievement possible. To understand
the past history- and the future potential- of American Catholic
higher education, it is necessary to appreciate the special character
of the <esprit d' corps> of the religious community. It is something
more than the arithmetical sum of individual totals of piety and
detachment. A religious community with a vital sense of mission achieves
a degree of group orientation and group identification seldom found
elsewhere. The fact that the group orientation and group identification
are founded on supernatural principles and nourished by the well-springs
of devotion simply give them a deeper and more satisfying dimension.
The net result is a uniquely satisfying sense of comradeship,
the kind of comradeship which sparks enthusiasm and blunts the cutting
edge of sacrifice and hardship. American Catholic colleges
and universities are, in a very real sense, the product of "private
enterprise"- the "private enterprise" of religious communities.
Had it not been for such private enterprise, diocesan authorities
might of course have been goaded into establishing institutions subsidized
by diocesan funds and parish collections and staffed by religious
as paid employees. There is however no point in speculating about such
a possibility: the fact of the matter is that our institutions of
higher learning owe their existence to a spirit not unlike that which
produces the "family business". This "family-community" spirit
is the real explanation of the marvel of our achievement. ##

IT IS this spirit which explains some of the anomalies of American

Catholic higher education, in particular the wasteful duplication
apparent in some areas. I think for example of three women's colleges
with pitifully small enrollments, clustered within a few miles of
a major Catholic university, which is also co-educational. This is not
an isolated example; this aspect of the total picture has been commented
upon often enough. It would seem to represent <esprit de corps>
run riot. Apart, however, from the question of wasteful duplication,
there is another aspect of the "family business" spirit
in American Catholic higher education which deserves closer scrutiny.
For while the past needs of the Church in this country may have
been adequately met by collegiate institutions, which in temper and tone
closely resembled junior colleges and finishing schools, it would
seem that today's need is for the college which more closely resembles
the university in its "pursuit of excellence". At the earlier
"pre-academic excellence" stage of Catholic education, the operation
could be conducted on an intra-mural community basis. But with today's
demand for professional qualifications and specialized training,
the need for "outsiders" become more pressing. ##

THE PROBLEM
is not merely that more "outside teachers" are needed but
that a different brand is called for. Commenting on the earlier stage,
the Notre Dame Chapter of the American Association of University
Professors
(in a recent report on the question of faculty participation
in administrative decision-making) noted that the term "teacher-employee"
(as opposed to, e&g&, "maintenance employee") was
a not inapt description. Today however, the "outsider" is likely
to have professional qualifications of the highest order (otherwise
the college would not be interested in hiring him) and to be acclimatized
to the democratic processes of the secular or state university. And
while no one expects total democracy on the academic scene, the scholar
will be particularly sensitive to a line between first and second
class citizenship drawn on any basis other than that of academic rank
or professional achievement. In the above mentioned report of
the Notre Dame Chapter of the American Association of University
Professors, the basic outlook of the new breed of lay faculty emerges
very clearly in the very statement of the problem as the members see
it: "Even with the best of intentions he (the President of the
university) is loath to delegate such authority and responsibility to
a group the membership of which, considered (as it must be by him) in
individual terms, is inhomogeneous, mortal and of extremely varying
temperament, interests and capabilities. It is natural that he should
turn for his major support to a select and dedicated few from the organization
which actually owns the university and whose goals are, in
their opinion, identified with its highest good and (to use that oft-repeated
phrase) 'the attainment of excellence'". The pattern
here pictured is clearly not peculiar to Notre Dame: it is simply
that the paradox involved in this kind of control of the institution
by "the organization which actually owns" it, becomes more obvious
where there is a larger and more distinguished "outside" faculty.
It is particularly interesting that those who framed the report
should refer to "the organization which actually owns the university":
this seems to show an awareness of the fact that there is more
to the problem than the ordinary issue of clerical-lay tension. But
in any case, one does not have to read very closely between the lines
to realize that the situation is not regarded as a particularly happy
one. "Outside" faculty members want to be considered partners in
the academic enterprise and not merely paid employees of a family business.

There are two reasons why failure to come to grips with

this demand could be fatal to the future of the Catholic university.
In the first place there is the obvious problem of recruiting high caliber
personnel. Word spreads rapidly in the tightly knit academic profession,
much given to attending meetings and conferences. Expressions
of even low-key dissatisfaction by a Catholic college faculty member
has the effect of confirming the already existing stereotype. In
the academic world there is seldom anything so dramatic as a strike or
a boycott: all that happens is that the better qualified teacher declines
to gamble two or three years of his life on the chance that conditions
at the Catholic institution will be as good as those elsewhere.

To appreciate the nature of the gamble, it should be realized

that while college teaching is almost a public symbol of security,
that security does not come as quickly or as automatically as it does
in an elementary school system or in the Civil Service. Much has
been made of the fact that major Catholic institutions now guarantee
firm tenure. This is a significant advance but its import should not
be exaggerated. When a man invests a block of his years at a university
without gaining the coveted promotion, not only is he faced with the
problem of starting over but there is also a certain depreciation in
the market value of his services. A man does not make that kind of
gamble if he suspects that one or more of the limited number of tenure
positions is being reserved for members of the "family". ##
JUST
AS IT is possible to exaggerate the drawing power of the new
tenure practices, it is also possible to exaggerate the significance
of the now relatively adequate salaries paid by major Catholic institutions.
Adequate compensation is indispensable. Yet adequate compensation-
and particularly <merely> adequate compensation is no substitute
for those intangibles which cause a man to sacrifice part of his
earning potential by taking up college teaching in the first place. Broadly
speaking the total Catholic atmosphere is such an intangible
but the larger demand is for a sense of creative participation and mature
responsibility in the total work of the university. Religious who
derive their own sense of purpose through identification with the religious
community rather than the academic community are prone to underestimate
both the layman's reservoir of idealism and his need for this
identification. There is no need here to spell out the conditions
of creative teaching except to point out that, at the college
level, the sense of community and of community responsibility is even
more necessary than it is at other levels. The college teacher needs
the stimulus of communication with other faculty members but he also
needs to feel that such communication, even informal debates over the
luncheon table, are a contribution to the total good of the institution.
But this in turn means that decisions are not merely imposed from
the top but that there be some actual mechanism of faculty participation.

The second reason for being concerned with the dichotomy

between faculty members who are part of the "in-group" that owns and
operates the institution and those who are merely paid employees, is,
therefore, the baneful effect on the caliber of the teaching itself.
This is a problem that goes considerably beyond questions of salary
and tenure. Yet though it may seem difficult to envision any definitive
resolution of the problem of ownership and control, there are nevertheless
certain suggestions which seem to be in order. The first
is a negative warning: there is no point in the creation of faculty
committees and advisory boards with high-sounding titles but no real
authority. In the case of academic personnel the "feeling" of
participation can hardly be "faked". Competent teachers are well
versed in the technique of leading students to pre-set conclusions without
destroying the students' illusion that they are making their own
decisions. Those who have served as faculty advisers are too familiar
with the useful but artificial mechanisms of student government to
be taken in by "busy-work" and <ersatz> decision making.
In any case it is by no means clear that formally structured organs of
participation are what is called for at all. In the Notre Dame report,
reference was made to the fact that faculty members were reduced
to "luncheon-table communication". In itself there is nothing wrong
with this form of "participation": the only difficulty on the
Catholic campus is that those faculty members who are in a position
to implement policy, i&e&, members of the religious community which
owns and administers the institution, have their own eating arrangements.
SEN& JOHN L& McCLELLAN of Arkansas and Rep& David
Martin of Nebraska are again beating the drums to place the unions
under the anti-monopoly laws. Once more the fallacious equation is advanced
to argue that since business is restricted under the anti-monopoly
laws, there must be a corresponding restriction against labor unions:
the law must treat everybody equally. Or, in the words of Anatole
France, "The law in its majestic equality must forbid the rich,
as well as the poor, from begging in the streets and sleeping under
bridges". The public atmosphere that has been generated which
makes acceptance of this law a possibility stems from the disrepute
into which the labor movement has fallen as a result of Mr& McClellan's
hearings into corruption in labor-management relations and, later,
into the jurisdictional squabbles that plagued industrial relations
at the missile sites. The Senator was shocked by stoppages over
allegedly trivial disputes that delayed our missile program. In addition,
disclosures that missile workers were earning sums far in excess
of what is paid for equivalent work elsewhere provoked his indignation
on behalf of the American taxpayer who was footing the bill.
It is now disclosed that the taxpayer not only pays for high wages, but
he pays the employers' strike expenses when the latter undertakes
to fight a strike. <Business Week> (Aug& 9, 1961) reports that
the United Aircraft Company, against which the International Association
of Machinists had undertaken a strike, decided to keep its plants
operating. The company incurred some $10 million of expenses attributable
to four factors: advertising to attract new employees, hiring
and training them, extra overtime, and defective work performed by
the new workers. The company has billed the United States Government
for $7,500,000 of these expenses under the Defense Department regulation
allowing costs of a type generally recognized as ordinary and
necessary for the conduct of the contractor's business. Rep&
Frank Kowalski of Connecticut has brought this problem to the
attention of the Armed Services Committee. The committee remains unresponsive.
Neither has Congressman Martin nor Senator McClellan
been heard from on the matter; they are preoccupied with ending labor
abuses by extending the anti-monopoly laws to the unions. ##

THE
RECENT publicity attending the successful federal prosecution
of a conspiracy indictment against a number of electrical manufacturers
has evoked a new respect for the anti-trust laws that is justified
neither by their rationale nor by the results they have obtained. The
anti-trust laws inform a business that it must compete, but along completely
undefined lines; it must play a game in which there never is
a winner. The fact is that any business that wants to operate successfully
cannot follow the law. Hypocrisy thus becomes the answer to a
foolish public policy. Let us look at the heavy-electrical-goods
industry in which General Electric, Westinghouse and a number of
other manufacturers were recently convicted of engaging in a conspiracy
to rig prices and allocate the market. The industry is so structured
that price-setting by a multi-product company will vary with the way
overhead charges are allocated- whether marginal or average pricing
is applied. The problem becomes even more complex where an enterprise
is engaged in the manufacture of a wide variety of other goods
in addition to the heavy electrical equipment. Accounting procedures
can be varied to provide a rationale for almost any price. Naturally,
enterprises of the size of General Electric are in a position to
structure their prices in such a way that the relatively small competitors
can be forced to the wall in a very short time. Should these giants
really flex their competitive muscles, they would become the only
survivors in the industry. Uncle Sam would then accuse them of creating
a monopoly by "unfair competition". But if they show self-restraint,
they don't get the orders. Under the circumstances,
the only protection for the relatively small manufacturers is to engage
in exactly the kind of conspiracy with the giants for which the latter
were convicted. Engaging in such a conspiracy was an act of mercy
by the giants. The paradox implicit in the whole affair is shown by
the demand of the government, after the conviction, that General Electric
sign a wide-open consent decree that <it would not reduce prices
so low as to compete seriously with its fellows>. In other words,
the anti-trust laws, designed to reduce prices to the consumer on Monday,
Wednesday and Friday, become a tool to protect the marginal manufacturer
on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. And which theory would
govern the enforcers of the law on Sunday? ##

THE QUESTION
might be asked: "Don't the managements of the heavy-electrical-goods
manufacturers know these facts? Why did they engage in a
flood of <mea culpas>, throw a few scapegoats to the dogs and promise
to be good boys thereafter, expressing their complete confidence in
the laws"? The past usefulness of the anti-trust laws to
management was explained by Thurman Arnold, in <The Folklore of Capitalism>,
back in 1937. He wrote: "(P& 211) **h the anti-trust
laws were the answer of a society which unconsciously felt the need
of great organizations, and at the same time had to deny them a place
in the moral and logical ideology of the social structure. (P& 214)
**h anti-trust laws became the greatest protection to uncontrolled
business dictatorship. (P& 215) **h when corporate abuses were attacked,
it was done on the theory that criminal penalties would be invoked
rather than control. **h In this manner, every scheme for direct
control broke to pieces on the great protective rock of the anti-trust
laws. (Pp& 228-229) **h in any event, it is obvious that the anti-trust
laws did not prevent the formation of some of the greatest financial
empires the world has ever known, held together by some of the most
fantastic ideas, all based on the fundamental notion that a corporation
is an individual who can trade and exchange goods without control
by the government". This escape from control has led to management's
evaluating the risk of occasional irrational prosecution as
worth while. A plea of <nolo contendere>, followed by a nominal fine,
after all is a small price to pay for this untrammeled license. (The
penalties handed out in the electrical case, which included jail
sentences, were unprecedented in anti-trust prosecutions, perhaps because
the conspirators had displayed unusual ineptness in their pricing
activities.) If a substitute mechanism is needed for the control
of a fictitious impersonal market, quite obviously some method must
be devised for representing the public interest. A secret conspiracy
of manufacturers is hardly such a vehicle. However, one can argue that
no such control is necessary as long as one pretends that the anti-trust
laws are effective and rational. Quite clearly the anti-trust laws
are neither effective nor rational- and yet the argument goes that
they should be extended to the labor union. THOSE WHO
favor placing trade unions under anti-trust laws imply that they are advocating
a brand new reform. Before 1933, individuals who opposed
trade unions and collective bargaining said so in plain English.
The acceptance of collective bargaining as a national policy in 1934,
implicit in the writing of Section 7~A of the National Industrial
Recovery Act, has made it impolitic to oppose collective bargaining
in principle. The Wagner Act, the Taft-Hartley Act and the Landrum-Griffin
Act all endorse the principle of collective bargaining.

The basic purpose of an effective collective-bargaining system

is the removal of wages from competition. If a union cannot perform
this function, then collective bargaining is being palmed off by organizers
as a gigantic fraud. The tortured reasoning that unions
use to deny their ambition to exercise monopoly power over the supply
and price of labor is one of the things that create a legal profession.
The problem must be faced squarely. If laborers are merely commodities
competing against each other in a market place like so many bags
of wheat and corn (unsupported, by the way, by any agricultural subsidy),
then they may be pardoned for reacting with complete antagonism
to a system that imposes such status upon them. Human labor
was exactly that- a commodity- in eighteenth- and nineteenth-century
America. As early as 1776, Adam Smith wrote in <The Wealth of
Nations>: "We have no acts of Parliament against combining
to lower the price of work; but many against combining to raise it".
Eighteenth-century England, upon whose customs our common law was
built, had outlawed unions as monopolies and conspiracies. In 1825,
the Boston house carpenters' strike for a ten-hour day was denounced
by the organized employers, who declared: "It is **h considered
that all combinations by any classes of citizens intended to **h effect
the value of labor **h tend to convert all its branches into monopolies".

There were no pious hypocrisies then about being <for>

collective bargaining, but <against> labor monopoly. The courts
shared the opinion of the employers. In <People vs& Fisher>, Justice
Savage of the New York Supreme Court declared: "Without
any officious and improper interference on the subject, the
price of labor or the wages of mechanics will be regulated by the demand
for the manufactured article and the value of that which is paid
for it; but the right does not exist to raise **h the wages of the mechanic
by any forced and artificial means". Compare this statement
of a nineteenth-century judge with how Congressman Martin, according
to the <Daily Labor Report> of Sept& 19, 1961, defends
the necessity of enacting anti-trust legislation in the field of labor
"if we wish to prevent monopolistic fixing of wages, production or
prices and if we wish to preserve the freedom of the employer and his
employees to contract on wages, hours and conditions of employment".

Senator McClellan is proposing the application of anti-trust

measures to unions in transportation. His bill, allegedly aimed at
Hoffa, would amend the Sherman, Clayton and Norris-LaGuardia acts
to authorize the issuance of federal injunctions in any transportation
strike and would make it illegal for any union to act in concert
with any other union- even a sister local in the same international.

Paradoxically, the same week in which Senator McClellan was

attempting to extend the anti-trust act to labor in transportation,
the Civil Aeronautics Board was assuring the airlines that if they
met in concert to eliminate many costly features of air travel, the action
would not be deemed a violation of the anti-trust act. Indeed, it
is in the field of transportation that Congress has most frequently
granted employers exemption from the anti-trust laws; for example,
the organization of steamship conferences to set freight rates and the
encouragement of railroads to seek mergers. At the very moment that
every attempt is being made to take management out from under the irrationality
of anti-trust legislation, a drive is on to abolish collective
bargaining under the guise of extending the anti-monopoly laws to unions
who want no more than to continue to set wages in the same way that
ship operators set freight rates. ##

THE passage of the

Sherman Act was aimed at giant monopolies. It was most effective against
trade unions. In the famous Danbury Hatters case, a suit was
brought against the union by the Loewe Company for monopolistic practices,
e&g&, trying to persuade consumers not to purchase the product
of the struck manufacturer. The suit against the union was successful
and many workers lost their homes to pay off the judgment.
In 1914, the Clayton Act attempted to take labor out from under
the anti-trust legislation by stating that human labor was not to be
considered a commodity. The law could not suspend economics. Labor remained
a commodity- but presumably a privileged one granted immunization
from the anti-trust laws. The courts, by interpretation,
emasculated the act. In 1922, the United Mine Workers struck the
Coronado Coal Company. The company sued under the anti-trust laws,
alleging that the union's activity interfered with the movement of
interstate commerce. (What other purpose could a striking union have
but to interrupt the flow of commerce from the struck enterprise?) The
court first ruled that the strike constituted only an indirect interference
with commerce.

#THE NATION#

_THE THREE-FRONT WAR_ At a closed-door session

on Capitol Hill last week, Secretary of State Christian Herter made
his final report to the Senate Foreign Relations Committee on
U&S& affairs abroad. Afterward, Tennessee's Democratic Senator
Albert Gore summed it up for newsmen. What Herter presented,
said Gore, was "not a very encouraging review". That was something
of an understatement in a week when the underlying conflict between
the West and Communism erupted on three fronts. While Communists
were undermining United Nations efforts to rescue the Congo from chaos,
two other Communist offensives stirred the Eisenhower Administration
into emergency conferences and serious decisions. _1) CUBA._
Hours after a parade of his new Soviet tanks and artillery, Dictator
Fidel Castro suddenly confronted the U&S& with a blunt and
drastic demand: within 48 hours, the U&S& had to reduce its
embassy and consulate staffs in Cuba to a total of eleven persons (the
embassy staff alone totaled 87 U&S& citizens, plus 120 Cuban
employees). President Eisenhower held an 8:30 a&m& meeting with
top military and foreign-policy advisers, decided to break off diplomatic
relations immediately. "There is a limit to what the United
States in self-respect can endure", said the President. "That limit
has now been reached". Through Secretary Herter, Ike
offered President-elect Kennedy an opportunity to associate his new
Administration with the breakoff decision. Kennedy, through Secretary-designate
of State Dean Rusk, declined. He thus kept his hands
free for any action after Jan& 20, although reaction to the break
was generally favorable in the U&S& and Latin America (<see>
THE HEMISPHERE). _2) LAOS._ After a White House huddle
between the President and top lieutenants, the Defense Department reacted
sharply to a cry from the pro-Western government of Laos that
several battalions of Communist troops had invaded Laos from North
Viet Nam. "In view of the present situation in Laos", said the
Pentagon's announcement, "we are taking normal precautionary actions
to increase the readiness of our forces in the Pacific". Cutting
short a holiday at Hong Kong, the aircraft carriers <Lexington>
and <Bennington> steamed off into the South China Sea, accompanied
by a swarm of destroyers, plus troopships loaded with marines.
On the U&S&'s island base of Okinawa, Task Force 116, made
up of Army, Navy, Marine and Air Force units, got braced to move
southward on signal. But by week's end the Laotian cry of
invasion was read as an exaggeration (<see> FOREIGN NEWS), and
the U&S& was agreeing with its cautious British and French allies
that a neutralist- rather than a pro-Western- government might
be best for Laos. _FRENCH + INDIANS._ There was a moral of
sorts in the Laotian situation that said much about all other cold-war
fronts. Political, economic and military experts were all agreed that
chaotic, mountainous little Laos was the last place in the world
to fight a war- and they were probably right. "It would be like fighting
the French and Indian War all over again", said one military
man. But why was Laos the new Southeast Asian battleground?

At Geneva in 1954, to get the war in Indo-China settled, the

British and French gave in to Russian and Communist Chinese demands
and agreed to the setting up of a Communist state, North Viet
Nam- which then, predictably, became a base for Communist operations
against neighboring South Viet Nam and Laos. The late Secretary
of State John Foster Dulles considered the 1954 Geneva agreement
a specimen of appeasement, saw that resolution would be needed to
keep it from becoming a calamity for the West. He began the diplomatic
discussions that resulted in the establishment of ~SEATO.
"The important thing from now on", he said, "is not to mourn the
past but to seize the future opportunity to prevent the loss in northern
Viet Nam from leading to the extension of Communism throughout
Southeast Asia". Russian tanks and artillery parading through
the streets of Havana, Russian intrigue in the Congo, and Russian
arms drops in Laos (using the same Ilyushin transports that were
used to carry Communist agents to the Congo) made it plain once more
that the cold war was all of a piece in space and time. Soviet Premier
Khrushchev sent New Year's hopes for peace to President-elect
Kennedy, and got a cool acknowledgment in reply. Considering the
state of the whole world, the cold war's three exposed fronts did
not seem terribly ominous; but, in Senator Gore's words, it was
"not a very encouraging" situation that would confront John F&
Kennedy on Inauguration Day.

#THE CONGRESS#

_TURMOIL IN THE
HOUSE_ As the 87th Congress began its sessions last week, liberal
Democrats were ready for a finish fight to open the sluice gates controlled
by the House Rules Committee and permit the free flow of liberal
legislation to the floor. The liberal pressure bloc (which coyly
masquerades under the name Democratic Study Group) had fought the
committee before, and had always lost. This time, they were much better
prepared and organized, and the political climate was favorable.
They had the unspoken support of President-elect Kennedy, whose own
legislative program was menaced by the Rules Committee bottleneck.
And counting noses, they seemed to have the votes to work their will.

_DEADLY DEADLOCK._ There were two possible methods of breaching

the conservative barriers around the Rules Committee: 1) to pack
it with additional liberals and break the conservative-liberal deadlock,
or 2) to remove one of the conservatives- namely Mississippi's
14-term William Meyers Colmer (pronounced Calmer). Caucusing, the
liberals decided to go after Colmer, which actually was the more drastic
course, since seniority in the House is next to godliness.

A dour, gangling man with a choppy gait, Colmer looks younger than
his 70 years, has gradually swung from a moderate, internationalist
position
to that of a diehard conservative. He is generally and initially
suspicious of any federal project, unless it happens to benefit his
Gulf Coast constituents. He is, of course, a segregationist, but
he says he has never made an "anti-Negro" speech. For 20 years he
has enjoyed his power on the Rules Committee. There his vote, along
with those of Chairman Howard Smith, the courtly Virginia judge,
and the four Republican members, could and often did produce a 6-6
deadlock that blocked far-out,
Democratic-sponsored welfare legislation
(a tactic often acceptable to the Rayburn-Johnson congressional leadership
to avoid embarrassing votes). _EQUAL TREATMENT._ There was
sufficient pretext to demand Colmer's ouster: he had given his
lukewarm support to the anti-Kennedy electors in Mississippi. Reprisals
are not unheard of in such situations, but the recent tendency has
been for the Congress to forgive its prodigal sons. In 1949 the Dixiecrats
escaped unscathed after their 1948 rebellion against Harry
Truman, and in 1957,
after Congressman Adam Clayton Powell campaigned
for Dwight Eisenhower in 1956, his fellow Democrats did not touch
his committee assignments, although they did strip him temporarily
of his patronage. (In the heat of the anti-Colmer drive last week,
Judge
Smith threatened reprisal against Powell. Said he: "We will
see whether whites and Negroes are treated the same around here".)
But Speaker Sam Rayburn, after huddling in Palm Beach with
President-elect Kennedy, decided that this year something had to be
done about the Rules Committee- and that he was the only man who could
do anything effective. In a tense, closed-door session with
Judge Smith, Rayburn attempted to work out a compromise: to add
three new members to the Rules Committee (two Democrats, including
one Southerner, and one Republican). Smith flatly rejected the offer,
and Mister Sam thereupon decided to join the rebels. The next
morning he summoned a group of top Democrats to his private office and
broke the news: he would lead the fight to oust Colmer, whom he
is said to regard as "an inferior man". News of
Rayburn's
commitment soon leaked out. When Missouri's Clarence Cannon got
the word, he turned purple. "Unconscionable"! he shouted, and
rushed off to the Speaker's Room to object: "A dangerous precedent"!
Cannon, a powerful, conservative man, brought welcome support
to the Smith-Colmer forces: as chairman of the Appropriations
Committee, he holds over each member the dreadful threat of excluding
this or that congressional district from federal pork-barrel projects.
Sitting quietly on an equally big pork barrel was another Judge
Smith ally, Georgia's Carl Vinson, chairman of the Armed Services
Committee. _THREAT OF WAR._ As the battle raged in the cloakrooms
and caucuses, it became clear that Judge Smith could lose. His
highest count of supporters numbered 72- and he needed nearly twice
that number to control the 260-member Democratic caucus. The liberals,
smelling blood, were faced with the necessity of winning three
big votes- in the Democratic Committee on Committees, in the full
party caucus, and on the floor of the House- before they could oust
Colmer. (One big question: If Colmer was to be purged, what should
the House do about the other three senior Mississippians who supported
the maverick electors?) In all three arenas, they seemed certain
of victory- especially with Sam Rayburn applying his whiplash.

But in the prospect of winning the battle loomed the specter

of losing a costlier war. If the Southerners were sufficiently aroused,
they could very well cut the Kennedy legislative program to ribbons
from their vantage point of committee chairmanships, leaving Sam
Rayburn leading a truncated, unworkable party. With that possibility
in mind, Arkansas' Wilbur Mills deliberately delayed calling a
meeting of the Committee on Committees, and coolheaded Democrats sought
to bring Rayburn and Smith together again to work out some sort
of face-saving compromise. "Here are two old men, mad at each other
and too proud to pick up the phone", said a House Democratic leader.
"One wants a little more power, and the other doesn't want
to give up any". _BATTLE IN THE SENATE_ The Senate launched the
87th Congress with its own version of an ancient liberal-conservative
battle, but in contrast with the House's guerrilla war it seemed
as <pro forma> as a Capitol guide's speech. Question at issue:
How big a vote should be necessary to restrict Senate debate- and
thereby cut off legislation-delaying filibusters? A wide-ranging,
bipartisan force- from Minnesota's Democratic Hubert Humphrey
to Massachusetts' Republican Leverett Saltonstall- was
drawn up against a solid phalanx of Southern Democrats, who have traditionally
used the filibuster to stop civil rights bills. New Mexico's
Clint Anderson offered a resolution to change the Senate's
notorious Rule 22 to allow three-fifths of the Senators present and
voting to cut off debate, instead of the current hard-to-get two-thirds.
Fair Dealer Humphrey upped the ante, asked cloture power for a
mere majority of Senators. Georgia's Dick Russell objected politely,
and the battle was joined. Privately, the liberals admitted
that the Humphrey amendment had no chance of passage. Privately,
they also admitted that their hopes for Clint Anderson's three-fifths
modification depended on none other than Republican Richard Nixon.
In 1957 Nixon delivered a significant opinion that a majority of
Senators had the power to adopt new rules at the beginning of each
new Congress, and that any rules laid down by previous Congresses were
not binding. Armed with the Nixon opinion, the Senate liberals
rounded up their slim majority and prepared to choke off debate
on the filibuster battle this week. Hopefully, the perennial battle
of Rule 22 then would be fought to a settlement once and for all.

#REPUBLICANS#

_LAST ACT_ Since Election Day, Vice President

Richard Nixon had virtually retired- by his own wish- from public
view. But with the convening of the new Congress, he was the public
man again, presiding over the Senate until John Kennedy's Inauguration.
One day last week, Nixon faced a painful constitutional chore
that required him to officiate at a joint session of Congress to
hear the official tally of the Electoral College vote, and then to
make "sufficient declaration" of the election of the man who defeated
him in the tight 1960 presidential election. Nixon fulfilled his
assignment with grace, then went beyond the required "sufficient declaration".

"This is the first time in 100 years that a candidate

for the presidency announced the result of an election in which
he was defeated", he said.

The Masters golf tournament proved last Monday what it can do

to the strongest men and the staunchest nerves. Gary Player, the small,
trim South African, was the eventual winner, but in all his 25
years he never spent a more harrowing afternoon as he waited for the
victory to drop in his lap. Arnold Palmer, the defending champion, lost
his title on the 72nd hole after a few minutes of misfortune that
left even his fellow pros gaping in disbelief. "Just when you
think you have it licked, this golf course can get up and bite you",
Player had said one afternoon midway through the tournament. And
that is just what happened on the last few holes. The Augusta National
Golf Club Course got up and bit both Player and Palmer.

Player was the first to feel its teeth. After playing a splendid first
nine holes in 34- two strokes under par- on this fifth and final
day of the tournament (Sunday's fourth round had been washed out
by a violent rainstorm when it was only half completed), Player's
game rapidly fell to pieces. He bogeyed the 10th. After a journey through
woods and stream he double-bogeyed the 13th. He bogeyed the 15th
by missing a short putt and finally scrambled through the last three
holes without further mishap for a 2-over-par 74 and a 72-hole total
of 280. As he signed his scorecard and walked off the course,
Player was almost in tears. He could read on the nearby scoreboard
that Palmer, by then playing the 15th hole, was leading him by a stroke.
Palmer had started the round four strokes behind Player, and at
one point in the afternoon had trailed by as many as six strokes. Now
all he had to do was finish in even par to collect the trophy and the
biggest single paycheck in golf. When Palmer hit a good straight
drive up the fairway on the 72nd hole, he seemed to have the championship
won. But the seven-iron shot he used to approach the green
strayed into a bunker and lodged in a slight depression. In trying to
hit it out with a sand wedge Palmer bounced the ball over the green,
past spectators and down the slope toward a ~TV tower. Afterwards,
Palmer told Charlie Coe, his last-round partner, that he
simply played the hole too fast. He did seem hasty on his second and
third shots, but then there was an agonizing wait of several minutes while
Coe graciously putted out, giving Palmer a chance to recover his
composure,
which he had quite visibly lost. When the shaken Palmer
finally did hit his fourth shot, he overshot the hole by 15 feet.
Palmer was now putting merely for a tie, and Player, who was sitting
beside his wife and watching it all on television in Tournament Chairman
Clifford Roberts' clubhouse apartment, stared in amazement when
Palmer missed the putt. Palmer's 281 for the four rounds
at Augusta was a comfortable four strokes ahead of the next closest
pro, but it was barely good enough for a second-place tie with Coe.
The lean and leathery Oklahoma amateur, who has been playing topnotch
tournament golf for many years, refused to let the Masters jitters
overtake him and closed the tournament with his second straight 69.

#END
AT SEVEN#

Until late last Saturday afternoon Palmer had played

seven consecutive rounds of golf at the Masters- four last year
and three this- without ever being out of first place. As evening
approached and Palmer finished his Saturday round with a disappointing
one-over-par 73, this remarkable record was still intact, thanks to
his Thursday and Friday rounds of 68 and 69. His three-round total
of 210 was three strokes better than the next best score, a 213 by Bill
Collins, the tall and deliberate Baltimorean who had been playing
very well all winter long. But Palmer knew, as did everybody
else at Augusta, that his streak was about to be broken. Half an hour
after he finished his round, Player holed out at the 18th green with
a 69 and a three-round total of 206, four strokes ahead of Palmer.
More than a streak had ended. Long after the erratic climate
and the washed-out final round on Sunday have become meteorological
footnotes, the 1961 Masters will be remembered as the scene of the
<mano a mano> between Arnold Palmer and Gary Player. Unlike most
such sports rivalries, it appeared to have developed almost spontaneously,
although this was not exactly the case. When the winter
tour began at Los Angeles last January there was no one in sight to
challenge Palmer's towering prestige. As if to confirm his stature,
he quickly won three of the first eight tournaments. Player won only
one. But as the tour reached Pensacola a month ago, Player was
leading Palmer in official winnings by a few hundred dollars, and the
rest of the field was somewhere off in nowhere. On the final round at
Pensacola, the luck of the draw paired Palmer and Player in the same
threesome and, although it was far from obvious at the time, the gallery
was treated to the first chapter of what promises to be one of
the most exciting duels in sport for a long time to come. On
that final Sunday at Pensacola neither Palmer nor Player was leading
the tournament and, as it turned out, neither won it. But whichever
of these two finished ahead of the other would be the undisputed financial
leader of the tour. Player immediately proved he was not in the
least awed by the dramatic proximity of Palmer. He outplayed Palmer
all around the course and finished with a tremendous 65 to Palmer's
71. Thereafter, until the Masters, Player gradually increased
his lead over Palmer in winnings and added one more tournament victory
at Miami. When they reached Augusta last week, together they had
won five of the 13 tournaments to date.

#INSTANT RIVALRY#

On Thursday,
the first day of the Masters, the contest between Palmer and
Player developed instantly. It was a dismal, drizzly day but a good
one on which to score over the Augusta National course. The usually
skiddy greens were moist and soft, so the golfers were able to strike
their approach shots boldly at the flag-stick and putt firmly toward
the hole without too much worry about the consequences. Palmer's 4-under-par
68 got him off to an early lead, which he shared with Bob Rosburg.
But Player was only one stroke back, with a 69. Even
so, it was still not clear to many in the enormous horde of spectators-
unquestionably the largest golf crowd ever- that this tournament
was to be, essentially, a match between Palmer and Player. A lot
of people were still thinking about Jack Nicklaus, the spectacular
young amateur, who had a 70; or Ken Venturi, who had a somewhat shaky
72 but was bound to do better; or Rosburg, whose accurate short
game and supersensitive putter can overcome so many of Augusta's treacheries;
or even old Byron Nelson, whose excellent 71 made one
wonder if he had solved the geriatric aspects of golf. (On Thursday
nobody except Charlie Coe was thinking of Charlie Coe.) On
Friday, a day as cloudless and lovely as Thursday had been gray and
ugly, the plot of the tournament came clearly into focus. Rosburg
had started early in the day, and by the time Palmer and Player were
on the course- separated, as they were destined to be for the rest
of the weekend,
by about half an hour- they could see on the numerous
scoreboards spotted around the course that Rosburg, who ended with a
73, was not having a good day. As Player began his second round
in a twosome with amateur Bill Hyndman, his share of the gallery
was not conspicuously large for a contender. Player began with a birdie
on the first hole, added five straight pars and then another birdie
at the 9th. On the back nine he began to acquire the tidal wave of
a gallery that stayed with him the rest of the tournament. He birdied
the 13th, the 15th and the 18th- five birdies, one bogey and 12 pars
for a 68. Starting half an hour behind Player in company with
British Open Champion Kel Nagle, Palmer birdied the 2nd, the
9th, the 13th and the 16th- four birdies, one bogey and 13 pars for
a 69. The roar of Palmer's gallery as he sank a thrilling putt would
roll out across the parklike landscape of Augusta, only to be answered
moments later by the roar of Player's gallery for a similar triumph.
At one point late in the day, when Palmer was lining up a 25-foot
putt on the 16th, a thunderous cheer from the direction of the 18th
green unmistakably announced that Player had birdied the final hole.
Without so much as a grimace or a gesture to show that he had noticed
(although he later admitted that he had) Palmer proceeded to sink
his 25-footer, and his gallery sent its explosive vocalization rolling
back along the intervening fairways in reply.

#THE BOLDNESS OF CHAMPIONS#

Anyone who now doubted that a personal duel was under way
had only to watch how these exceptionally gifted golfers were playing
this most difficult golf course. It is almost axiomatic that golfers
who dominate the game of golf for any period of time attack their shots
with a vehemence bordering on violence. The bad luck that can so often
mar a well-played round of golf is simply overpowered and obliterated
by the contemptuous boldness of these champions. Bob Jones played
that way. Byron Nelson did, Hogan did. And last week at the Masters
Palmer and Player did. As the third round of the tournament
began on Saturday and the duel was resumed in earnest, it was Player's
superior aggressiveness that carried him into the lead. This
day Palmer had started first. As Player stepped on the first tee
he knew that Palmer had birdied the first two holes and already was
2 under par for the day. Player immediately proceeded to follow suit.
In fact, he went on to birdie the 6th and 8th as well, to go 4 under
par for the first eight holes. But Player's real test came
on the ninth hole, a downhill dogleg to the left measuring 420 yards.
He hit a poor tee shot, pulling it off into the pine woods separating
the 9th and first fairways. Having hit one of the trees, the ball came
to rest not more than 160 yards out. Player then had the choice of
punching the ball safely out of the woods to the 9th fairway and settling
for a bogey 5, or gambling. The latter involved hitting a full
four-wood out to the first fairway and toward the clubhouse, hoping to
slice it back to the deeply bunkered 9th green. "I was hitting
the ball well", Player said later, "and I felt strong. When
you're playing like that you'd better attack". Player attacked
with his four-wood and hit a shot that few who saw it will ever
forget. It struck the 9th green on the fly and stopped just off the
edge. From there he chipped back and sank his putt for a par 4.

Palmer, meanwhile, had been having his troubles. They started on

the 4th hole, a 220-yard par-3. On this day the wind had switched 180`
from the northwest to the southeast, and nearly every shot on the
course was different from the previous few days. At the 4th tee Palmer
chose to hit a one-iron when a three-wood was the proper club, so
he put the ball in a bunker in front of the green. His bogey 4 on this
hole and subsequent bogeys at 5 and 7 along with a birdie at 8 brought
him back to even par. Starting the second nine, Palmer was
already four strokes behind Player and knew it.
When Mickey Charles Mantle, the New York Yankees' man
of muscle, drives a home run 450 feet into the bleachers, his feat touches
upon the sublime. When Roger Eugene Maris, Mantle's muscular
teammate, powers four home runs in a double-header, his performance
merits awe. But when tiny, 145-pound Albert Gregory Pearson of the
Los Angeles Angels, who once caught three straight fly balls in center
field because, as a teammate explained, "the other team thought
no one was out there", hits seven home runs in four months (three
more than his total in 1958, 1959, and 1960), his achievement borders
on the ridiculous. This is Baseball 1961. This is the year home runs
ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous. It is the year when
(1) amiable Jim Gentile of the Baltimore Orioles ambled to the
plate in consecutive innings with the bases loaded and, in unprecedented
style, delivered consecutive grand-slam home runs; (2) Willie Mays
of the San Francisco Giants borrowed a teammate's bat and became
the ninth big leaguer to stroke four home runs in a game; (3) the
Milwaukee Braves tied a major-league record with fourteen home runs
in three games and lost two of them; and (4) catcher Johnny Blanchard
of the New York Yankees matched a record with home runs in four
successive times at bat, two of them as a pinch-hitter. Pitchers
grumble about lively balls and lively bats, the shrinking strike
zone, and the fact that the knock-down pitch is now illegal. Experts
point to the thinning of pitching talent in the American League caused
by expansion. Whatever the reasons, not in 30 years has a single season
produced such thunderous assaults upon the bureau of baseball records,
home-run division. Of all the records in peril, one stands
apart, dramatic in its making, dramatic in its endurance, and now,
doubly dramatic in its jeopardy. This, of course, is baseball's most
remarkable mark: The 60 home runs hit in 1927 by the incorrigible
epicure, the incredible athlete, George Herman (Babe) Ruth of the
Yankees. Since 1927, fewer than a dozen men have made serious
runs at Babe Ruth's record and each, in turn, has been thwarted.
What ultimately frustrated every challenger was Ruth's amazing September
surge. In the final month of the 1927 season, he hit seventeen
home runs, a closing spurt never matched.

#DOUBLE THREAT:#

Always,
in the abortive attacks upon Ruth's record, one man alone- a
Jimmy Foxx (58 in 1932) or a Hank Greenberg (58 in 1938) or a Hack
Wilson (56 in 1930)- made the bid. But now, for the first time
since Lou Gehrig (with 47 home runs) spurred Ruth on in 1927, two men
playing for the same team have zeroed in on 60. Their names are Mantle
and Maris, their team is the Yankees, and their threat is real.

After 108 games in 1927, Ruth had 35 home runs. After 108
games in 1961, Mickey Mantle has 43, Roger Maris 41. Extend Mantle's
and Maris's present paces over the full 1961 schedule of 162
games, and, mathematically, each will hit more than 60 home runs. This
is the
great edge the two Yankees have going for them. To better Ruth's
mark, neither needs a spectacular September flourish. All Mantle
needs is eight more home runs in August and ten in September,
and he will establish a new record. In Ruth's day- and until this
year- the schedule was 154 games. Baseball commissioner Ford Frick
has ruled that Ruth's record will remain official unless it is
broken in 154 games.) "Even on the basis of 154 games, this
is the ideal situation", insists Hank Greenberg, now vice-president
of the Chicago White Sox. "It has to be easier with two of them.
How can you walk Maris to get to Mantle"?

#ROOMMATES:#

Neither Mantle nor Maris, understandably, will predict 60 home runs

for himself. Although both concede they would like to hit 60, they
stick primarily to the baseball player's standard quote: "The
important thing is to win the pennant". But one thing is for certain:
There is no dissension between Mantle, the American League's
Most Valuable Player in 1956 and 1957, and Maris, the ~MVP
in 1960. Each enjoys seeing the other hit home runs ("I hope Roger
hits 80", Mantle says), and each enjoys even more seeing himself
hit home runs ("and I hope I hit 81"). The sluggers get
along so well in fact, that with their families at home for the summer
(Mantle's in Dallas, Maris's in Kansas City), they are rooming
together. Mantle, Maris, and Bob Cerv, a utility outfielder, share
an apartment in Jamaica, Long Island, not far from New York
International Airport. The three pay $251 a month for four rooms (kitchen,
dining room, living room, and bedroom), with air-conditioning
and new modern furniture. Mantle and Cerv use the twin beds in the bedroom;
Maris sleeps on a green studio couch in the living room. They
divide up the household chores: Cerv does most of the cooking (breakfast
and sandwich snacks, with dinner out), Mantle supplies the
transportation (a white 1961 Oldsmobile convertible), and Maris drives
the 25-minute course from the apartment house to Yankee Stadium.
Mantle, Maris, and Cerv probably share one major-league record already:
Among them, they have fifteen children- eight for Cerv, four
for Mantle, and three for Maris. As roommates, teammates,
and home-run mates, Mantle, 29, who broke in with the Yankees ten years
ago, and Maris, 26, who came to the Yankees from Kansas City
two years ago, have strikingly similar backgrounds. Both were scholastic
stars in football, basketball, and baseball (Mantle in Commerce,
Okla&, Maris in Fargo, N&D&); as halfbacks, both came close
to playing football at the University of Oklahoma ("Sometimes
in the minors", Maris recalls, "I wished I had gone to Oklahoma").

To an extent, the two even look alike. Both have blue

eyes and short blond hair. Both are 6 feet tall and weigh between 195
and 200 pounds, but Mantle, incredibly muscular (he has a 17-1/2-inch
neck), looks bigger. With their huge backs and overdeveloped shoulders,
both must have their clothes made to order. Maris purchases $100
suits from Simpson's in New York. Mantle, more concerned with
dress, buys his suits four at a time at Neiman-Marcus in Dallas and
pays as much as $250 each.

#LIGHT READING:#

Neither Mantle nor

Maris need fear being classified an intellectual, but lately Mantle
has shown unusual devotion to an intellectual opus, Henry Miller's
"Tropic of Cancer". Mantle so appreciated Miller's delicate
literary style that he broadened teammates' minds by reading sensitive
passages aloud during road trips. Mantle is not normally
given to public speaking- or, for that matter, to private speaking.
"What do you and Mickey talk about at home"? a reporter asked
Maris recently. "To tell you the truth", Maris said, "Mickey
don't talk much". This is no surprising trait for
a ballplayer. What is surprising and pleasant is that Mantle and Maris,
under constant pressure from writers and photographers, are trying
to be cooperative. Of the two, Mantle is by nature the less
outgoing, Maris the more outspoken. But last week, when a reporter
was standing near Mantle's locker, Mickey walked up and volunteered
an anecdote. "See that kid"? he said, pointing to a dark-haired
11-year-old boy. "That's [Yogi] Berra's. I'll never
forget one time I struck out three times, dropped a fly ball, and we
lost the game. I came back, sitting by my locker, feeling real low,
and the kid walks over to me, looks up, and says: 'You stunk'".

Maris, in talking to reporters, tries to answer all questions

candidly and fully, but on rare occasions, he shuns newsmen. "When
I've made a dumb play", he says, "I don't want to talk to
anyone. I'm angry". By his own confession, Maris is an
angry young man. Benched at Tulsa in 1955, he told manager Dutch Meyer:
"I can't play for you. Send me where I can play". (Meyer
sent him to Reading, Pa&.) Benched at Indianapolis in 1956,
he told manager Kerby Farrell: "I'm not learning anything on
the bench. Play me". (Farrell did- and Maris led the team to victory
in the Little World Series.) "That's the way I am",
he says. "I tell people what I think. If you're a good ballplayer,
you've got to get mad. Give me a team of nine angry men and I'll
give you a team of nine gentlemen and we'll beat you nine out of
ten times".

#IDOLS' IDOLS:#

One good indication of the two

men's personalities is the way they reacted to meeting their own heroes.
Maris's was Ted Williams. "When I was a kid", Maris
told a sportswriter last week, "I used to follow Williams every day
in the box score, just to see whether he got a hit or not".

"When you came up to the majors, did you seek out Williams for advice"?

"Are you kidding"? said Maris. "You're

afraid to talk to a guy you idolize". Mantle's hero was Joe
DiMaggio. "When Mickey went to the Yankees", says Mark Freeman,
an ex-Yankee pitcher who sells mutual funds in Denver, "DiMaggio
still was playing and every day Mickey would go by his locker,
just aching for some word of encouragement from this great man, this
hero of his. But DiMaggio never said a word. It crushed Mickey.
He told me he vowed right then that if he ever got to be a star, this
never would be said of him". Mantle has kept the vow. Among all
the Yankees, he is the veteran most friendly to rookies. Neither
Mantle nor Maris is totally devoted to baseball above all else.
If laying ties on a railroad track, which he once did for $1 an hour,
paid more than playing right field for the Yankees, Maris would
lay ties on a railroad track. If working in a zinc mine, which he once
did for 87-1/2 cents an hour, paid more than playing center field for
the Yankees, Mantle would work in a zinc mine. But since railroading
and mining are not the highest paid arts, Mantle and Maris concentrate
on baseball. They try to play baseball the best they can.

Each is a complete ballplayer. Mantle, beyond any question, can

do more things well. ("One of the reasons they get along fine",
says a sportswriter who is friendly with the two men, "is that both
realize Mantle is head-and-shoulders above Maris".) Hitting,
Mantle
has an immediate advantage because he bats both left-handed and right-handed,
Maris only left-handed. They both possess near classic
stances,
dug in firmly, arms high, set for fierce swings. Mantle is considerably
better hitting for average (.332, fourth in the league, to .280
for Maris so far this year). Both are good bunters: Maris
once beat out eighteen of nineteen in the minor leagues; Mantle
is a master at dragging a bunt toward first base. Both have brilliant
speed: Mantle was timed from home plate (batting left-handed) to
first base in 3.1 seconds, faster than any other major leaguer; Maris
ran the 100-yard dash in ten seconds in high school and once won a
race against Luis Aparicio, the swift, base-stealing shortstop of the
White Sox. Both are good, daring fielders: Mantle covers more
ground; Maris's throwing arm is stronger. Yet with all their
skills, the appeal of Mantle and Maris in 1961 comes down to one
basic: The home run. With this ultimate weapon, the two Yankees
may have saved baseball from its dullest season. (American League expansion
created, inevitably, weaker teams. Only two teams in each league
[the Yankees and Detroit, the Dodgers and Cincinnati] are battling
for first place. Appropriately, the emphasis on the home
run, at a peak this year, came into being at baseball's lowest moment.
In 1920, as the startling news that the 1919 White Sox had conspired
to lose the World Series leaked out, fans grew disillusioned
and disinterested in baseball. Something was needed to revive interest;
the something was the home run.

Into Washington on President-elect John F& Kennedy's

Convair, the <Caroline>, winged Actor-Crooner {Frank Sinatra}
and his close Hollywood pal, Cinemactor Peter Lawford, Jack
Kennedy's brother-in-law. Also included in the entourage: a dog
in a black sweater, Frankie and Peter had an urgent mission: to stage
a mammoth Inauguration Eve entertainment gala in the capital's
National Guard Armory. Frankie was fairly glutted with ideas, as
he had hinted upon his arrival: "It's really tremendous when you
think Ella Fitzgerald is coming from Australia. I could talk to
you for three hours and still not be able to give you all of our plans"!
As the plans were laid, some several thousand fat cats were to
be ensconced in the armory's $100 seats and in 68 ringside boxes priced
at $10,000 each. The biggest single act would doubtless be staged
by Frankie himself: his Inaugural wardrobe had been designed by
Hollywood Couturier Don Loper, who regularly makes up ladies' ensembles.
Soon after Loper leaked the news that Frankie had ordered
"two of everything" just "in case he spills anything", Frankie
got so mad at the chic designer that he vowed he would not wear a stitch
of Loper clothing. @ ##

A year after he was catapulted over

nine officers senior to him and made commandant of the Marine Corps,
General {David M& Shoup} delivered a peppery annual report
in the form of a "happy, warless New Year" greeting to his
Pentagon staff. Said Leatherneck Shoup: "A year ago I took the
grips of the plow in my hands. After pushing an accumulation of vines
and weeds from the moldboard, I lifted the lines from the dust and
found hitched to that plow the finest team I ever held a rein on. Little
geeing and hawing have been necessary". But Shoup also gave
the Corps a tilling in spots. Speaking of "pride", he deplored
the noncommissioned officer "whose uniform looks like it belonged to
someone who retired in 1940; the officer with the yellow socks or
the bay window. A few of these people are still around". @ ##
Old and new briefly crossed paths in the U&S& Senate, then
went their respective ways. At a reception for new members of Congress,
Oregon Democrat {Maurine Neuberger}, taking the Senate seat
held by her husband Richard until his death last March, got a brotherly
buss from Democratic Elder Statesman Adlai Stevenson, U&S&
Ambassador-designate to the U&N&. Meanwhile, after 24 years
in the Senate, Rhode Island's durable Democrat {Theodore
Francis Greene}- having walked, swum and cerebrated himself to
the hearty age of 93- left that august body (voluntarily, because he
could surely have been re-elected had he chosen to run again last November),
as the oldest man ever to serve in the Senate. @ ##

The
most famous undergraduate of South Philadelphia High School is
a current bobby-sox idol, Dreamboat Cacophonist {Fabian} (real
name: Fabian Forte), 17, and last week it developed that he will remain
an undergraduate for a while. The principal of the school announced
that- despite the help of private tutors in Hollywood and Philadelphia-
Fabian is a 10-o'clock scholar in English and mathematics.
Lacking his needed credits in those subjects, Fabian will not
graduate with his old classmates next week. South Philadelphia High's
principal added that the current delay was caused by the "pressure"
of a movie that the toneless lad was making. @ ##

To Decathlon
Man {Rafer Johnson} (TIME cover, Aug& 29), whose gold
medal in last summer's Olympic Games was won as much on gumption
as talent, went the A&A&U&'s James E& Sullivan Memorial
Trophy as the outstanding U&S& amateur athlete of 1960. As
the world's top sportsman-
pro or amateur- SPORTS ILLUSTRATED
tapped golf's confident Arnold Palmer (TIME cover, May
2), who staged two cliffhanging rallies to win both the Masters and
U&S& Open crowns,
went on to win a record $80,738 for the year.
@ ##

Tooling through Sydney on his way to race in the New Zealand

Grand Prix, Britain's balding Ace Driver {Stirling Moss},
31, all but smothered himself in his own exhaust of self-crimination.
"I'm a slob", he announced. "My taste is gaudy. I'm
useless for anything but racing cars. I'm ruddy lazy, and I'm
getting on in years. It gets so frustrating, but then again I don't
know what I could do if I gave up racing". Has Moss no stirling
virtues? "I appreciate beauty". @ ##

One of Nikita
Khrushchev's most enthusiastic eulogizers, the U&S&S&R&'s
daily <Izvestia>, enterprisingly interviewed Red-prone Comedian
{Charlie Chaplin} at his Swiss villa, where he has been in
self-exile since 1952. Chaplin, 71, who met K& when the Soviet boss
visited England in 1956, confided that he hopes to visit Russia
some time this summer because "I have marveled at your grandiose experiment
and I believe in your future". Then Charlie spooned out
some quick impressions of the Nikita he had glimpsed: "I was captivated
by his humor, frankness and good nature and by his kind, strong
and somewhat sly face".
G& David Thompson is one of those names known to the stewards
of transatlantic jetliners and to doormen in Europe's best hotels,
but he is somewhat of an enigma to most people in his own home town
of Pittsburgh. There the name vaguely connotes new-rich wealth, a
reputation for eccentricity, and an ardor for collecting art. Last week,
in the German city of Du^sseldorf, G& David Thompson was
making headlines that could well give Pittsburgh pause. On display were
343 first-class paintings and sculptures from his fabled collection-
and every single one of them was up for sale. Like Philadelphia's
late Dr& Albert C& Barnes who kept his own great collection
closed to the general public (TIME, Jan& 2), Thompson,
at 61, is something of a legend in his own lifetime. He made his
fortune during World War /2, when he took over a number of dying
steel plants and kept them alive until the boom. Even before he hit
big money, he had begun buying modern paintings. He gave the impression
of never having read a word about art, but there was no doubt that
he had an eye for the best. He was able to smell a bargain-
and a masterpiece- a continent away, and the Museum of Modern Art's
Alfred Barr said of him: "I have never mentioned a new artist
that Thompson didn't know about". He might barge into a gallery,
start haggling over prices without so much as a word of greeting.
He could be lavishly generous with friends, cab drivers and bellboys,
but with dealers he was tough. He bought up Cezannes, Braques, Matisses,
Legers, a splendid Picasso series, more than 70 Giacometti
sculptures. He gathered one of the biggest collections of Paul Klees
in the world. All these he hung in his burglarproof home called Stone's
Throw, outside Pittsburgh, and only people he liked and trusted
ever got to see them. Two years ago Thompson offered his
collection to the city. But he insisted that it be housed in a special
museum. Pittsburgh turned him down, just as Pittsburgh society had
been snubbing him for years. He went then to a 40-year-old Basel art
dealer named Ernst Beyeler, with whom he had long been trading pictures.
Last year Beyeler arranged to sell $1,500,000 worth of Klees
to the state of North Rhine-Westphalia, which will house them in
a museum that is yet to be built. Last week most of the other prizes,
once offered to Pittsburgh, went on the block. At the opening
of the Du^sseldorf show, Thompson himself scarcely glanced at the
treasures that he was seeing together for the last time. In fact he
seemed delighted to get rid of them. Some observers speculated that
this might be his revenge on his home town. Thompson himself said:
"I want to enjoy once more the pleasure of bare walls waiting for new
pictures".

#BREAK IN GEORGIA#

The University of Georgia has long claimed that

it does not discriminate against any applicant on the basis
of race or color. But in all its 175 years, not a single Negro
student has entered its classrooms. Last week Federal District Judge
William A& Bootle ordered the university to admit immediately
a "qualified" Negro boy and girl. Their entry will crack the
total segregation of all public education, from kindergarten through graduate
school, in Georgia- and in Alabama, Mississippi and South
Carolina as well. For 18 months, Hamilton Holmes, 19, and
Charlayne Hunter, 18, had tried to get into the university. They graduated
together from Atlanta's Turner High School, where Valedictorian
Holmes was first in the class and Charlayne third. The university
rejected them on a variety of pretexts, but was careful never
to mention the color of their skins. Holmes went to Atlanta's Morehouse
(Negro) College, where he is a B+ student and star halfback.
Charlayne studied journalism at Detroit's Wayne State University.
Last fall, after they took their hopes for entering Georgia to
court, Judge Bootle ordered them to apply again. Charlayne
was "tentatively" admitted for next fall, after state investigators
questioned her white roommate at Wayne State. But Holmes was rejected
again "on the basis of his record and interview". The evidence
in court was testimony about the interview, which for Holmes lasted
an hour, although at least one white student at Georgia got through
this ritual by a simple phone conversation. Holmes was asked if he
had ever visited a house of prostitution, or a "beatnik parlor or teahouse".
No, said he, but officials still called him "evasive".
They also said he lied in saying that he had never been "arrested".
Their reason: Holmes once paid a $20 speeding fine, had his license
suspended. Negro lawyers dug into the records of 300 white
students, found that many were hardly interviewed at all- and few
had academic records as good as Hamilton Holmes. The real reason
for his rejection, they argued, is the fact that Georgia law automatically
cuts off funds for any desegregated school. Judge Bootle's
decision: "The two plaintiffs are qualified for admission
to said university and would already have been admitted had it not been
for their race and color". The state will appeal- but few think
it will actually try to close the university. "Surprised and pleased",
Students Holmes and Hunter may enter the University of Georgia
this week.

#CATCH FOR CHICAGO#

When the University of

Chicago's Chancellor Lawrence A& Kimpton
submitted his resignation last March, a mighty talent hunt
gripped the Midway. Out went letters to 60,000 old grads, asking for
suggestions. Such academic statesmen as James B& Conant were consulted.
Two committees pondered 375 possible Kimpton successors, including
Adlai Stevenson, Richard Nixon, and Harvard's Dean McGeorge
Bundy. The debate led to a decision that Chicago needed neither
a big name nor an experienced academic administrator, but rather,
as Trustee Chairman Glen A& Lloyd put it, "a top scholar in
his own right"- a bright light to lure other top scholars to Chicago.

Last week Chicago happily found its top scholar in Caltech's

acting dean of the faculty: dynamic Geneticist George Wells
Beadle, 57, who shared the 1958 Nobel Prize in medicine and physiology
for discovering how genes affect heredity by controlling cell
chemistry (TIME, Cover, July 14, 1958). It fell to Chancellor
Kimpton, now a Standard Oil (Indiana) executive, to spend
his nine-year reign tidying up Chicago after the 21-year typhoon of
Idealist Robert Maynard Hutchins. He threw out some of Hutchins'
more wildly experimental courses, raised sagging undergraduate enrollment
to 2,100, nearly doubled endowment to $139.3 million. But though
Kimpton put Chicago in what he felt was working order, some old grads
feel that it still needs the kind of lively teachers who filled it
in the heady Hutchins era. At Caltech, Geneticist Beadle
has stuck close to his research as head of the school's famous biology
division since 1946. But he has shown a sixth-sense ability to spot,
recruit and excite able researchers, and has developed unexpected
talents in fund raising and speech-making. Beadle is even that rare
scientist
who takes an interest in money matters; he avidly reads the
<Wall Street Journal>, and took delight in driving a $250 model ~A
Ford for 22 years, then selling it for $300.

A philosopher may point out that the troubles of the Congo began
with the old Adam and consequently will never end. But a historian
might put his finger on a specific man and date, and hold out the hope
that the troubles will sometime pass away. The man was King Leopold
/2, of the Belgians, who in 1885 concluded that he had better
grab a colony while the grabbing was still good. By force, he took under
his protection, or stole, 900,000 square miles of wilderness in Central
Africa. This is an area nearly as large as Western Europe;
and it was filled then as now by quarreling tribes with no political
or historical unity. Its boundaries had nothing to do with geography
or ethnic groupings; they were determined by the points at which Leopold's
explorers and gunmen got tired of walking. The population
of the Congo is 13.5 million, divided into at least seven major
"culture clusters" and innumerable tribes speaking 400 separate
dialects. The religions of the people include Christianity, Mohammedanism,
paganism, ancestor worship and animism. The climate ranges from
the steamily equatorial to the temperate. The hospitals contain patients
trampled by elephants or run over by sports cars. To make one
nation out of these disparities would be a problem large enough in any
case; it has been made far more difficult by what the Belgians have
done, or failed to do, in the Congo since 1885. At first the
Belgian royal family administered the Congo as its own private property.
But by 1908 its record of brutality had touched the national conscience.
The Belgian government itself took over administration, commencing
a program of paternalism unmatched in the history of colonialism.
One definition of paternalism is "The principle or practice,
on the part of a government, of managing the affairs of a country in
the manner of a father dealing with his children". The honor of the
Belgians in this matter is not to be questioned- only their judgment.
Ordinarily a father permits his children to grow up in due time-
but when the colony received independence in 1960 the Congolese child,
if one imagines him to have been born in 1908, was 52 and had until
then been treated as an infant. ##

The Belgians were interested

primarily in the economic development of the Congo, which is rich in
copper, tin, cobalt, manganese, zinc, and uranium, and cotton and palm
oil. The colony was administered from Brussels, with neither the
Congolese nor the resident Belgians having any vote. The beneficiaries
of this administration were a number of huge cartels in which both
individuals and the Belgian government itself held stock. In <Inside
Africa>, John Gunther describes one of these, the Societe Generale,
as "the kind of colossus that might be envisaged if, let us
say, the House of Morgan, Anaconda Copper, the Mutual Life Insurance
Company of New York, the Pennsylvania Railroad, and various
companies producing agricultural products were lumped together, with
the United States <government> as a heavy partner". Had
they been truly ruthless, the Belgians might have exploited the Congolese
without compassion. But they were not. They provided a social
security system which covered all their African employes; their program
of mass medical care was doubtless the best on the continent;
they put much effort into public housing. They also instituted a ration
system under which all employers in the Congo were required to furnish
their employes with clothing and adequate food. But instead of
delivering the ration- either in actual commodities or in cash- at
intervals of perhaps two weeks or a month, the Belgians felt obliged
to dole it out more often. Would not the children, if they received all
their food on the first day of the month, eat it up immediately, and
later go hungry? The Belgians also placed great emphasis
on education. During the 1950s there were as many as 25,000 schools in
the Congo. But almost all the schools were primary. The average Congolese
can do little more than puzzle out the meaning of "<la chatte>"
and "<le chien>" and write his name. Some schools were
technical- the Belgians needed carpenters and mechanics to help exploit
the land, and trained many. But they did not believe in widespread
secondary education, much less in college. It was their conviction
that the people should be "brought up together", a grade at a time,
until in some indefinite future some might be ready to tackle history,
economics and political science. Indeed, the Belgians discouraged
higher education, fearing the creation of a native intellectual elite
which might cause unrest. When the Congo received its independence
in 1960 there were, among its 13.5 million people, exactly 14 university
graduates. ##

Why did the Belgians grant independence to a

colony so manifestly unprepared to accept it? In one large oversimplification,
it might be said that the Belgians felt, far too late, the
gale of nationalism sweeping Africa. They lacked time to prepare
the Congo, as the British and French had prepared their colonies. The
Congolese were clamoring for their independence, even though most
were unsure what it meant; and in Brussels, street crowds shouted,
"<Pas une goutte de sang!>" (Not one drop of blood!). The
Belgians would not fight for the privilege of being the detested pedagogue;
rather than teach where teaching was not wanted, they would
wash their hands of the mess. It is hard to blame them for this. Yet
there were other motivations and actions which the Belgians took after
independence for which history may not find them guiltless.
As the time for independence approached there were in the Congo no
fewer than 120 political parties, or approximately eight for each university
graduate. There were four principal ones. First, there were those
Congolese (among them Joseph Kasavubu) who favored splitting the
country into small independent states, Balkanizing it. Second, there
were those (Moise Tshombe) who favored near-Balkanization, a loose
federalism having a central government of limited authority, with
much power residing in the states. Third, there were those (notably Patrice
Lumumba) who favored a unified Congo with a very strong central
government. And fourth, there were moderates who were in no hurry
for independence and wished to wait until the Congo grew up. However,
the positions of all parties and leaders were constantly shifting.

A final factor which contributed greatly to the fragmentation

of the Congo, immediately after independence, was the provincial structure
that had been established by the Belgians for convenience in administration.
They had divided the Congo into six provinces- Leopoldville,
Kasai, Kivu, Katanga, Equator and Eastern- unfortunately
with little regard for ethnic groupings. Thus some provinces contained
tribes which detested each other, and to them independence meant
an opportunity for war. The Belgian Congo was granted its independence
with what seemed a workable Western-style form of government:
there were to be a president and a premier, and a bicameral legislature
elected by universal suffrage in the provinces. Well-wishers
around the world hoped that the Congo would quickly assume a respectable
position in the society of nations. If internal frictions arose,
they could be handled by the 25,000-man Congolese army, the <Force
Publique>, which had been trained and was still officered by white
Belgians. The president, Joseph Kasavubu, seemed an able administrator
and the premier, Patrice Lumumba, a reasonable man. Twenty-four
hours after independence the wild tribesmen commenced fighting
each other. Presently the well-armed members of the <Force Publique>-
many of them drawn from savage and even cannibalistic tribes,
erupted in mutiny, rioting, raping and looting. Terror engulfed the thousands
of Belgian civilians who had remained in the country. The Belgian
government decided to act, and on July 10 dispatched paratroops
to the Congo. On July 11 the head of the mineral-rich province of
Katanga, Moise Tshombe, announced that his province had seceded from
the country. Confusion became chaos; each succeeding day brought
new acts of violence. Lumumba and Kasavubu blamed it all on the military
intervention by the Belgians, and appealed to the United Nations
to send troops to oust them. ##

On July 14 the Security

Council-
with France and Great Britain abstaining- voted the resolution
which drew the U&N& into the Congo. Vague in wording, it
called for withdrawal of Belgian troops and authorized the Secretary-General
"to take the necessary steps **h to provide the [Congolese]
Government with such military assistance as may be necessary, until,
through the efforts of the Congolese Government with the technical
assistance of the United Nations, the national security forces
may be able, in the opinion of the Government, to meet fully their tasks
**h". Secretary-General Hammarskjo^ld decided that it
would be preferable if the U&N& troops sent into the Congo were
to come from African, or at least nonwhite, nations- certainly not
from the U&S&,
Russia, Great Britain or France. He quickly
called on Ghana, Tunisia, Morocco, Guinea and Mali, which dispatched
troops within hours. Ultimately the U&N& army in the Congo
reached a top strength of 19,000, including about 5,000 from India
and a few soldiers from Eire and Sweden, who were the only whites.

It took the U&N& three months to bring a modest form of

order to the Congo. The Belgians were reluctant to withdraw their troops
and often obstructed U&N& efforts. The wildly erratic nature
of Patrice Lumumba caused constant problems- he frequently announced
that he wanted the U&N& to get out of the Congo along with
the Belgians, and appealed to Russia for help. (However, there is
little evidence that the late Lumumba was a Communist. Before appealing
to the U&N& or to Russia, he first appealed to the U&S&
for military help, and was rejected.) Lumumba further complicated
the U&N&'s mission by initiating small "wars" with the
secessionist province of Katanga and with South Kasai which, under
Albert Kalonji, wanted to secede as well. Meanwhile Russia took every
opportunity to meddle in the Congo, sending Lumumba equipment for
his "wars", dispatching "technicians" and even threatening,
on occasion, to intervene openly. But by the end of the three-month
period, in October 1960, something approaching calm settled on
the Congo. President Kasavubu became exasperated with Lumumba and
fired him. Lumumba fired Kasavubu. Control of the government- such
control as there was and such government as there was- passed into
the hands of Joseph Mobutu, chief of staff of the Congolese army.
Mobutu promptly flung out the Russians, who have not since played any
significant part on the local scene, although they have redoubled their
obstructionist efforts at U&N& headquarters in New York.
The Belgians- at least officially- departed from the Congo as well,
withdrawing all of their uniformed troops. But they left behind
them large numbers of officers, variously called "volunteers" or
"mercenaries", who now staff the army of Moise Tshombe in Katanga,
the seceded province which, according to Tshombe, holds 65% of
the mineral wealth of the entire country. From October 1960
to February 1961, the U&N& forces in the Congo took little action.
There was no directive for it- the Security Council's resolution
had not mentioned political matters, and in any case the United
Nations by the terms of its charter may not interfere in the political
affairs of any nation, whether to unify it, federalize it or Balkanize
it. During the five-month lull, civil war smoldered and
flickered throughout the Congo. In February the murder of Patrice
Lumumba, who had been kidnaped into Katanga and executed on order of
Tshombe, again stirred the U&N& to action. On Feb& 21 the
council passed another resolution urging the taking of "all appropriate
measures to prevent the occurrence of civil war in the Congo, including
**h the use of force, if necessary, in the last resort". Although
the resolution might have been far more specific, it was considerably
tougher than the earlier one. It also urged that the U&N&
eject, and prevent the return of, all Belgian and other foreign military
and political advisers; ordered an investigation of Lumumba's
death; urged the reconvention of the Congolese Parliament and the
reorganization of the army.

#THE PRESIDENCY: TALKING AND LISTENING#

Though President John

F& Kennedy was primarily concerned with the crucial problems of Berlin
and disarmament adviser McCloy's unexpected report from Khrushchev,
his new enthusiasm and reliance on personal diplomacy involved
him in other key problems of U&S& foreign policy last week.

High up on the President's priority list was the thorny question

of Bizerte. On this issue, the President received a detailed
report from his U&N& Ambassador Adlai Stevenson, who had just
returned from Paris, and Mr& Kennedy asked Stevenson to search
for a face-saving
way- for both Paris and Tunis- out of the imbroglio.
Ideally, the President would like the French to agree on a "status
quo ante" on Bizerte, and accept a new timetable for withdrawing
their forces from the Mediterranean base. To continue their important
conversations about the Tunisian issue and the whole range of
other problems, Mr& Kennedy invited stevenson to Cape Cod for
the weekend.

The President also discussed the Bizerte deadlock with

the No& 2 man in the Tunisian Government, Defense Minister Bahi
Ladgham, who flew to Washington last week to seek U&S& support.
The conversation apparently convinced Mr& Kennedy that the
positions of France and Tunisia were not irreconcilable. Through Ladgham,
Mr& Kennedy sent a message along those lines to Tunisian
President Habib Bourguiba; and one U&S& official said: "The
key question now is which side picks up the phone first".

On the Latin American front, the President held talks with Secretary
of the Treasury Douglas Dillon before sending him to Uruguay
and the Inter-American Economic and Social Council (which the President
himself had originally hoped to attend). Main purpose of the
meeting: To discuss President Kennedy's Alliance for Progress.
And that was not all. In conferences with Nationalist China's
dapper, diminutive Vice President Chen Cheng, Mr& Kennedy
assured Chiang Kai-shek's emissary that the U&S& is as
firmly opposed as ever to the admission of Red China to the United
Nations. Chen was equally adamant in his opposition to the admission
of Outer Mongolia; however the President, who would like to woo
the former Chinese province away from both Peking and Moscow, would
promise Chen nothing more than an abstention by the U&S& if Outer
Mongolia's admission comes to a vote. The President
also conferred with emissaries from Guatemala and Nepal who are seeking
more foreign aid. To Africa, he sent his most trusted adviser,
his brother, Attorney General Robert Kennedy, on a good-will mission
to the Ivory Coast. All week long the President clearly was playing
a larger personal role in foreign affairs; in effect, he was practicing
what he preached in his Berlin message two weeks ago when he
declared:
"We shall always be prepared to discuss international problems
with any and all nations that are willing to talk, and listen, with
reason".

#CRIME: 'SKYJACKED'#

From International Airport

in Los Angeles to International Airport in Houston, as the
great four-jet Boeing 707 flies, is a routine five hours and 25 minutes,
including stopovers at Phoenix, El Paso, and San Antonio. When
Continental Airlines night-coach Flight 54 took off at 11:30 one
night last week, there was no reason to think it would take any longer.

The plane put down on schedule at 1:35 a&m& in Phoenix.

Thirty-one minutes later, when it took off for El Paso, hardly
anyone of the crew of six or the 65 other passengers paid any attention
to the man and teen-age boy who had come aboard. At 3:58 a&m&,
with the plane about twenty minutes out of El Paso, passenger Robert
Berry, a San Antonio advertising man, glanced up and saw the
man and boy, accompanied by a stewardess, walking up the aisle toward
the cockpit. "The man was bent over with his hand on his stomach",
Berry said. "I figured he was sick". John Salvador, a
farmer from Palm Desert, Calif&, was sitting up front and could
see through the door as the trio entered the cockpit. "The kid had
a .45 automatic, like they issue in the Army", he said. "The other
fellow had a .38". Salvador saw the youth hold his .45 against the
head of stewardess Lois Carnegey; the man put his .38 at the head
of Capt& Byron D& Rickards. To Rickards, a 52-year-old
veteran 30 years in the air, it was an old story: His plane was
being hijacked in mid-flight again much as it had happened in 1930, when
Peruvian rebels made him land a Ford tri-motor at Arequipa. But
last week's pirates, like the Cuban-American who recently hijacked
an Eastern Airlines Electra (NEWSWEEK, Aug& 7), wanted to
go to Havana. _STALLING:_ "Tell your company there are four
of us here
with guns", the elder man told Rickards. The pilot radioed
El Paso International Airport with just that message. But, he
told the "skyjackers", the 707 didn't carry enough fuel to reach
Havana; they would have to refuel at El Paso. Most passengers
didn't know what had happened until they got on the ground.
Jerry McCauley of Sacramento, Calif&, one of some twenty Air Force
recruits on board, awoke from a nap in confusion. "The old man
came from the front of the plane and said he wanted four volunteers
to go to Cuba", McCauley said, "and like a nut I raised my hand.
I thought he was the Air Force recruiter". What the man
wanted was four persons to volunteer as hostages, along with the crew.
They chose four: Jack Casey, who works for Continental Airlines
in Houston; Fred Mullen from Mercer Island, Wash&;
Pfc&
Truman Cleveland of St& Augustine. Fla&, and Leonard Gilman,
a former college boxer and veteran of the U&S& Immigration
Service Border Patrol. Everybody else was allowed to file off the
plane after it touched down at El Paso at 4:18 a&m&.
They found a large welcoming group- El Paso policemen, Border Patrol,
sheriff's deputies, and ~FBI men, who surged around the
plane with rifles and submarine guns. Other ~FBI men, talking with
the pilot from the tower, conspired with him to delay the proposed
flight to Havana. The ground crew, which ordinarily fuels a 707 in twenty
minutes, took fully three hours. Still more time was consumed while
the pilot, at the radioed suggestion of Continental president Robert
Six, tried to persuade the armed pair to swap the Boeing jet for
a propeller-driven Douglas ~DC-7. Actually, the officers
on the ground had no intention of letting the hijackers get away with
any kind of an airplane; they had orders to that effect straight
from President Kennedy, who thought at first, as did most others, that
it was four followers of Cuba's Fidel Castro who had taken over
the 707. Mr& Kennedy had been informed early in the day of the
attempt to steal the plane, kept in touch throughout by telephone. At
one time, while still under the impression that he was dealing with a
Cuban plot, the President talked about invoking a total embargo on
trade with Cuba. As the morning wore on and a blazing West Texas
sun wiped the shadows off the Franklin Mountains, police got close
enough to the plane to pry into the baggage compartment. From the
luggage, they learned that the two air pirates, far from being Cubans,
were native Americans, subsequently identified as Leon Bearden,
50-year-old ex-convict from Coolidge, Ariz&, and his son, Cody,
16, a high-school junior. _TENSION_ The heat and strain began
to tell on the Beardens. The father, by accident or perhaps to show,
as he said, "we mean business", took the .45 and fired a slug
between the legs of Second Officer Norman Simmons. At 7:30 a&m&,
more than three hours after landing, the Beardens gave an ultimatum:

Take off or see the hostages killed. The tower

cleared the plane for take-off at 8 a&m&, and Captain Rickards
began taxiing toward the runway. Several police cars, loaded with
armed officers, raced alongside, blazing away at the tires of the
big jet. The slugs flattened ten tires and silenced one of the inboard
engines; the plane slowed to a halt. Ambulances, baggage trucks,
and cars surrounded it. The day wore on. At 12:50 p&m&
a ramp was rolled up to the plane. A few minutes later, ~FBI agent
Francis Crosby, talking fast, eased up the ramp to the plane, unarmed.
While Crosby distracted the Beardens, stewardesses Carnegey
and Toni Besset dropped out of a rear door. So did hostages Casey,
Cleveland, and Mullen. That left only the four crew members, Crosby,
and Border Patrolman Gilman, all unarmed, with the Beardens.
The elder Bearden had one pistol in his hand, the other in a hip pocket.
Gilman started talking to him until he saw his chance. He caught
officer Simmons' eye, nodded toward young Bearden, and- "I
swung my right as hard as I could. Simmons and Crosby jumped the boy
and it was all over". Frog-marched off the airplane at 1:48
p&m&, the Beardens were held in bail of $100,000 each on charges
of kidnapping and transporting a stolen plane across state lines.
(Bearden reportedly hoped to peddle the plane to Castro, and live high
in Cuba.) Back home in Coolidge, Ariz&, his 36-year-old wife,
Mary, said: "I thought they were going to Phoenix to look for
jobs".

#CONGRESS: MORE MUSCLE#

Taking precedence over all other

legislation on
Capitol Hill last week was the military strength of
the nation. The Senate put other business aside as it moved with unaccustomed
speed and unanimity to pass- 85 to 0- the largest peacetime
defense budget in U&S& history. With the money all
but in hand, however, the Administration indicated that, instead of
the 225,000 more men in uniform that President Kennedy had requested,
the armed forces would be increased by only 160,000. The "hold-back",
as Pentagon mutterers labeled it, apparently was a temporary
expedient intended to insure that the army services are built up gradually
and, thus, the new funds spent prudently. In all, the Senate
signed a check for $46.7 billion, which not only included the extra
$3.5 billion requested the week before by President Kennedy, but
tacked on $754 million more than the President had asked for. (The
Senate, on its own, decided to provide additional ~B-52 and other
long-range bombers for the Strategic Air Command.) The House, which
had passed its smaller appropriation before the President's urgent
call for more, was expected to go along with the increased defense
budget in short order. In other areas, Congressional action last
week included: @ The Senate (by voice vote) and the House
(by 224-170) passed and sent to the White House the compromise
farm bill which the President is expected to sign, not too unhappily.

@ The Senate also voted $5.2 billion to finance the government's

health, welfare, and labor activities. Debate on the
all-important foreign-aid
bill, with its controversial long-range proposals,
had just begun on the Senate floor at the weekend. White House
legislative aides were still confident the bill would pass intact.

#FOOD: STEW A LA MULLIGATAWNY#

Most members of the U&S& Senate,

because they are human, like to eat as high on the hog as they
can. But, because they are politicians, they like to talk as poor-mouth
as the lowliest voter. As a result, ever since 1851 when the Senate
restaurant opened in the new wing of the Capitol Building, the senators
have never ceased to grumble about the food- even while they
opposed every move that might improve it. Over the years, enlivened
chiefly by disputes about the relative merits of Maine and Idaho
potatoes, the menu has pursued its drab all-American course. Individual
senators, with an eye to the voters back home, occasionally introduced
smelts from Michigan, soft-shell crabs from Maryland, oysters
from Washington, grapefruit from Florida. But plain old bean soup,
served daily
since the turn of the century (at the insistence of the
late Sen& Fred Dubois of Idaho), made clear to the citizenry that
the Senate's stomach was in the right place. In a daring
stroke, the Senate ventured forth last week into the world of haute
cuisine and hired a $10,000-per-year French-born maitre d'hotel.
{Holders of toll-road bonds are finding improvements in monthly
reports on operation of the turnpikes}. {Long-term trend
of traffic on these roads seems clearly upward. Higher toll rates
also are helping boost revenues}. {Result is a better prospect
for a full payoff by bonds that once were regarded as highly speculative}.

Things are looking up these days for many of the

State turnpikes on which investors depend for income from their toll-road
bonds. traffic on nearly all the turnpikes has been growing.
That added traffic means rising streams of dimes and quarters at toll
gates. As a result of the new outlook for turnpikes, investors
who bought toll-road bonds when these securities ranked as outright
speculations are now finding new hope for their investments.

Another
result is that buyers are tending to bid up the prices of these
tax-exempt bonds. Other tax-exempt bonds of State and local
governments hit a price peak on February 21, according to Standard
+ Poor's average. On balance, prices of those bonds have slipped
a bit since then. However, in the same three-month period, toll-road
bonds, as a group, have bucked this trend. On these bonds, price rises
since February 21 easily outnumber price declines.

#TAX-FREE RETURNS.#

Investors, however, still see an element of more-than-ordinary

risk in the toll-road bonds. You find the evidence of that in the
chart on this page. Many of the toll-road bonds still are selling
at prices that offer the prospect of an annual yield of 4 per cent,
or very close to that. And this is true in the case of some turnpikes
on which revenues have risen close to, or beyond, the point at which
the roads start to pay all operating costs plus annual interest on
the bonds. That 4 per cent yield is well below the return to be
had on good corporation bonds. It's not much more, in fact, than
the return that is offered on U& S& Treasury bonds. For
investors whose income is taxed at high rates, though, a tax-free yield
of 4 per cent is high. It is the equivalent of 8 per cent for an unmarried
investor with more than $16,000 of income to be taxed, or for
a married couple with more than $32,000 of taxed income.

#SWELLING
TRAFFIC.#

A new report on the earnings records of toll roads in the

most recent 12-month period- ending in February or March- shows
what is happening. The report is based on a survey by Blyth + Company,
investment bankers. Nearly all the turnpikes show gains in
net revenues during the period. And there is the bright note:
The gains were achieved in the face of temporary traffic lags late
in 1960 and early in 1961 as a result of business recession. Many
of the roads also were hit by an unusually severe winter. Indication:
The long-term trend of turnpike traffic is upward. Look,
for example, at the Ohio Turnpike. Traffic on that road slumped
sharply in January and February, as compared with those same months
in 1960. Then March brought an 18 per cent rise in net revenues-
after operating costs. As a result, the road's net revenues
in the 12 months ending March 31 were 186 per cent of the annual interest
payments on the turnpike bonds. That was up from 173 per cent
in the preceding 12 months. That same pattern of earnings shows
up on the Massachusetts Turnpike. Operating revenues were off in
the first three months of 1961, but up for the 12 months ending in March.
Costs were held down, despite a bitter winter. For the
year, the road earned 133 per cent of its interest costs, against 121
per cent in the preceding period. The road's engineers look for further
improvement when the turnpike is extended into Boston.

#SLOW SUCCESSES.#

Some turnpikes have not been in full operation long enough

to prove what they can do. The 187-mile Illinois State Toll
Highway,
for example, was not opened over its entire length until December, 1958.
In the 12 months ended in February, 1960, the highway earned enough
to cover 64 per cent of its interest load- with the remainder paid
out of initial reserves. In the 12 months ended in February, 1961,
this highway earned 93 per cent of its interest. That improvement
is continuing. In the first two months of 1961, earnings of the
Illinois highway available for interest payments were up 55 per cent
from early 1960. Success, for many turnpikes, has come hard.
Traffic frequently has failed to measure up to engineers' rosy estimates.
In these cases, the turnpike managements have had to turn to
toll-rate increases, or to costly improvements such as extensions or
better
connections with other highways. Many rate increases already
have been put into effect. Higher tolls are planned for July 1,
1961, on the Richmond-Petersburg, Va&, Turnpike, and proposals for
increased tolls on the Texas Turnpike are under study.

#EASIER
ACCESS.#

Progress is being made, too, in improving motorists' access

to many turnpikes. The Kansas Turnpike offers an illustration.
Net earnings of that road rose from 62 per cent of interest requirements
in calendar 1957 to 86 per cent in the 12 months ended Feb& 28,
1961. Further improvements in earnings of the Kansas Turnpike
are expected late in 1961, with the opening of a new bypass at Wichita,
and still later when the turnpike gets downtown connections in
both Kansas City, Kans&, and Kansas City, Mo&. Meanwhile, there
appears to be enough money in the road's reserve fund to cover
the interest deficiency for eight more years.

#FOR SOME ROADS, TROUBLES.#

Investors studying the toll-road bonds for opportunities find

that not all roads are nearing their goals. Traffic and revenues
on the Chicago Skyway have been a great disappointment to planners
and investors alike. If nothing is done, the prospect is that that
road will be in default of interest in 1962. West Virginia toll bonds
have defaulted in interest for months, and, despite recent improvement
in revenues, holders of the bonds are faced with more of the same.

These, however, are exceptions. The typical picture at this

time is one of steady improvement. It's going to take time
for investors to learn how many of the toll-road bonds will pay out in
full. Already, however, several of the turnpikes are earning enough
to cover interest requirements by comfortable margins. Many others are
attracting the traffic needed to push revenues up to the break-even
point.
##

@ A top American official, after a look at Europe's

factories, thinks the <U&S& is in a "very serious situation"
competitively.> <Commerce Secretary Luther Hodges,>
accompanied by a member of our staff, on May 10 toured plants of
two of Italy's biggest companies- <Fiat,> the auto producer,
and <Olivetti,> maker of typewriters and calculating machines.

Our staff man cabled from Turin as follows- "Follow

Secretary Hodges through the Fiat plant, and you learn this:

"One, <modern equipment>- much of it supplied under the

Marshall Plan- enables Fiat to turn out 2,100 cars a day. About
half of these are exported. "Two, <wage costs> are a fraction
of the U&S& costs. A skilled worker on the assembly line,
for example, earns $37 a week. "Three, <labor troubles>
are infrequent. Fiat officials say they have had no strikes for more
than six years. "Said Secretary Hodges: 'It's a tough
combination for the U&S& to face'. <"Olivetti
had a special interest> for Hodges. Olivetti took over Underwood,
the U&S& typewriter maker, in late 1959. Within a year, without
reducing wages, Underwood's production costs were cut one third,
prices were slashed. The result has been that exports of Underwood
products have doubled. "The Olivetti plant near Turin has
<modern layout, modern machinery.> The firm is <design-conscious,
sales-conscious, advertising-conscious.> "Hodges is
trying
to get more foreign business to go to the U&S&. The inflow
of foreign capital would help the U&S& balance of payments.

"Hodges predicted: 'I think we will see more foreign firms

coming to the U&S&.
There are many places where we can use their
vigor and new ideas'". ##

@ <Foreign competition> has

become so severe in certain textiles that Washington is exploring new
ways of handling competitive imports. The recently unveiled
<Kennedy moves to control the international textile market> can be
significant for American businessmen in many lines. <Important
aspects> of the Kennedy textile plans are these: <An
international conference> of the big textile-importing and textile-exporting
countries will be called shortly by President Kennedy.

<Chief aims of the proposed conference> are worth noting.

The U&S& will try to get agreement among the industrialized

countries to <take more textile imports> from the less-developed
countries over the years. <Point is> that developing countries
often build up a textile industry first, need encouragement to
get on their feet. If they have trouble exporting, international bill
for their support will grow larger than it otherwise would. <Idea
is> to let these countries earn their way as much as possible.
##

@ At the same time, <another purpose> of the conference

will be to get certain low-wage countries to control textile exports-
especially dumping of specific products- to high-wage textile-producing
countries. <Japan,> since 1957, has been "voluntarily"
curbing exports of textiles to the U&S&. <Hong Kong,
India and Pakistan> have been limiting exports of certain types
of textiles to Britain for several years under the "Lancashire Pact".

None of these countries is happy with these arrangements.

<The Japanese want to increase exports to the U&S&>

While they have been curbing shipments, they have watched Hong Kong
step in and capture an expanding share of the big U&S& market.

<Hong Kong interests> loudly protest limiting their exports

to Britain, while Spanish and Portuguese textiles pour into
British market unrestrictedly. <The Indians and Pakistanis>
are chafing under similar restrictions on the British market for
similar reasons. <The Kennedy hope> is that, at the conference
or through bilateral talks, the low-wage textile-producing countries
in Asia and Europe will see that "dumping" practices cause
friction all around and may result in import quotas. <Gradual,
controlled expansion> of the world's textile trade is what President
Kennedy wants. This may point the way toward international stabilization
agreements in other products. <It's an important clue
to Washington thinking.> ##

@ Note, too, that the Kennedy

textile plan looks toward modernization or shrinkage of the U&S&
textile industry. <"Get competitive or get out".> In
veiled terms, that's what the Kennedy Administration is saying to
the American textile industry. <The Government will help> in
transferring companies and workers into new lines, where modernization
doesn't seem feasible. <Special depreciation> on new textile machinery
may be allowed. <Government research> will look into new
products and methods. <Import quotas aren't ruled out>
where the national interest is involved. But the Kennedy Administration
<doesn't favor> import quotas. Rather, they are impressed
with the British Government's success in forcing- and helping-
the British textile industry to shrink and to change over to
other products. What's happening in textiles can be <handwriting
on the wall> for other lines having difficulty competing with
imports from low-wage countries. ##

@ Among the highest-paid workers

in the world are U&S& coal miners. Yet U&S& coal is
cheap enough to make foreign steelmakers' mouths water. <Steel
Company of Wales,> a British steelmaker, wants to bring in
Virginia coal, cut down on its takings of Welsh coal in order to be
able to compete more effectively- especially in foreign markets.

<Virginia coal,> delivered by ship in Wales, will be about

$2.80 a ton cheaper than Welsh coal delivered by rail from nearby mines.

<U&S& coal is cheap,> despite high wages, because

of widespread mechanization of mines, wide coal seams, attactive rates
on ocean freight. Many of the coal seams in the nationalized British
mines are twisting, narrow and very deep. <Productivity
of U&S& miners> is twice that of the British. <Welsh
coal miners,> Communist-led, are up in arms at the suggestion that
the steel company bring in American coal. They threaten to strike.

The British Government will have to decide whether to let

U&S& coal in. The British coal industry is unprofitable, has large
coal stocks it can't sell.

EVERY library borrower, or at least those whose taste goes

beyond the five-cent fiction rentals, knows what it is to hear the librarian
say apologetically, "I'm sorry, but we don't have that
book. There wouldn't be much demand for it, I'm afraid".

Behind this reply, and its many variations, is the ever-present budget
problem all libraries must face, from the largest to the smallest.
What to buy out of the year's grist of nearly 15,000 book titles?
What to buy for adult and child readers, for lovers of fiction and
nonfiction, for a clientele whose wants are incredibly diversified, when
your budget is pitifully small? Most library budgets are hopelessly
inadequate. A startlingly high percentage do not exceed $500 annually,
which includes the librarian's salary, and not even the New
York Public has enough money to meet its needs- this in the world's
richest city. The plight of a small community library is proportionately
worse. Confronted with this situation, most libraries
either endure the severe limitations of their budgets and do what they
can with what they have, or else depend on the bounty of patrons and
local governments to supplement their annual funds. In some parts of
the country, however, a co-operative movement has begun to grow, under
the wing of state governments, whereby, with the financial help of the
state, libraries share their book resources on a county-wide or regional
basis. New York State has what is probably the most advanced
of these co-operative systems, so well developed that it has become
a model for others to follow. Because it is so large a state, with
marked contrasts in population density, the organization of the New
York co-operative offers a cross-section of how the plan works. At
one extreme are the systems of upper New York State, where libraries
in two or more counties combine to serve a large, sparsely populated
area. At the other are organizations like the newly formed Nassau Library
System, in a high-density area, with ample resources and a rapidly
growing territory to serve. Both these types, and those
in between, are in existence by reason of a legislative interest in libraries
that began at Albany as early as 1950, with the creation by the
legislature of county library systems financed by county governments
with matching funds from the state. It was a step in the right direction,
but it took an additional act passed in 1958 to establish fully
the thriving systems of today. Under this law annual grants are
given to systems in substantial amounts. An earlier difficulty was
overcome by making it clear that individual libraries in any area might
join or not, as they saw fit. Some library boards are wary of the
plan. A large, well-stocked library, surrounded in a county by smaller
ones, may feel that the demands on its resources are likely to be too
great. A small library may cherish its independence and established
ways, and resist joining in a cooperative movement that sometimes seems
radical to older members of the board. Within a system, however,
the autonomy of each member library is preserved. The local community
maintains responsibility for the financial support of its own library
program, facilities, and services, but wider resources and additional
services become available through membership in a system. All
services are given without cost to members. So obvious are these advantages
that nearly 95 per cent of the population of New York State
now has access to a system, and enthusiastic librarians foresee the day,
not too distant, when all the libraries in the state will belong to
a co-op. ##

TO SET up a co-operative library system, the law

requires a central book collection of 100,000 nonfiction volumes as
the nucleus, and the system is organized around it. The collection may
be in an existing library, or it may be built up in a central collection.
Each system develops differently, according to the area it serves,
but the universal goal is to pool the resources of a given area for
maximum efficiency. The basic state grant is thirty cents for each
person served, and there is a further book incentive grant that provides
an extra twenty cents up to fifty cents per capita, if a library spends
a certain number of dollars. In Nassau County, for example,
the heavily settled Long Island suburb of New York City, the
system is credited by the state with serving one million persons, a figure
that has doubled since 1950. This system, by virtue of its variety
and size, offers an inclusive view of the plan in operation.

The Nassau system recognizes that its major task it to broaden reference
service, what with the constant expansion of education and knowledge,
and the pressure of population growth in a metropolitan area. The
need is for reference works of a more specialized nature than individual
libraries, adequate to satisfy everyday needs, could afford. Nassau
is currently building a central collection of reference materials
in its Hempstead headquarters, which will reach its goal of 100,000
volumes by 1965. The major part of this collection is in the
central headquarters building, and the remainder is divided among five
libraries in the system designated as subject centers. Basic
reference
tools are the backbone of the collection, but there is also specialization
in science and technology, an indicated weakness in local libraries.
On microfilm, headquarters also has a file of the <New York
Times> from its founding in 1851 to the present day, as well as bound
volumes of important periodicals. The entire headquarters collection
is available to the patrons of all members on interlibrary loans.

Headquarters gets about 100 requests every day. It is connected

by teletype with the State Library in Albany, which will supply any
book to a system that the system itself cannot provide. The books are
carried around by truck in canvas bags from headquarters to the other
libraries. Each subject center library was chosen because
of its demonstrated strength in a particular area, which headquarters
could then build upon. East Meadow has philosophy, psychology, and
religion; Freeport houses social science, pure science, and language;
history, biography, and education are centered in Hempstead; Levittown
has applied science, business, and literature; while Hewlett-Woodmere
is the repository of art, music, and foreign languages.
The reference coordinator at headquarters also serves as a consultant,
and is available to work with the local librarian in helping to strengthen
local reference service. This kind of cooperation is not
wholly new, of course. Public libraries in Nassau County have been
lending books to each other by mail for a quarter-century, but the system
enables this process to operate on an organized and far more comprehensive
basis. Local libraries find, too, that the new plan saves
tax dollars because books can be bought through the system, and since
the system buys in bulk it is able to obtain larger discounts than would
be available to an individual library. The system passes on these
savings to its members. Further money is saved through economy in bookkeeping
and clerical detail as the result of central billing.
Books are not the only resource of the system. Schools and community
groups turn to the headquarters film library for documentary, art,
and experimental films to show at libraries that sponsor local programs,
and to organizations in member communities. The most recent film
catalogue, available at each library, lists 110 titles presently in the
collection, any of which may be borrowed without charge. This catalogue
lists separately films suitable for children, young adults, or adults,
although some classics cut across age groups, such as "Nanook
of the North", "The Emperor's Nightingale", and "The
Red Balloon". Workshops are conducted by the system's audio-visual
consultant for the staffs of member libraries, teaching them the effective
use of film as a library service. The system well understands
that one of its primary responsibilities is to bring children
and books together; consequently an experienced children's librarian
at headquarters conducts a guidance program designed to promote well-planned
library activities, cooperating with the children's librarians
in member libraries by means of individual conferences, workshops,
and frequent visits. Headquarters has also set up a central juvenile
book-review and book-selection center, to provide better methods of
purchasing and selection. Sample copies of new books are on display
at headquarters, where librarians may evaluate them by themselves or in
workshop groups. Story hours, pre-school programs, activities with
community agencies, and lists of recommended reading are all in the province
of the children's consultant. Headquarters of the Nassau
system is an increasingly busy place these days, threatening to expand
beyond its boundaries. In addition to the interlibrary loan service
and the children's program, headquarters has a public relations
director who seeks to get wider grassroots support for quality library
service in the county; it prepares cooperative displays (posters,
booklists, brochures, and other promotional material) for use in member
libraries; it maintains a central exhibit collection to share displays
already created and used; and it publishes <Sum and Substance>,
a monthly newsletter, which reports the system's activities to
the staffs and trustees of member libraries. The system itself is governed
by a board of trustees, geographically representing its membership.

In Nassau, as in other systems, the long-range objective

is to bring the maximum service of libraries to bear on the schools, and
on adult education in general. Librarians, a patient breed of men
and women who have borne much with dedication, can begin to see results
today. Library use is multiplying daily, and the bulk of the newcomers
are those maligned Americans, the teen-agers. To them especially
the librarians, with the help of co-ops, hope they will never have to
say, "I'm sorry, we don't have that book".

TODAY, more than ever before, the survival of our free society
depends upon the citizen who is both informed and concerned. The
great advances made in recent years in Communist strength and in our
own capacity to destroy require an educated citizenry in the Western
world. The need for lifetime reading is apparent. Education must not
be limited to our youth but must be a continuing process through our
entire lives, for it is only through knowledge that we, as a nation,
can cope with the dangers that threaten our society. The desire
and ability to read are important aspects of our cultural life. We
cannot consider ourselves educated if we do not read; if we are not
discriminating in our reading; if we do not know how to use what we
do read. We must not permit our society to become a slave to the scientific
age, as might well happen without the cultural and spiritual restraint
that comes from the development of the human mind through wisdom
absorbed from the written word. A fundamental source of knowledge
in the world today is the book found in our libraries. Although
progress has been made in America's system of libraries it still
falls short of what is required if we are to maintain the standards that
are needed for an informed America. The problem grows in intensity
each year as man's knowledge, and his capacity to translate such knowledge
to the written word, continue to expand. The inadequacy of our
library system will become critical unless we act vigorously to correct
this condition. There are, for example, approximately 25,000,000
people in this country with no public library service and about 50,000,000
with inadequate service. In college libraries, 57 per cent of the
total number of books are owned by 124 of 1,509 institutions surveyed
last year by the U&S& Office of Education. And over 66 per
cent of the elementary schools with 150 or more pupils do not have any
library at all. ##

IN every aspect of service- to the public,

to children in schools, to colleges and universities- the library
of today is failing to render vitally needed services. Only public
understanding and support can provide that service. This is
one of the main reasons for National Library Week, April 16-22, and
for its theme: "For a richer, fuller life, read"!

#ASSEMBLY SESSION BROUGHT MUCH GOOD#

The General Assembly, which

adjourns today, has performed in an atmosphere of crisis and struggle
from the day it convened. It was faced immediately with a showdown
on the schools, an issue which was met squarely in conjunction with the
governor with a decision not to risk abandoning public education.

There followed the historic appropriations and budget fight, in

which the General Assembly decided to tackle executive powers. The
final decision went to the executive but a way has been opened for strengthening
budgeting procedures and to provide legislators information
they need. Long-range planning of programs and ways to finance
them have become musts if the state in the next few years is to avoid
crisis-to-crisis government. This session, for instance, may have
insured
a financial crisis two years from now. In all the turmoil,
some good legislation was passed. Some other good bills were lost
in the shuffle and await future action. Certainly all can applaud passage
of an auto title law, the school bills, the increase in teacher
pensions, the ban on drag racing, acceptance by the state of responsibility
for maintenance of state roads in municipalities at the same rate
as outside city limits, repeal of the college age limit law and the
road maintenance bond issue. No action has been taken, however,
on such major problems as ending the fee system, penal reform, modification
of the county unit system and in outright banning of fireworks
sales. Only a token start was made in attacking the tax reappraisal
question and its companion issue of attracting industry to the state.

The legislature expended most of its time on the schools and appropriations
questions. Fortunately it spared us from the usual spate
of silly resolutions which in the past have made Georgia look like
anything but "the empire state of the South". We congratulate
the entire membership on its record of good legislation. In the
interim between now and next year, we trust the House and Senate will
put their minds to studying Georgia's very real economic, fiscal
and social problems and come up with answers without all the political
heroics. @

#LEAGUE REGULARLY STANDS ON THE SIDE OF RIGHT#

The
League of Women Voters, 40 now and admitting it proudly, is inviting
financial contributions in the windup of its fund drive. It's a
good use of money. These women whose organization grew out of
the old suffrage movement are dedicated to Thomas Jefferson's dictum
that one must cherish the people's spirit but "Keep alive their
attention". "If once they become inattentive to the public
affairs", Jefferson said, "you and I, and Congress and assemblies,
judges and governors, shall all become wolves". Newspapermen
and politicians especially are aware of the penetrating attention
and expert analysis the league gives to public affairs. The league
workers search out the pros and cons of the most complex issues and
make them available to the public. The harder the choice, the more willing
the league is to wade in. And the league takes a stand, with great
regularity, on the side of right. @

#LOOK TO COOSA VALLEY FOR

INDUSTRIAL PROGRESS#

Cities and counties interested in industrial

development would do well in the months ahead to keep their eyes peeled
toward the 13 northwest
Georgia counties that are members of the Coosa
Valley Area Planning and Development Commission. Coupling
its own budget of $83,750 with a $30,000 state grant authorized by
Gov& Vandiver, the group expects to sign a contract in March with
Georgia Tech&. Then a full-time planning office will be established
in Rome to work with a five-member Georgia Tech research staff
for development of an area planning and industrial development program.

The undertaking has abundant promise. It recognizes the fact

that what helps one county helps its neighbors and that by banding
together in an area-wide effort better results can be accomplished than
through the go-it-alone approach. @

#RUSK IDEA STRENGTHENS UNITED

STATES DEFENSE#

The Rusk belief in balanced defense, replacing

the
Dulles theory of massive retaliation, removes a grave danger that
has existed. The danger lay not in believing that our own ~A-bombs
would deter Russia's use of hers; that theory was and is
sound. The danger lay in the American delusion that nuclear deterrence
was enough. By limiting American strength too much to nuclear
strength, this country limited its ability to fight any kind of war
besides a nuclear war. This strategy heightened the possibility that
we would have a nuclear war. It also weakened our diplomatic
stance, because Russia could easily guess we did not desire a nuclear
war except in the ultimate extremity. This left the Soviets
plenty of leeway to start low-grade brushfire aggressions with considerable
impunity. By maintaining the nuclear deterrent, but gearing
American military forces to fight conventional wars too, Secretary
of State Rusk junks bluff and nuclear brinkmanship and builds more
muscle and greater safety into our military position. @

#DEKALB BUDGET
SHOWS COUNTY IS ON BEAM#

DeKalb's budget for 1961 is a record

one and carries with it the promise of no tax increase to make it balance.

It includes a raise in the county minimum wage, creation

of several new jobs at the executive level, financing of beefed-up
industrial development efforts, and increased expenditures for essential
services such as health and welfare, fire protection, sanitation and
road maintenance. That such expansion can be obtained without
a raise in taxes is due to growth of the tax digest and sound fiscal
planning on the part of the board of commissioners, headed by Chairman
Charles O& Emmerich who is demonstrating that the public trust
he was given was well placed, and other county officials. @

#SOMEWHERE,
SOMEBODY IS BOUND TO LOVE US#

G& Mennen Williams is learning

the difficulties of diplomacy rapidly. Touring Africa, the new
U&S& assistant secretary of state observed "Africa should be
for the Africans" and the British promptly denounced him. Then he
arrived in Zanzibar and found Africans carrying signs saying "American
imperialists, go home". Chin up, Soapy. @

#POWER COMPANY
BACKS CONFIDENCE WITH DOLLARS#

Confidence in the state's economic

future is reflected in the Georgia Power Company's record construction
budget for this year. The firm does a large amount of
research and its forecasts have meaning. It is good to know that Georgia
will continue to have sufficient electrical power not only to meet
the demands of normal growth but to encourage a more rapid rate of
industrialization.

Georgia's mental health program received a badly needed boost

from the General Assembly in the form of a $1,750,000 budget increase
for the Milledgeville State Hospital. Actually it amounts
to $1,250,000 above what the institution already is receiving, considering
the additional half-million dollars Gov& Vandiver allocated
last year from the state surplus. Either way it sounds like
a sizable hunk of money and is. But exactly how far it will go toward
improving conditions is another question because there is so much that
needs doing. The practice of charging employes for meals whether
they eat at the hospital or not should be abolished. The work week
of attendants who are on duty 65 hours and more per week should be
reduced. More attendants, nurses and doctors should be hired.
Patients deserve more attention than they are getting. Even with
the increase in funds for the next fiscal year, Georgia will be spending
only around $3.15 per day per patient. The national average is
more than $4 and that figure is considered by experts in the mental
health field to be too low. Kansas, regarded as tops in the nation in
its treatment of the mentally ill, spends $9 per day per patient.
Georgia has made some reforms, true. The intensive treatment program
is working well. But in so many other areas we still are dragging.

Considering what is being done compared to what needs to be

done, it behooves the hospital management to do some mighty careful planning
toward making the best possible use of the increase granted. The
boost is helpful but inadequate.- @

#THE END OF TRUJILLO#

Assassination, even of a tyrant, is repulsive

to men of good conscience. Rafael Trujillo, the often-blood thirsty
dictator of the Dominican Republic for 31 years, perhaps deserved
his fate in an even-handed appraisal of history. But whether the murder
of El Benefactor in Ciudad Trujillo means freedom for the people
of the Caribbean fiefdom is a question that cannot now be answered.

Trujillo knew a great deal about assassination. The responsibility

for scores of deaths, including the abduction and murder of Jesus
Maria Galindez, a professor at Columbia University in New York,
has been laid at his door. He had been involved in countless schemes
to do away with democratic leaders in neighboring countries such
as President Romulo Betancourt of Venezuela. It was a sort of poetic
justice that at the time of his own demise a new plot to overthrow
the Venezuelan government, reportedly involving the use of Dominican
arms by former Venezuelan Dictator Marcos Perez Jimenez, has
been uncovered and quashed. The recent history of the Dominican
Republic is an almost classical study of the way in which even a professedly
benevolent dictatorship tends to become oppressive. Unquestionably
Trujillo did some good things for his country: he improved
public facilities such as roads and sanitation, attracted industry and
investment and raised the standard of living notably. But the price
was the silence of the grave for all criticism or opposition.
El Benefactor's vanity grew with his personal wealth. The jails were
filled to overflowing with political prisoners who had incurred his
displeasure. He maintained amply financed lobbies in the United States
and elsewhere which sycophantically chanted his praise, and his
influence extended even to Congress. Until the last year or so
the profession of friendship with the United States had been an article
of faith with Trujillo, and altogether too often this profession
was accepted here as evidence of his good character. Tardily the Government
here
came to understand how this country's own reputation was
tarnished by the association with repression. Last year, after Trujillo
had been cited for numerous aggressions in the Caribbean, the
United States and many other members of the Organization of American
States broke diplomatic relations with him. Thereupon followed
a demonstration that tyranny knows no ideological confines. Trujillo's
dictatorship had been along conservative, right-wing lines. But
after the censure he and his propaganda started mouthing Communist
slogans. There was considerable evidence of a tacit rapprochement with
Castro in Cuba, previously a <bete noire> to Trujillo- thus
illustrating the way in which totalitarianism of the right and left coalesces.

What comes after Trujillo is now the puzzle. The

Dominican people have known no democratic institutions and precious little
freedom for a generation, and all alternative leadership has been
suppressed. Perhaps the army will be able to maintain stability, but
the vacuum of free institutions creates a great danger. The Dominican
Republic could turn toward Communist-type authoritarianism as easily
as toward Western freedom. Such a twist would be a tragedy for
the Dominican people, who deserve to breathe without fear. For that
reason any democratic reform and effort to bring genuine representative
government to the Dominican Republic will need the greatest sympathy
and help.

#START ON RAPID TRANSIT#

High-speed buses on the George

Washington Memorial Parkway, operating between downtown Washington
and Cabin John, Glen Echo and Brookmont, would constitute
an
alluring sample of what the new National Capital Transportation Agency
can do for this city. In presenting plans for such express buses
before the Montgomery County Council, the administrator of the ~NCTA,
C& Darwin Stolzenbach, was frankly seeking support for
the projects his agency will soon be launching. Such support should
not be difficult to come by if all the plans to be presented by the ~NCTA
are as attractive as this outline of express buses coming into
the downtown area. Because the buses would not stop on the
parkway, land for bus stations and for parking areas nearby will be needed.
The ~NCTA is well advised to seek funds for this purpose
from the present session of Congress.

#MUST BERLIN REMAIN DIVIDED?#

The inference has been too

widely
accepted that because the Communists have succeeded in building barricades
across Berlin the free world must acquiesce in dismemberment of
that living city. So far as the record is concerned, the Western
powers have not acquiesced and should not do so. Though Walter
Ulbricht, by grace of Soviet tanks, may be head man in East
Germany, that does not give him any right to usurp the government of
East Berlin or to absorb that semi-city into the Soviet zone.

The wartime protocol of September 12, 1944, designated a special "Greater

Berlin" area, comprising the entire city, to be under joint
occupation. It was not a part of any one of the three (later four)
zones for occupation by Soviet, American, British, and French troops
respectively. After the Berlin blockade and airlift, the Council
of Foreign Ministers in 1949 declared a purpose "to mitigate the
effects of the present administrative division of Germany and of Berlin".

For some time the Communists honored the distinction

between the Soviet zone of Germany and the Soviet sector of Berlin
by promulgating separately the laws for the two areas. Then they moved
offices of the East German puppet government into East Berlin
and began illegally to treat it as the capital of East Germany.

That this and the closing of the East Berlin-West Berlin border
have not
been accepted by the Western governments appears in notes which
Britain,
France, and the United States sent to Moscow after the latter's
gratuitous protest over a visit of Chancellor Adenauer and other
West German officials to West Berlin. The Chancellor had as
much business there as Ulbricht had in East Berlin- and was certainly
less provocative than the juvenile sound-truck taunts of Gerhard
Eisler. The British and other replies to that Moscow note
pointed out efforts of the Communist authorities "to integrate East
Berlin into East Germany by isolating it from the outside and attempting
to make it the capital of East Germany". They insisted on
the "fundamental fact" that "the whole of Berlin has a quadripartite
status". This is far from acknowledging or recognizing
those efforts as an accomplished fact. There remains, of course, the
question of what the West can do beyond diplomatic protest to prevent
the illegal efforts from becoming accomplished facts. One ground
of action certainly exists when fusillades of stray shots go over
into West Berlin as Communist "vopos" try to gun down fleeing
unarmed residents. Another remained when an American Army car was
recovered but with a broken glass. The glass may seem trivial but Communist
official hooliganism feeds on such incidents unless they are redressed.

Remembering the step-by-step fate of Danzig and the

West German misgivings about "salami" tactics, it is to be hoped
that
the dispatch of General Clay to West Berlin as President Kennedy's
representative will mark a stiffening of response not only to future
indignities and aggressions but also to some that have passed.

#PRAIRIE
NATIONAL PARK#

Thousands of buffalo ("bison" they will

never be to the man on the street) grazing like a mobile brown throw-rug
upon the rolling, dusty-green grassland. A horizon even and seamless,
binding the vast sun-bleached dome of sky to earth. That
picture of the American prairie is as indelibly fixed in the memory of
those who have studied the conquest of the American continent as any
later cinema image of the West made in live-oak canyons near Hollywood.
For it was the millions of buffalo and prairie chicken and the
endless seas of grass that symbolized for a whole generation of Americans
the abundant supply that was to take many of them westward when the
Ohio and Mississippi valleys began to fill. The National
Park Service now proposes to preserve an area in Pottawatomie County,
northeast Kansas, as a "Prairie National Park". There the
buffalo would roam, to be seen as a tapestry, not as moth-eaten zoo
specimens. Wooded stream valleys in the folds of earth would be saved.
Grasslands would extend, unfenced, unplowed, unbroken by silo or barn-
as the first settlers saw them. The Park Service makes
an impressive ecological and statistical case for creating this new
park.
American history should clinch the case when Congress is asked to
approve.

#WHISKY ON THE AIR#

A Philadelphia distiller is currently

breaching the customary prohibition against hard-liquor advertising
on ~TV and radio. Starting with small stations not members of
the National Association of Broadcasters, the firm apparently is seeking
to break down the anti-liquor barriers in major-market stations.

Probably the best answer to this kind of entering wedge is congressional

action requiring the Federal Communications Commission
to ban such advertising through its licensing power. The National
Association of Broadcasters code specifically bars hard-liquor
commercials. Past polls of public opinion show popular favor for this
policy. Even the Distilled Spirits Institute has long had a specific
prohibition. Why, then, with these voluntary barricades and
some state laws barring liquor ads, is it necessary to seek congressional
action? Simply because the subverting action of firms that are
not members of the Distilled Spirits Institute and of radio and ~TV
stations that are not members of the ~NAB tends to spread.

Soon some members of the two industry groups doubtless will want
to amend their codes on grounds that otherwise they will suffer unfairly
from the efforts of non-code competitors. Although the
false glamour surrounding bourbon or other whisky commercials is possibly
no more fatuous than the pseudo-sophistication with which ~TV
soft-drinks are downed or toothpaste applied, there is a sad difference
between enticing a viewer into sipping Oopsie-Cola and gulling him
into downing bourbon. A law is needed.

#NEW YORK: DEMOCRATS'

CHOICE#

Registered Democrats in New York City this year have

the opportunity to elect their party's candidates for Mayor and
other municipal posts and the men who will run their party organization.

In the central contest, that for Mayor, they may have found
some pertinent points in what each faction has said about the other.

Mayor Robert F& Wagner must, as his opponents demand, assume

responsibility for his performance in office. While all citizens
share in blame for lax municipal ethics the Wagner regime has seen serious
problems in the schools, law enforcement and fiscal policies. The
Mayor is finding it awkward to campaign against his own record.

State Controller Arthur Levitt, on the other hand, cannot effectively

deny that he has chosen to be the candidate of those party leaders
who as a rule have shown livelier interest in political power than
in the city's welfare. They, too, have links with the city's
ills. Both men are known to be honest and public-spirited. Mayor
Wagner's shortcomings have perhaps been more mercilessly exposed
than those of Mr& Levitt who left an impression of quiet competence
in his more protected state post. As Mayor, Mr& Levitt
might turn out to be more independent than some of his leading supporters
would like. His election, on the other hand, would unquestionably
strengthen the "regulars". Mr& Wagner might or might
not be a "new" Mayor in this third term, now that he is free of
the pressure of those party leaders whom he calls "bosses". These
are, of course, the same people whose support he has only now rejected
to seek the independent vote. But his reelection would strengthen
the liberal Democrats and the labor unions who back him.

If this choice is less exciting than New York Democrats may wish,
it nevertheless must be made. The vote still gives citizens a voice
in the operation of their government and their party.

#LITTLE WAR, BIG TEST#

Both Mr& ~K's have so far continued

to speak softly and carry big sticks over Laos. President
Kennedy, already two quiet demands down, still refused Thursday to
be drawn into delivering a public ultimatum to Moscow. But at the same
time he moved his helicopter-borne marines to within an hour of the
fighting. And Secretary Rusk, en route to Bangkok, doubtless is
trying to make emergency arrangements for the possible entry of Australian
or Thai ~SEATO forces. For Mr& Kennedy, speaking
softly and carrying a sizable stick is making the best of a bad
situation. The new President is in no position to start out his dealings
with Moscow by issuing callable bluffs. He must show at the outset
that he means exactly what he says. In this case he has put
the alternatives clearly to Mr& Khrushchev for the third time. At
his press conference Mr& Kennedy said, "All we want in Laos
is peace not war **h a truly neutral government not a cold war pawn".
At the scene he has just as clearly shown his military strength in
unprovocative but ready position. Since Laos is of no more purely
military value to Moscow itself than it is to Washington, this
approach might be expected to head off Mr& Khrushchev for the moment.
But because of the peculiar nature of the military situation in
Laos, the Soviet leader must be tempted to let things ride- a course
that would appear to cost him little on the spot, but would bog Washington
in a tactical mess. As wars go, Laos is an extremely
little one. Casualties have been running about a dozen men a day. The
hard core of the pro-Communist rebel force numbers only some 2,000
tough Viet Minh guerrilla fighters. But for the United States and
its ~SEATO allies to attempt to shore up a less tough, less combat-tested
government army in monsoon-shrouded, road-shy, guerrilla-th'-wisp
terrain is a risk not savored by Pentagon planners.
But if anything can bring home to Mr& Khrushchev the idea that he
will not really get much enjoyment from watching this
Braddock-against-the-Indians
contest, it will probably be the fact that ~SEATO
forces are ready to attempt it- plus the fact that Moscow has something
to lose from closing off disarmament and other bigger negotiations
with Washington. Fortunately both the Republicans and America's
chief Western allies now are joined behind the neutral Laos
aim of the President. Actually it would be more accurate to say that
the leader of the alliance now has swung fully behind the British
policy of seeking to achieve a neutral Laos via the international bargaining
table. It is ironic that Washington is having to struggle
so for a concept that for six years it bypassed as unreasonable.
The State Department tacitly rejected the neutral Laos idea after
the Geneva conference of 1954, and last year Washington backed the
rightist coup that ousted neutral Premier Souvanna Phouma. But
since last fall the United States has been moving toward a pro-neutralist
position and now is ready to back the British plan for a cease-fire
patrolled by outside observers and followed by a conference of
interested powers. The road to a guaranteed-neutral, coup-proof
Laos is today almost as difficult as warfare on that nation's terrain.
But for the safety of Southeast Asia, and for the sake of the
Laotian people- who would not be well-ruled by either militant minority
now engaged in the fighting- this last big effort to seal that
country from the cold war had to be made. The world awaits Mr& Khrushchev's
choice of alternatives.

#A VOTE FOR EDUCATIONAL ~TV#

The Senate's overwhelming (64-13) vote to support locally controlled

educational ~TV efforts should be emulated in the lower
house. Twice previously the Senate has approved measures backing
~ETV and the House has let them die. But this year prospects
may be better. The House communications subcommittee is expected to
report out a good bill calling for the states to match federal funds.

This year's Senate measure would provide each state and the
District of Columbia with $1,000,000 to be used in support of private,
state, or municipal ~ETV efforts. The funds would be used
for equipment, not for land, buildings, or operation. The relatively
few communities that have educational stations have found them
of considerable value. But, lacking money from commercial sponsors, the
stations have had
difficulties meeting expenses or improving their service.
Other communities- the ones to be aided most by the Senate bill-
have had difficulty starting such stations because of the high initial
cost of equipment.

#A GOOD MAN DEPARTS GOODBY, MR& SAM#

Sam Rayburn was a good man,

a good American, and, third, a good Democrat. He was all
of these rolled into one sturdy figure; Mr& Speaker, Mr& Sam,
and Mr& Democrat, at one and the same time. The House was
his habitat and there he flourished, first as a young representative,
then as a forceful committee chairman, and finally in the post for which
he seemed intended from birth, Speaker of the House, and second
most powerful man in Washington. Mr& Rayburn was not an easy
man to classify or to label. He was no flaming liberal, yet the New
Deal, the Fair Deal and the New Frontier needed him. He was
not a rear-looking conservative, yet partisans of that persuasion will
miss him as much as any. Two of the vital qualities demanded
of a politician by other politicians are that he always keep a confidence
and that he keep his word. Sam Rayburn took unnumbered secrets with
him to the grave, for he was never loquacious, and his word, once
given, was not subject to retraction. It might be added that as he kept
his word so he expected that others keep theirs. The demonstration
of his power was never flamboyant or theatrical. His leadership
was not for audiences. A growl, a nod, was usually enough. When it
was not, one of the great dramas of Washington would be presented.
He would rise in the well of the House, his chin upon his chest, his
hands gripping the side of a desk, and the political and legislative
chatter would subside into silence. He spoke briefly, sensibly,
to the point and without oratorical flourishes He made good, plain
American common sense and the House usually recognized it and acted
upon it. These public efforts were rare because Mr& Rayburn
normally did his counseling, persuading and educating long before
an issue reached its test on the House floor. He expected Democrats
to do their duty when it had been patiently pointed out to them. With
his long service he had a long memory, an excellent thing in a political
leader. {He was, of course, in the House for a very long
time. There are only two men remaining in Congress who, with Rayburn,
voted for the declaration of war against Germany in 1917. To
almost two generations of Americans it must have seemed as though the
existence of Mr& Sam coincided with that of the House}.
And it was the House he loved. To be presiding officer of it was the
end of his desire and ambition. The Senate to him was not the "upper
body" and he corrected those who said he served "under" the
president. He served "with" him. Sound the roll of those
with whom he served and who preceded him in death. Woodrow Wilson,
with whom he began his years in Washington, Warren G& Harding,
Calvin Coolidge, ~FDR, with whom he managed a social revolution.
And those still with us, Herbert C& Hoover, Harry S& Truman,
Dwight D& Eisenhower and John F& Kennedy. He was
a fighter for those of his own party. Mr& Truman has only to recall
the "hopeless" campaign of 1948 to remember what a loyal partisan
he was and the first experience of Mr& Kennedy with Congress would
have been sadder than it was had not Mr& Sam been there. As it
was, his absence because of his final illness was a blow to the administration.

With Republican presidents, he fought fair. He was

his own man, not an automatic obstructionist. He kept his attacks
on Republicanism for partisan campaigns, but that is part of the game
he
was born to play. Under any name- Mr& Speaker, Mr&
Democrat, Mr& Sam- he was a good man. #~UN OFF THE CONGO TRACK#

Thirteen Italian airmen who went to the Congo to serve the

cause of peace under the United Nations banner have instead met violent
death at the hands of Congolese troops supposedly their friends.

In 18 months, no more grisly incident has been reported from that

jungle. Simply out of bloodlust, their murderers dismembered the
bodies and tossed the remains into the river. The excuse was offered
for them that they had mistaken the Italians for Belgian mercenaries.
In other words, atrocities by savages wearing the uniform of the central
government might be condoned, had the victims been serving the cause
of dissident Katanga. Does this suggest that the Congo
is fit for nationhood or that ~UN is making any progress whatever
toward its goal of so making it? To the contrary, through the past
six
weeks violence has been piled upon violence. Mass rapes, troop mutinies,
uncontrolled looting and pillage and reckless military adventures,
given no sanction by any political authority, have become almost
daily occurrences. Yet this basic condition of outlawry and anarchy is
not the work of Katanga. It happens in the territory of the Leopoldville
government, which is itself a fiction, demonstrably incapable
of governing, and commanding only such limited credit abroad as ~UN
support gives it. The main question raised by the incident is
how much longer will ~UN bury its head in the sand on the Congo
problem instead of facing the bitter fact that it has no solution in
present terms? The probable answer is that it will do so just as long
as Russia can exercise a veto in favor of chaos and until young African
nations wake up to the truth that out of false pride they are visiting
ruin on Central Africa. Right now, they are pushing
a resolution which would have ~UN use its forces to invade and subjugate
Katanga. That notion is fantastically wrong-headed from several
points of view. The ~UN army is too weak, too demoralized for
the task. Further, it has its work cut out stopping anarchy where it
is now garrisoned. Last, it makes no sense to deliver Katanga, the one
reasonably solid territory, into the existing chaos. The Congo
should have been mandated, because it was not ready for independence.
The idea was not even suggested because political expediency prevailed
over wisdom. It is perhaps too late now to talk of mandate because
it is inconsistent with what is termed political realism. But if
any realism and feeling for truth remain in the General Assembly, it
is time for men of courage to measure the magnitude of the failure and
urge some new approach. Otherwise, ~UN will march blindly on to
certain defeat.
#FEATHERBED REVERSAL#

A recent editorial discussing

a labor-management agreement reached between the Southern Pacific
Co& and the Order of Railroad Telegraphers has been criticized
on the grounds that it was not based on complete information.
The editorial was based on a news association dispatch which said that
the telegraphers had secured an agreement whereby they were guaranteed
40 hours' pay per week whether they worked or not and that a reduction
in their number was limited to 2 per cent per year. Our comment
was that this was "featherbedding" in its ultimate form and that
sympathy for the railroad was misplaced since it had entered into such
an agreement. The statement was also made that undoubtedly the railroad
had received some compensating benefit from the telegraphers, but
that it was difficult to imagine what could balance a job for life.

Additional information supplied to us discloses that the railroad

gained a stabilized supply of telegraphers of which it was in need.
Also, normal personal attrition would make the job reduction provision
more or less academic. The situation with regard to the Southern
Pacific was therefore a special one and not necessarily applicable
to other situations in other industries. The solution reached in
the agreement was more acceptable to the railroad than that originally
included in a series of union demands.

#MEDITATIONS FROM A FALLOUT SHELTER#

Time was when the house of delegates

of the American Bar association leaned to the common sense
side. But the internationalists have taken over the governing body of
the bar, and when the lads met in St& Louis, it was not to grumble
about the humidity but to vote unanimously that the United Nations
was scarcely less than wonderful, despite an imperfection here and
there. It was, the brief writers decided, "man's best hope
for a peaceful and law abiding world". Peace, it's wonderful, and
"world law", it's wonderful, too, and shouldn't we get an international
covenant extending it into space, before the Russians put
some claim jumper on the moon? Meanwhile, in Moscow, Khrushchev
was adding his bit to the march of world law by promising to build
a bomb with a wallop equal to 100 million tons of ~TNT, to knock
sense into the heads of those backward oafs who can't see the justice
of surrendering West Berlin to communism. A nuclear pacifier
of these dimensions- roughly some six and a half times bigger
than anything the United States has triggered experimentally- would
certainly produce a bigger bang, and, just for kicks, Khrushchev might
use it to propel the seminar of the house of delegates from St&
Louis to the moon, where there wouldn't even be any beer to drink.

While he was at it, the philosopher of the Kremlin contributed

an additional assist to the rule of reason by bellowing at those in
the west who can't appreciate coexistence thru suicide. "Fools",
he bayed, "what do you think you are doing"? The
only response we can think of is the humble one that at least we aren't
playing the marimba with our shoes in the United Nations, but
perhaps the heavy domes in the house of delegates can improve on this
feeble effort. Another evidence of the spreading rule of reason
was provided from Mexico City with the daily hijacking of an American
plane by a demented Algerian with a gun. The craft made the familiar
unwelcome flight to Havana, where, for some unknown reason, Castro
rushed to the airport to express mortification to the Colombian
foreign minister, a passenger, who is not an admirer of old Ten O'Clock
Shadow. The plane was sent back to the United States, for
a change, but Castro kept the crazy gunman, who will prove a suitable
recruit to the revolution. Less respect for the legal
conventions was displayed by Castro's right hand man, Che Guevara,
who edified the Inter-American Economic and Social council meeting
in Montevideo by reading two secret American documents purloined
from the United States embassy at Caracas, Venezuela. The contents
were highly embarrassing to American spokesmen, who were on hand
to promise Latin Americans a 20 billion dollar foreign aid millennium.

Perhaps the moralities of world law are not advanced by stealing

American diplomatic papers and planes, but the Kennedy administration
can always file a demurrer to the effect that, but for its own
incompetence in protecting American interests, these things would
not happen. The same can be said about the half-hearted Cuban invasion
mounted by the administration last April, which, we trust, is not
symptomatic of the methods to be invoked in holding off the felonious
Khrushchev. Pass the iron rations, please, and light another
candle, for it's getting dark down here and we're minded to read
a bit of world law just to pass the time away.

#THE CUSTOMER LOSES

AGAIN#

The board of suspension of the Interstate Commerce commission

has ordered a group of railroads not to reduce their freight rates
on grain, as they had planned to do this month. The request for
lower rates originated with the Southern railway, which has spent
a good deal of time and money developing a 100-ton hopper car with which
it says it can move grain at about half what it costs in the conventional,
smaller car. By reducing rates as much as 60 per cent, it and
its
associated railroads hope to win back some of the business they have
lost to truckers and barge lines. The board's action shows
what free enterprise is up against in our complex maze of regulatory laws.

#A SHOCK WAVE FROM AFRICA#

WORD OF Dag Hammarskjold's death

in an African plane crash has sent a shockwave around the globe.
As head of the United Nations he was the symbol of world peace, and
his tragic end came at a moment when peace hangs precariously. It was
on the eve of a momentous U&N& session to come to grips with cold
war issues. His firm hand will be desperately missed. Mr&
Hammarskjold was in Africa on a mission of peace. He had sought
talks with Moise Tshombe, the secessionist president of Congo's Katanga
province where recent fighting had been bloody. He earnestly
urged a cease-fire. The story of the fatal crash is not fully
known. The U&N&-chartered plane which was flying from the conference
city of Ndola in Northern Rhodesia had been riddled with machinegun
bullets last weekend and was newly repaired. Whether this, or
overt action, was the cause of the crash must be promptly determined.

The death of Mr& Hammarskjold removes the United Nations'

most controversial leader. He was controversial because he was uncompromising
for peace and freedom with justice. He courageously defended
the rights of small nations, and he stood his ground against the
savage attacks of the Communist bloc. The Congo, in whose cause
he died, was the scene of one of his greatest triumphs. His policies
had resolved the conflicts that threatened to ignite the cold war
and workable solutions were beginning to take shape. When the recent
Katangan outbreaks imperiled these solutions Mr& Hammarskjold, despite
the danger, flew to exert a calming influence. He gave his life
for his beliefs. The U&N& session scheduled for today
will meet under the cloud of his passing. It is a crucial session with
the world on the edge of momentous developments. If the manner
of his passing moves the nations to act in the spirit of his dedication
the sore issues that plague the world can yet be resolved with reason
and justice. That is the hope of mankind.

#MONUMENT TO TOGETHERNESS#

REACHING AGREEMENT on projects of value to the whole community

has long been one of Greater Miami's hardest tasks. Too
many have bogged down in bickering. Even when public bodies arrived at
a consensus, at least one dissenting vote has been usual. So
we note approvingly a fresh sample of unanimity. All nine members of
the Inter-American Center Authority voted for Goodbody + Company's
proposal to finance the long-awaited trade and cultural center.

The widely known financial firm has 60 days to spell out the terms
of its contract. If the indenture is accepted, the authority will
proceed to validate a bond issue repayable from revenue. Then Goodbody
will hand over a minimum of $15.5 million for developing the spacious
Graves Tract to house the center. The next step awaits
approval today by the Metro commissioners as the members of the Dade
County Port Authority. They allotted $500,000 three years ago to
support Interama until its own financing could be arranged. Less than
half the sum has been spent, since the Interama board pinched pennies
during that period of painstaking negotiations. The balance is being
budgeted for the coming year. Unanimity on Interama is not
surprising. It is one of the rare public ventures here on which nearly
everyone is agreed. The City of Miami recently yielded a prior claim
of $8.5 million on the Graves Tract to clear the way for the project.
County officials have cooperated consistently. So have the people's
elected spokesmen at the state and federal levels. Interama,
as it rises, will be a living monument to Greater Miami's
ability
to get together on worthwhile enterprises.

#A SHORT REPORT AND

A GOOD ONE#

PROGRESS, or lack of it, toward civil rights in

the 50 states is reported in an impressive 689-page compilation issued
last week by the United States Commission on Civil Rights.

Much happened in this field during the past 12 months. Each state
advisory committee documented its own activity. Some accounts are quite
lengthy but Florida's is the shortest of all, requiring only four
paragraphs. "The established pattern of relative calm in the
field of race relations has continued in all areas", reported this
group headed by Harold Colee of Jacksonville and including two South
Floridians, William D& Singer and John B& Turner of Miami.

"No complaints or charges have been filed during the past

year, either verbally or written, from any individual or group.

"The committee continues to feel that Florida has progressed

in a sound and equitable program at both the state and local levels in
its efforts to review and assess transition problems as they arise from
time to time in the entire spectrum of civil rights". Problems
have arisen in this sensitive field but have been handled in most
cases with understanding and restraint. The progress reported by the
advisory committee is real. While some think we move too fast and others
too slowly, Florida's record is a good one and stands out among
the 50.

#WEST GERMANY REMAINS WESTERN#

WEST GERMANY will

face the crucial tests that lie ahead, on Berlin and unification, with
a coalition government. This is the key fact emerging from Sunday's
national election. Chancellor Adenauer's Christian Democratic
Party slipped only a little in the voting but it was enough
to lose the absolute Bundestag majority it has enjoyed since 1957. In
order to form a new government it must deal with one of the two rival
parties which gained strength. Inevitably this means some compromise.

The aging chancellor in all likelihood will be retired. Both

Willy Brandt's Social Democrats, who gained 22 seats in the
new parliament, and the Free Democrats, who picked up 23, will insist
on that before they enter the government. Moon-faced Ludwig
Erhart, the economic expert, probably will ascend to the leadership
long denied him. If he becomes chancellor, Dr& Erhart would
make few changes. The wizard who fashioned West Germany's astonishing
industrial rebirth is the soul of free enterprise. He is dedicated
to building the nation's strength and, as are all West Germans,
to a free Berlin and to reunion with captive East Germany.

What is in doubt as the free Germans and their allies consider the
voting trends is the nature of the coalition that will result.
If the party of Adenauer and Erhart, with 45 per cent of the vote,
approaches the party of Willy Brandt, which won 36 per cent, the result
would be a stiffening of the old resolve. West Berlin's Mayor
Brandt vigorously demanded a firmer stand on the dismemberment of his
city and won votes by it. The Free Democrats (12 per cent
of the vote) believe a nuclear war can be avoided by negotiating with
the Soviet Union, and more dealings with the Communist bloc.

The question left by the election is whether West Germany veers slightly
toward more firmness or more flexibility. It could go either
way, since the gains for both points of view were about the same.

Regardless of the decision two facts are clear. West Germany, with
its industrial and military might, reaffirmed its democracy and remains
firm with the free nations. And the career of Konrad Adenauer,
who upheld Germany's tradition of rock-like leaders which
Bismarck
began, draws near the end.

#BETTER ASK BEFORE JOINING#

AMERICANS
are a nation of joiners, a quality which our friends find endearing
and sometimes amusing. But it can be dangerous if the joiner doesn't
want to make a spectacle of himself. For instance, so-called
"conservative" organizations, some of them secret, are sprouting
in the garden of joining where "liberal" organizations once took
root. One specific example is a secret "fraternity" which
will "coordinate anti-Communist efforts". The principle is commendable
but we suspect that in the practice somebody is going to get
gulled. According to The Chicago Tribune News Service,
State Atty& Gen& Stanley Mosk of California has devised a series
of questions which the joiner might well ask about any organization
seeking his money and his name: _1._ Does it assail schools
and churches with blanket accusations? _2._ Does it attack other
traditional American institutions with unsupportable and wild charges?

_3._ Does it put the label of un-American or subversive on

everyone with whom it disagrees politically? _4._ Does it attempt
to rewrite modern history by blaming American statesmen for wars,
communism, depression, and other troubles of the world? _5._ Does
it employ crude pressure tactics with such means as anonymous telephone
calls and letter writing campaigns? _6._ Do its spokesmen
seem more interested in the amount of money they collect than in the
principles they purport to advocate? In some instances a seventh
question can be added: _7._ Does the organization show an
affinity for a foreign government, political party or personality in opposition
or preference to the American system? If the would-be
joiner asks these questions he is not likely to be duped by extremists
who are seeking to capitalize on the confusions and the patriotic
apprehensions of Americans in a troubled time. FALLING somewhere
in a category between Einstein's theory and sand fleas- difficult
to see but undeniably there, nevertheless- is the tropical green
"city" of Islandia, a string of offshore islands that has almost
no residents, limited access and an unlimited future. The latter is
what concerns us all. Whatever land you can see here, from the North
tip end of Elliott Key looking southward, belongs to someone- people
who have title to the land. And what you can't see, the land
underneath the water, belongs to someone, too. The public. The only
real problem is to devise a plan whereby the owners of the above-water
land can develop their property without the public losing its underwater
land and the right to its development for public use and enjoyment.
In the fairly brief but hectic history of Florida, the developers
of waterfront land have too often wound up with both their land and ours.
In this instance, happily, insistence is being made that our share
is protected. And until this protection is at least as concrete as,
say, the row of hotels that bars us from our own sands at Miami Beach,
those who represent us all should agree to nothing.

#CLOSED DOORS IN CITY HALL#

The reaction of certain City Council members to

California's newest anti-secrecy laws was as dismaying as it was disappointing.

We had assumed that at least this local legislative

body had nothing to hide, and, therefore, had no objections to making
the deliberations of its committees and the city commissions available
to the public. In the preamble to the open-meeting statutes,
collectively known as the Brown Act, the Legislature declares that
"the public commissions, boards and councils and other public agencies
in this state exist to aid in the conduct of the people's business.
It is the intent of the law that their actions be taken openly and
that their deliberations be conducted openly. "The people
of this state do not yield their sovereignty to the agencies that serve
them. The people, in delegating authority, do not give their public
servants the right to decide what is good for the people to know and
what is not good for them to know. The full implementation of
these noble words, however, has taken the efforts of five sessions of
the Legislature. Since 1953 California has led the nation in enacting
guarantees that public business shall be publicly conducted, but not
until this year did the lawmakers in Sacramento plug the remaining
loopholes in the Brown Act. Despite the lip service paid by
local governments, the anti-secrecy statutes have been continuously subverted
by reservations and rationalizations. When all else fails, it
is argued that open sessions slow down governmental operations.

We submit that this is a most desirable effect of the law- and one
of its principal aims. Without public scrutiny the deliberations
of public agencies would no doubt be conducted more speedily. But the
citizens would, of course, never be sure that the decisions that resulted
were as correct as they were expeditious.

#HELP WHEN NEEDED#

@ IF THE Dominican Republic achieves

free, democratic government, it will be due in large part to the U&S&
show of force that enabled President Balaguer to prevent a threatened
restoration of Trujillo dictatorship. Outwardly, Ciudad
Trujillo is calm. None of the Trujillo family remains. Mr&
Balaguer is in control, and opposition leaders have no further excuse
to suspect his offer of a coalition government preliminary to free elections
in the spring. Had U&S& warships not appeared off
the Dominican coast, there is every possibility that the country would
now be wracked by civil war. Ultimately either the Trujillos would
have been returned to power or the conflict would have produced conditions
favorable to a takeover by Dominican elements responsive to Castro
in Cuba. Within the Organization of American States,
there may be some criticism of this unilateral American intervention
which was not without risk obviously. But there was no complaint from
the Dominican crowds which lined Ciudad Trujillo's waterfront
shouting, "Vive Yankees"! More, the U&S& action was hailed
by a principal opposition leader, Dr& Juan Bosch, as having saved
"many lives and many troubles in the near future". Mr&
Balaguer's troubles are by no means over. He will need the help
of all ~OAS members to eradicate, finally, the forces of authoritarianism,
pro-Trujillo and pro-Castro alike. In cooperating toward
that objective, ~OAS might move with the speed and effectiveness
demonstrated by the United States. @

#MATTER OF SURVIVAL#

@
THOSE watching the growing rivalry between craft unions and industrial
unions may recognize all the pressures that led to the big labor
split in 1935. Now, as then, it is a matter of jobs. Craft
unions seek work that industrial unions claim, such as factory maintenance.

The issue was sufficiently potent in 1935 to spark secession

from the American Federation of Labor of its industrial union
members. That breach was healed 20 years later by merger of the American
Federation of Labor and the Congress of Industrial Organizations.
Or that's what it looked like at the time. But automation
and the increasing complexity of factories has renewed the competition
for jobs. Walter Reuther, leader of the industrial union faction
of the ~AFL-~CIO, says another two years of this squabbling
will be disastrous for all American labor. Whether it could
be as disastrous for American labor as, say, Jimmy Hoffa of the
Teamsters, is a matter of conjecture. But the jurisdictional disputes
that result from the craft-industrial rivalry do not win friends for
labor. Engaged as it is in a battle for world trade as a condition
of national survival, this country can have little patience with
labor's family feuds. The concept of labor as a special class is
outmoded, and in the task confronting America as bastion of the free
world, labor must learn to put the national interest first if it is itself
to survive. @

#DETERRENT#

@ THE Army, Navy and Air

Force, among others, may question Secretary Freeman's claim that
the high estate of United States agriculture is the "strongest
deterrent" to the spread of communism. But the secretary insists that
the success of the American farmer is the "greatest single source
of strength" in the struggle to insure freedom around the world.

Mr& Freeman said that in many of the countries he visited on

a recent world trade trip people were more awed by America's capacity
to produce food surpluses than by our industrial production- or
even by the Soviet's successes in space. This shouldn't surprise
the secretary; American taxpayers have been impressed by the surpluses
for a long, long time. In fact, over the years, the American
farmer's capacity to over-produce has cost the taxpayers a large
dollar. And thus far, Mr& Freeman has offered very little relief.

The 1961 feed grain program, which the secretary sponsored,

has been declared a billion dollar fiasco. In exchange for higher price
supports, growers pledged reduction in planted acreage. But the
farmers outsmarted Washington by shortening the distance between the
rows and pouring on the fertilizer. The result: $1.1 billion
added to the deficit in the federal budget. Perhaps, as Mr& Freeman
says, American agriculture may stop the Communists, but it is also
swindling the American taxpayer. @

#WHAT'S WRONG AT STATE#

@ A SENATE subcommittee headed by Sen& Jackson of Washington
has been going over the State Department and has reached some
predictable conclusions. The department needs a clearer "sense of
direction" at the top and it needs fewer, but better, people, Sen&
Jackson says. The subcommittee is not alone in questioning
the effectiveness of the department. President Kennedy has indicated
his dissatisfaction with its performance. But those who would
revitalize so complex an organization must, first of all, overcome the
resistance of layers of officials wedded to traditional procedures,
suspicious of innovation and fearful of mistakes. Nor does Sen&
Jackson discuss the delicate situation created by the presence in
the White House of a corps of presidential assistants engaged in the
study of foreign policy. This tends to create friction and confusion
and has not made it easier for Secretary Rusk to restore vigor and
initiative among his subordinates. But competent observers believe
he is making progress, particularly toward what Sen& Jackson
lists as the primary need- "a clearer understanding of where our
vital national interests lie and what we must do to promote them".

The Jackson report will provide some of the political support

Mr& Rusk will need if he is to get rid of department personnel
engaged, as Sen& Jackson puts it, "in work that does not really
need doing". Mr& Rusk should also draw comfort from Sen& Jackson's
recommendation that congressional methods of dealing with national
security problems be improved. Self-criticism is a rare but needed
commodity in Congress. @

#BETTING MEN#

@ FORECASTING
economic activity is a hazardous undertaking even for the specialist.
But now apparently the job of Secretary of Labor requires that he
be willing to risk his reputation as a prognosticator of unemployment
trends. James P& Mitchell, when he was the head of the department,
promised to eat his hat if unemployment didn't drop below
three million a couple of years ago. He lost, but settled for a cake
in the shape of a fedora. His successor, Secretary Goldberg,
also has been guessing wrong on a drop in the unemployment rate which
has been holding just under 7 per cent for the last 11 months. No
betting man, Mr& Goldberg says he's merely "putting my neck out
again" by predicting the rate will go down this month. He is basing
his guess on new government statistics that show business has broadened
its stride- a new record high in personal income, an increase
in housing starts, a spurt in retail sales and a gain in orders for
durable goods. Mr& Mitchell had an excuse for losing- the
steel strike lasted much longer than he anticipated. Mr& Goldberg
has less reason for missing. The economy seems to be sailing along on
an even keel and the 1961 hurricane season and auto strikes are at an
end so they can't be blamed in November. The odds thus appear favorable
that the secretary's neck may be spared. @

#LITTLE RESISTANCE#
@ CAMBODIA'S chief of state, who has been accused of
harboring Communist marauders and otherwise making life miserable for
neighboring South Viet Nam and Thailand, insists he would be very
unhappy if communism established its power in Southeast Asia.

But so convinced of communism's inevitable triumph is Prince

Sihanouk that he is ready to throw in the towel. "I have to see the
facts", is the way the prince puts it. And from that point of vantage
he concedes another two years of grace to nations maintaining a pro-Western
posture. Prince Sihanouk's powers of prognostication
some day may be confirmed but history is not likely to praise the
courage of his convictions.

#BOTTOM SIGHTED#

@ COMMERCE Secretary Hodges seems to have

been cast in the role of pacemaker for official Washington's economic
forecasters. Weeks ago he saw a business upturn in the second
quarter of this year while his colleagues in the Cabinet were shaking
their heads in disagreement. Recently Treasury Secretary Dillon and
Labor Secretary Goldberg fell into line with Mr& Hodges' appraisal,
though there has been some reluctance to do so at the White
House. And now Mr& Hodges has pioneered further into the
economic unknown with the announcement that he thinks business has stopped
sliding and that it should start going upward from this point. He
is the first top administration officer to see the bottom of the slump.

The secretary based his assessment on the upturn in retail

sales. February's volume was 1 per cent above January's for the
first pickup since last October, although it's still 1.5 per cent
off from February 1960. Corroborating Mr& Hodges' figures
was the Federal Reserve Board's report of the large sales increase
in the nation's department stores for the week ending March 4.
In Newark, for example, this gain was put at 26 per cent above the
year-earlier level. Of course, some of the credit for the sale boost
must be given to improvement in the weather and to the fact that Easter
comes more than two weeks earlier than in 1960. Another optimistic
sign, this one from the Labor Department, was the report that
the long rise in unemployment compensation payments "was interrupted
for the first time in the week ending Feb& 25". Initial claims
for jobless benefits were said to have dropped by 8,100 in the week
ending March 4. Mr& Hodges is so hopeful over the outlook
that he doesn't think there will be any need of a cut in income taxes.
Well, we can't have everything. Prosperity for the whole nation
is certainly preferred to a tax cut. @

#IN NEW JERSEY, TOO#

@ NEW JERSEY folk need not be told of the builder's march to
the sea, for in a single generation he has parceled and populated miles
of our shoreline and presses on to develop the few open spaces that
remain. Now the Stone Harbor bird sanctuary, 31 acres of magic attraction
for exotic herons, is threatened, but the battlefront extends
far beyond our state. Against the dramatic fight being waged
for preservation of 30 miles of Cape Cod shoreline, the tiny tract
at Stone Harbor may seem unimportant. But Interior Secretary Udall
warns that there is a race on between those who would develop our few
surviving open shorelines and those who would save them for the enjoyment
of all as public preserves. The move for establishment
of a national seashore park on 30,000 acres of Cape Cod, from Provincetown
to Chatham, is strengthened by President Kennedy's interest
in that area. But preservation of the natural beauty of the Cape
is of more than regional concern, for the automobile age has made it the
recreation spot of people from all over the country. By comparison,
Stone Harbor bird sanctuary's allies seem less formidable,
for aside from the Audubon Society, they are mostly the snowy,
common and cattle egrets and the Louisiana, green, little blue and
black-crowned herons who nest and feed there. But there is hope, for
Conservation Commissioner Bontempo has tagged the sanctuary as the
kind of place the state hopes to include in its program to double its
park space. The desirability of preserving such places as the
Cape dunes and Stone Harbor sanctuary becomes more apparent every
year. Public sentiment for conserving our rich natural heritage is
growing. But that heritage is shrinking even faster. @

#NO JOYRIDE#
@ MUCH of the glamor President Kennedy's Peace Corps
may have held for some prospective applicants has been removed by Sargent
Shriver, the head corpsman. Anybody who is expecting a joyride
should, according to Mr& Shriver, get off the train right now.

First of all, the recruits will have to undergo arduous schooling.

It will be a 16-hour training day. Then off to a remote place in
an underdeveloped country where the diet, culture, language and living
conditions will be different. And the pay, of course, will be nil.

Despite all this, the idea apparently has captured the imagination
of countless youths whose parents are probably more surprised by
the response than anybody else.

The study of the St& Louis area's economic prospects prepared

for the Construction Industry Joint Conference confirms and
reinforces both the findings of the Metropolitan St& Louis Survey
of 1957 and the easily observed picture of the Missouri-Illinois
countryside. St& Louis sits in the center of a relatively slow-growing
and in some places stagnant mid-continent region. Slackened
regional demand for St& Louis goods and services reflects the region's
relative lack of purchasing power. Not all St& Louis industries,
of course, have a market area confined to the immediate neighborhood.
But for those which do, the slow growth of the area has a retarding
effect on the metropolitan core. The city has a stake in stimulating
growth and purchasing power throughout outstate Missouri and Southern
Illinois. Gov& Dalton's new Commerce and Industry
Commission is moving to create a nine-state regional group in a collective
effort to attract new industry. That is one approach. Another
would be to take the advice of Dr& Elmer Ellis, president of
the University of Missouri, and provide for an impartial professional
analysis of Missouri's economy. He says the state, in order to
proceed with economic development, must develop an understanding of how
the various parts of its economy fit together and dovetail into the
national economy. @ The research center of the University's
School of Business and Public Administration is prepared to undertake
the analysis Dr& Ellis has been talking about. He and Dean
John W& Schwada of the Business School outlined the project at
a recent conference. The University can make a valuable contribution
to the state's economic development through such a study.
In Southern Illinois, the new federal program of help to economically
depressed areas ought to provide some stimulus to growth. The Carbondale
Industrial Development Corp& has obtained a $500,000 loan
to help defray the cost of remodeling a city-owned factory to accommodate
production that will provide 500 new jobs. Carbondale is in the
Herrin-Murphysboro-West
Frankfort labor market, where unemployment
has been substantially higher than the national average. The Federal
program eventually should have a favorable impact on Missouri's depressed
areas, and in the long run that will benefit St& Louis as
well. @

Politics-ridden St& Clair county in Illinois presents

another piece of the problem of metropolitan development. More industrial
acreage lies vacant in St& Clair county than in any other
jurisdiction in the St& Louis area. The unstable political situation
there represents one reason new plants shy away from the East Side.

And then there is St& Louis county, where the Democratic

leadership has shown little appreciation of the need for sound zoning,
of the important relationship between proper land use and economic
growth. St& Louis county under its present leadership also has
largely closed its eyes to the need for governmental reform, and permitted
parochial interests to take priority over area-wide interests. Some
plant-location specialists take these signs to mean St& Louis
county doesn't want industry, and so they avoid the area, and more
jobs are lost. Metropolitan St& Louis's relatively slow
rate of growth ought to be a priority concern of the political, business,
civic and other leaders on both sides of the Mississippi. Without
a great acceleration in the metropolitan area's economy, there will
not be sufficient jobs for the growing numbers of youngsters, and St&
Louis will slip into second-class status.

#AN EXCESS OF ZEAL#

Many of our very best friends are reformers. Still we must confess
that sometimes some of them go too far. Take, for example, the reformers
among New York City's Democrats. Having whipped Mr& De
Sapio in the primaries and thus come into control of Tammany Hall,
they have changed the name to Chatham Hall. Even though headquarters
actually have been moved into the Chatham building, do they believe
that they can make the new name stick? Granted that the Tammany
name and the Tammany tiger often were regarded as badges of political
shame, the sachems of the Hall also have a few good marks to
their credit. But it is tradition rather than the record which balks
at the expunging of the Tammany name. After all, it goes back to the
days in which sedition was not un-American, the days in which the Sons
of St& Tammany conspired to overthrow the government by force
and violence- the British government that is. Further, do
our reforming friends really believe that the cartoonists will consent
to the banishment of the tiger from their zoo? They will- when they
give up the donkey and the elephant. Instead of attempting the impossible,
why not a publicity campaign to prove that all the tiger's
stripes are not black? That might go over.

#THE FAGET CASE#

The
White House itself has taken steps to remove a former Batista official,
Col& Mariano Faget,
from his preposterous position as interrogator
of Cuban refugees for the Immigration Service. The
Faget appointment was preposterous on several grounds. The Kennedy
Administration had assured anti-Castro Cubans that it would have
nothing to do with associates of Dictator Batista. Using a Batista
man to screen refugees represented a total misunderstanding of the democratic
forces which alone can effectively oppose Castro. Moreover,
Col& Faget's information on Cuba was too outdated to be
useful in "screening" Castro agents; the Colonel fled to the
friendly haven of the Dominican dictatorship as soon as Castro seized
power. And while he had headed Batista's anti-Communist
section,
the Batista regime did not disturb the Communists so much as more open
opponents who were alleged to be Communists. Responsibility
for the Faget appointment rests with Gen& J& M& swing, an
Eisenhower appointee as head of the Immigration Service. Gen& Swing
has received public attention before this for abuse of some of the
prerogatives of his office. His official term expired last summer.
Some reports say he was rescued from timely retirement by his friend,
Congressman Walter of Pennsylvania, at a moment when the Kennedy
Administration was diligently searching for all the House votes it
could get. Congressman Walter has been all-powerful in immigration
matters, but he has announced plans to retire in 1962. At that
point the Administration will have little reason to hang onto Gen&
Swing. The Faget case was the kind of salvage job the Administration
should not have to repeat.

#MR& EISENHOWER, POLITICIAN#

As
President, Dwight D& Eisenhower often assumed a role aloof from
the strife of partisan politics. As a former President, however, Mr&
Eisenhower abandoned this role to engage in partisan sniping during
a New York Republican rally, and generally missed his target.

Mr& Eisenhower seized upon the incident of the postcard lost

by a Peace Corps girl in Nigeria to attack the entire Corps as a
"juvenile experiment" and to suggest sending a Corps member to the
moon. This was juvenile ridicule. Nowhere did the speaker recognize
the serious purpose of the Corps or its welcome reception abroad. His
words were the more ungracious to come from a man who lent his name
to the Eisenhower Exchange Fellowships dedicated to the same goal
of international understanding. The former President blithely
ignored recent history in speaking of "dollarette" dollars under
Kennedy Administration fiscal policies. It was the Eisenhower Administration
which produced the largest peacetime deficit. Finally,
Mr& Eisenhower found nothing but confusion in Washington.
This statement recalls the 1959 Berlin crisis, when President Eisenhower
first told reporters that Berlin could not be defended with conventional
weapons and then added that a nuclear defense was out of the
picture too. The crisis has been renewed since then but the confusion
has hardly been compounded. Ex-Presidents, relieved of accountability
for policy, sometimes seem to feel free of accountability
for their words. Some of former President Truman's off-the-cuff
discourses have been in that vein. Nobody can deny the right of former
Chief Executives to take part in politics, but the American people
expect them always to remember the obligations of national leadership
and to treat issues with a sense of responsibility. This is a matter
of respect for the Presidency. Mr& Eisenhower's New York speech
does not encourage respect for that or for his elder statesmanship.

#QUEEN OF THE SEAS#

The Queen Mary has long been a symbol of

speed, luxury, and impeccable British service on the high seas. Reports
that the venerable liner, which has been in service since 1936, was
to be retired struck a nostalgic note in many of us. But the Cunard
line, influenced by unpleasant economic facts and not sentiment, has
decided to keep the Queen Mary in service until next Spring at least.

A new queen, with the prosaic title of ~Q3, had been planned
for several years to replace the Queen Mary. The British government,
concerned about the threat of unemployment in the shipbuilding
industry, had put through a bill to give Cunard loans and grants totaling
$50,400,000 toward the $84,000,000 cost of a new 75,000-ton passenger
liner. Since 1957, more and more trans-Atlantic passengers
have been crossing by air. Economy class fares and charter flights
have attracted almost all new passengers to the airlines. Competition
from other steamship lines has cut Cunard's share of sea passengers
from one-third to one-fourth and this year the line showed a marked
drop of profits on the Atlantic run. The Cunard line has
under consideration replacing the Queen Mary with a ship smaller than
75,000 tons. This would be cheaper to operate and could be used for
cruises during the lean winter months. Also under consideration is
an increased investment in Cunard Eagle Airways which has applied to
serve New York. The decline of the Cunard line from its position
of dominance in Atlantic travel is a significant development
in the history of transportation.

#MISSION TO VIET NAM#

Gen& Maxwell
Taylor's statement in Saigon that he is "very much encouraged"
about the chances of the pro-Western government of Viet Nam
turning back Communist guerrilla attacks comes close to an announcement
that he will not recommend dispatching United States troops to
bolster the Vietnamese Army. Gen& Taylor will report to President
Kennedy in a few days on the results of his visit to South Viet
Nam and, judging from some of his remarks to reporters in the Far East,
he is likely to urge a more efficient mobilization of Vietnamese
military, economic, political and other resources. There was
good reason for Gen& Taylor to make an inspection trip at this time.
Communist guerrillas recently have been reported increasing their
activities and the great flood of the Mekong River has interposed a
new crisis. South Viet Nam's rice surplus for next year- more than
300,000 tons- may have been destroyed. The Viet Cong, the Communist
rebels, may have lost their stored grain and arms factories.
The
rebels may try to seize what is left of the October harvest when the
floods recede and the monsoon ends in November. Nothing that
is likely to happen, however, should prompt the sending of United
States soldiers for other than instructional missions. The Indochina
struggle was a war to stay out of in 1954, when Gen& Ridgway
estimated
it would take a minimum of 10 to 15 divisions at the outset to win
a war the French were losing. It is a war to stay out of today, especially
in view of the fact that President Ngo Dinh Diem apparently
does not want United States troops. He may want additional technical
help, and this should be forthcoming. South Viet Nam has received
$1,450,000,000 in United States aid since 1954 and the rate of assistance
has been stepped up since Vice President Lyndon B& Johnson's
visit last May. Gen& Taylor, the President's
special military adviser, is a level-headed officer who is not likely
to succumb to propaganda or pressure. It is probable that his recommendations
will be informed and workable, and that they will not lead to
involving the United States in an Asian morass.

Gov& John M& Dalton, himself a lawyer and a man of long

service in government, spoke with rich background and experience when
he said in an address here that lawyers ought to quit sitting in the
Missouri General Assembly, or quit accepting fees from individuals
and corporations who have controversies with or axes to grind with the
government and who are retained, not because of their legal talents,
but because of their government influence.

#THE U& N&'S 'GRAVEST CRISIS'#

Ambassador Stevenson yesterday

described the U& N&'s problem of electing a temporary
successor to the late Dag Hammarskjold as "the gravest crisis the
institution has faced". Of course it is. If the decision goes wrong,
it may be- as Mr& Stevenson fears- "the first step on the
slippery path downhill" to a U& N& without operational responsibilities
and without effective meaning. The integrity of the
office not merely requires that the Secretary General shall be, as
the Charter puts it, "the chief administrative officer of the Organization",
but that neither he nor his staff shall seek or receive instructions
from any government or any other authority "external to
the Organization". In other words, the Secretary General is to be
a nonpartisan, international servant, not a political, national one.
He should be, as Dag Hammarskjold certainly was, a citizen of the
world. The Charter does stipulate that "due regard" shall
be paid to the importance of recruiting the staff on "as wide a geographical
basis as possible". The United States and its allies have
had no objection to this. What they have objected to is the attempt
of the Russians to make use of the tragedy of Dag Hammarskjold's
death to turn the entire U& N& staff from the Secretary down
into political agents of the respective countries from which they come.

The controversy now revolves mainly around the number and geographic
origin of the deputies of the Secretary General and, more particularly,
around the nature of his relationship with them. Although
the United States and the U& S& S& R& have been arguing
whether there shall be four, five or six top assistants, the most important
element in the situation is not the number of deputies but the
manner in which these deputies are to do their work. If any one
of them has any power to veto the Secretary General's decisions
the nature of the organization will have changed. If they give him advice
when he asks it, or if they perform specified duties under his direction,
the nature of the U& N& will not of necessity change.
The Secretary General must have, subject to the constitutional direction
of the Security Council and the General Assembly, the power
to act, to propose action and to organize action without being hobbled
by advisers and assistants acting on someone else's instructions.

This is the root issue for which the United States should stand.
We should not become confused or let our public become confused over
irrelevant questions of number or even of geography. What we must
have, if the United Nations is to survive, is as nonpolitical, nonpartisan
an organization at the top as human beings can make it, subject
to no single nation's direction and subservient to no single nation's
ambition.

#WHAT THE NEW CHARTER DOES#

The new City Charter,

which should get a Yes vote as Question No& 1 on Nov& 7, would
not make a good Mayor out of a bad one. There is no such magic
in man-made laws. But it would greatly strengthen any Mayor's executive
powers, remove the excuse in large degree that he is a captive of
inaction in the Board of Estimate, increase his budget-making authority
both as to expense and capital budgets, and vest in him the right
to reorganize city departments in the interest of efficiency and economy.

Lawmaking power is removed from the Board of Estimate

and made
a partnership responsibility of the City Council and the Mayor. Thus
there is a clearer division of authority, administrative and legislative.
The board is diminished in both respects, while it retains control
over zoning, franchises, pier leases, sale, leasing and assignment
of property, and other trusteeship functions. The board will be able
to increase, decrease, add or eliminate budget items, subject to the
Mayor's veto; but the City Council will now share fully this
budget-altering power. Overriding of mayoral veto on budget changes
will require concurrence by board and Council, and a two-thirds vote.

The Controller retains his essential "fiscal watchdog" functions;

his broad but little used investigative powers are confirmed.
He loses now-misplaced tax collection duties, which go to the Finance
Department. On net balance, in spite of Controller Gerosa's
opposition to the new Charter as an invasion of his office, the Controller
will have the opportunity for greater usefulness to good government
than he has now. Borough Presidents, while retaining
membership in the Board of Estimate, lose their housekeeping functions.
Highways go to a new Department of Highways, sewers to the Department
of Public Works, such street cleaning as Borough Presidents
now do (in Queens and Richmond) to the Sanitation Department.

Some fiscal changes are important. The expense (operating) budget

is to be a program budget, and red tape is cut to allow greater autonomy
(with the Mayor approving) in fund transfers within a department.
The capital budget, for construction of permanent improvements, becomes
an appropriating document instead of just a calendar of pious promises;
but, as a second-look safeguard, each new project must undergo
a Board of Estimate public hearing before construction proceeds.

A road block to desirable local or borough improvements, heretofore

dependent on the pocketbook vote of taxpayers and hence a drag on
progress, is removed by making these a charge against the whole city
instead of an assessment paid by those immediately affected. This will
have a beneficial effect by expediting public business; it will also
correct some injustices. Enlargement of the City Council
and a new method of selecting members will be discussed tomorrow.

#INTER-AMERICAN PRESS#

The Inter-american Press Association,

which blankets the Western Hemisphere from northern Canada to Cape
Horn, is meeting in New York City this week for the first time in
eleven years. The I& A& P& A& is a reflection of the problems
and hopes of the hemisphere; and in these days this inevitably
means a concentration on the effects of the Cuban revolution.
As the press in Cuba was gradually throttled by the Castro regime,
more and more Cuban publishers, editors and correspondents were forced
into exile. The I& A& P& A& found itself driven from journalism
into politics as it did its best to bring about the downfall
of the Castro Government and the return of the Cuban press to the
freedom it knew before Batista's dictatorship began in 1952.
Freedom of the press was lost in Cuba because of decades of corruption
and social imbalances. In such conditions all freedoms are lost.
This, in more diplomatic language, is what Adlai Stevenson told the
newspaper men of Latin America yesterday on behalf of the United States
Government. He felt able to end on a note of hope. He sees evidence
of fair winds for the ten-year Alliance for Progress plan with
its emphasis on social reforms. No group can contribute more to the
success of the program than the editors and publishers of the Inter-American
Press Association.

#MEETING IN MOSCOW#

The Twenty-second
Soviet Communist Party Congress opens in Moscow today in a
situation contrasting sharply with the script prepared many months ago
when this meeting was first announced. According to the original program,
Premier Khrushchev expected the millions looking toward the Kremlin
this morning to be filled with admiration or rage- depending
upon individual or national politics- because of the "bold program
for building communism in our time" which the Congress will adopt.
But far from being concerned about whether or not Russia will have
achieved Utopia by 1980, the world is watching Moscow today primarily
for clues as to whether or not there will be nuclear Armageddon in
the immediate future. The evident contradiction between the rosy
picture of Russia's progress painted by the Communist party's
program and the enormous dangers for all humanity posed by Premier
Khrushchev's Berlin policy has already led to speculation abroad that
the program may be severely altered. Whether it is or not, the propaganda
impact on the free world of the document scheduled to be adopted
at this meeting will be far less than had been originally anticipated.
And there must be many Soviet citizens who know what is going on
and who realize that before they can hope to enjoy the full life promised
for 1980 they and their children must first survive. This
Congress will see Premier Khrushchev consolidating his power and
laying the groundwork for an orderly succession should death or illness
remove him from the scene in the next few years. The widespread purge
that has taken place the past twelve months or so among Communist
leaders in the provinces gives assurance that the party officials who
will dominate the Congress, and the Central Committee it will elect,
will all have passed the tightest possible Khrushchev screening, both
for loyalty to him and for competence and performance on the job.

#DR& CONANT'S CALL TO ACTION#

Dr& James B& Conant has

earned a nationwide reputation as a moderate and unemotional school reformer.
His earlier reports considered the American public schools
basically sound and not in need of drastic change. Now, a close look
at the schools in and around the ten largest cities, including New York,
has shattered this optimism. Dr& Conant has come away shocked
and angry. His new book, entitled "Slums and Suburbs", calls for
fast and drastic action to avert disaster. There is room for
disagreement concerning some of Dr& Conant's specific views. His
strong opposition to the transfer of Negro children to schools outside
their own neighborhood, in the interest of integration, will be
attacked by Negro leaders who have fought for, and achieved, this open
or permissive enrollment. Dr& Conant may underestimate the psychological
importance of even token equality. His suggestion that
the prestige colleges be made the training institutions for medical,
law and graduate schools will run into strong opposition from these colleges
themselves- even though what he is recommending is already taking
shape as a trend. But these are side issues to a powerful
central theme. That theme cuts through hypocrisies, complacency and
double-talk. It labels the slums, especially the Negro slums, as dead-end
streets for hundreds of thousands of youngsters. The villains
of the piece are those who deny job opportunities to these youngsters,
and Dr& Conant accuses employers and labor unions alike. The facts,
he adds, are hidden from public view by squeamish objections to calling
bad conditions by their right name and by insistence on token integration
rather than on real improvement of the schools, regardless of
the color of their students. A call for action "before it
is too late" has alarming implications when it comes from a man who,
in his
previous reports on the schools, cautioned so strongly against extreme
measures. These warnings must not be treated lightly. Dr& Conant's
conscientious, selfless efforts deserve the nation's
gratitude.
He has served in positions of greater glamour, both at home and abroad;
but he may well be doing his greatest service with his straightforward
report on the state of the public schools.

#AND NOW- MORE JUNK MAIL#

A fascinating letter has just reached

this desk from a correspondent who likes to receive so-called junk mail.
He was delighted to learn that the Post Office Department is now
going to expand this service to deliver mail from Representatives
in Congress to their constituents without the use of stamps, names, addresses
or even zone numbers. In accordance with legislation passed
at the last session of Congress, each Representative is authorized to
deliver to the Post Office in bulk newsletters, speeches and other
literature to be dropped in every letter box in his district. This means
an added burden to innumerable postmen, who already are complaining
of heavy loads and low pay, and it presumably means an increased postal
deficit, but, our correspondent writes, think of the additional junk
mail each citizen will now be privileged to receive on a regular basis.
@

#OUR CREDITORS DO NOT FORGET US#

Letter writing is a dying

art. Occasional letters are sent by individuals to one another and
many are written by companies to one another, but these are mostly
typewritten. Most mail these days consists of nothing that could truly
be called a letter.

Old, tired, trembling the woman came to the cannery. She had,
she said, heard that the plant was closing. It couldn't close, she
said. She had raised a calf, grown it beef-fat. She had, with her own
work-weary hands, put seeds in the ground, watched them sprout, bud,
blossom, and get ready to bear. She was ready to kill the beef, dress
it out, and with vegetables from her garden was going to can soup, broth,
hash, and stew against the winter. She had done it last year, and
the year before, and the year before that, and she, and her people
were dependent upon these cans for food. This did not happen in
counties of North Georgia, where the rivers run and make rich the
bottom land. Nor in South Georgia, where the summer sun shines warmly
and gives early life to the things growing in the flat fields.

This happened in Decatur, DeKalb County, not 10 miles from the

heart of metropolitian Atlanta. And now, the woman, tired and
trembling, came here to the DeKalb County cannery. "Is it so the
cannery is going to close"? O& N& Moss, 61, tall,
grey as a possum, canning plant chief since 1946, didn't know what
to say. He did say she could get her beef and vegetables in cans this
summer. He did say he was out of cans, the No& 3's, but "I requisitioned
22,000". He said he had No& 2's enough to last two
weeks more. Threat of closing the cannery is a recent one. A
three-man committee has recommended to Commission Chairman Charles
O& Emmerich that the DeKalb County cannery be closed. Reason:
the cannery loses $3,000 yearly. But DeKalb citizens, those
who use the facilities of the cannery, say the cannery is not supposed
to make any money. "The cannery", said Mrs& Lewellyn
Lundeen, an active booster of the cannery since its opening during
the war and rationing years of 1941, to handle the "victory garden"
produce, "is a service to the taxpayer. And one of the best services
available to the people who try to raise and can meat, to plant,
grow vegetables and put them up. It helps those people who help themselves.

"The county, though, seems more interested in those

people who don't even try, those who sit and draw welfare checks and
line up for surplus food". A driver of a dairy truck, who
begins work at 1 a&m& finishes before breakfast, then goes out and
grows a garden, and who has used the cannery to save and feed a family
of five, asked, "What in the world will we do"? "What
in the world", echoed others, those come with the beans, potatoes,
the tomatoes, "will any of us do"? Moss, a man who knows
how much the cannery helps the county, doesn't believe it will close.
But he is in the middle, an employe of DeKalb, but on the side
of the people. The young married people; the old couples. The
dairy truck driver; the old woman with the stew. "Don't
ask me if I think the cannery helps", he said. "Sir, I know
the cannery helps".

Most of us would be willing to admit that forgiveness comes hard.

When a person has thoughtlessly or deliberately caused us pain or
hardship it is not always easy to say, "Just forget it". There
is one thing I know; a person will never have spiritual poise and inner
peace as long as the heart holds a grudge. I know a man who held
resentment against a neighbor for more than three decades. Several years
ago I was his pastor. One night, at the close of the evening service,
he came forward, left his resentment at the altar and gave his
heart to God. After almost everyone had gone he told me the simple story
of how one of his neighbors had moved a fence a few feet over on
his land. "We tried to settle this dispute", he said, "but
could never come to an agreement. I settled it tonight", he continued.
"I leave this church with a feeling that a great weight has
been lifted off my heart, I have left my grudge at the altar and forgiven
my neighbor". Forgiveness is the door through which a
person must pass to enter the Kingdom of God. You cannot wear the banner
of God and at the same time harbor envy, jealousy and grudges in
your heart. Henry van Dyke said, "Forgive and forget if you can;
but forgive anyway". Jesus made three things clear about
forgiveness. We must, first of all, be willing to forgive others before
we can secure God's forgiveness. "For if ye forgive men their
trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you: but if ye
forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive
your trespasses". Matthew 6:14-15. It will do no good to seek
God's forgiveness until we have forgiven those who have done us wrong.

Then, Jesus indicated that God's forgiveness is unlimited.

In the prayer Jesus taught his disciples to pray we find these
words, "Forgive us our debts". When a person meets God's requirements
for the experience of forgiveness he is forgiven. God's mercy
and patience will last forever. Forgiveness implies more than a person
wanting his past sins covered by God's love. It also implies
that a man wants his future to be free from the mistakes of the past.
We want the past forgiven, but at the same time we must be willing for
God to direct the future. Finally, we must be willing to forgive
others as many times as they sin against us. Once Peter asked,
"How oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? Till
seven times? Jesus saith unto him, until seventy times seven".
Matthew 18:21-22. Jesus not only taught forgiveness, He
gave us an example of it on the cross. With all the energy of his broken
body he prayed, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what
they do". Luke 23:34.

She's been in and out of my house for a dozen years now, although
she's still a teen-ager who looks like a baby, she is getting
married. Her mother, now dead, was my good friend and when she came to
tell us about her plans and to show off her ring I had a sobering wish
to say something meaningful to her, something her mother would wish
said. For a while there was such shrill girlish commotion I couldn't
have made myself heard if I'd had the equivalent of the message
to Garcia. But when some of the squeals had subsided and she had been
through one of those sessions that are so indispensable to the young
female- six girls sprawled on one bed, drinking Cokes and giggling-
she came back to the kitchen to talk with me a minute. "How
do you know you love somebody enough to get married"? she asked.

It was the oldest and toughest question young lovers have

ever asked: How can you be sure? "Aren't you sure"?
I asked, looking at her searchingly. I wanted to grab her by the
arm and beg her to wait, to consider, to know for certain because life
is so long and marriage is so important. But if she were just having
a normal case of pre-nuptial jitters such a question might frighten
her out of a really good marriage. Besides, in all honesty, I don't
know how you can be sure. I don't know any secret recipe for certainty.
In the fevered, intoxicating, breathless state of being in love
the usual signposts that guide you to lasting and satisfying relationships
are sometimes obscured. I knew of but one test and I threw it
out to her for what it was worth. "Does he ever bore you"?
I asked. "Bore me"? she was shocked. Oh, no-o! Why,
he's so darling and **h" "I mean", I went on ruthlessly,
"when he's not talking about you or himself or the wonders
of love, is he interesting? Does he care about things that matter
to you? Can you visualize being stranded with him on a desert island
for years and years and still find him fascinating? Because,
honey, I thought silently, there are plenty of desert islands in
every marriage- long periods when you're hopelessly stranded, together.
And if you bore each other then, heaven help you. She came
back the other day to reassure me. She has studied and observed and
she is convinced that her young man is going to be endlessly enchanting.

She asked if I had other advice and, heady with success,

I rushed it in, I hope not too late. Be friends with your mother-in-law.
Jokes, cartoons and cynics to the contrary, mothers-in-law make
good friends.

I do not know Dr& Wilson Sneed well. But I was deeply moved
by his letter of resignation as rector of St& Luke's Church
in Atlanta. It was the cry of not just one heart; it spoke for many
in the clergy, I suspect. The pulpit is a lonely place. Who stops
to think of that? Imagine the searching and the prayer that
lay behind the letter the rector wrote after almost a decade of service
to this majestic church. "Such a church needs vigor and vitality
in its rector and one man has only so much of these endowments",
he told his members. A minister should not stay "beyond the
time that his leadership should benefit" his church, he wrote, "**h
for he becomes ordinary **h". @ ##

And so the young minister

resigned, to go and study and pray, having never passed a day, he
told his parishioners, when "I did not gain from you far more than
I ever gave to you". His very honest act called up the recent
talk I had with another minister, a modest Methodist, who said:
"I feel so deeply blessed by God when I can give a message of love
and comfort to other men, and I would have it no other way: and
it is unworthy to think of self. But oh, how I do sometimes need just
a moment of rest, and peace, in myself". A man who gives
himself to God and to the believers of his church takes upon himself
a life of giving. He does not expect to get great riches or he would
not have chosen to answer the call to preach. The good ones are not
motivated to seek vainly, nor are they disposed to covet comfort, or they
would have been led to fields that offer comfort and feed vanity.
Theirs is a sacrificial life by earthly standards. ##

Yet we who
lean upon such a man and draw strength from him and expect interpretation
of the infinite through him- we who readily accept his sacrifice
as our due, we of the congregations are the first to tell him what is
in our minds instead of listening to what is in his soul. We press
him to conform to our comfortable conceptions and not to bruise our satisfactions
with his word, and God's. We do not defeat the good ones
with this cruelty, but we add to their burden, while expecting them
to bestow saintliness upon us in return for ostentatious church attendance
and a few bucks a week, American cash. If we break the minister
to our bit, we are buying back our own sins. If he won't break, we
add to the stress he bears. And a minister of all men is most
conscious that he is mere man- prone to the stresses that earthly
humanity is heir to. We expect him to be noble, and to make us so-
yet he knows, and tries to tell us, how very humble man must be.

We expect bestowal of God's love through him. But how little love
we give him. The church truly is not a rest home for saints, but a
hospital for sinners. Yet every Sunday we sinners go to that emergency
room to receive first aid, and we leave unmindful that the man who
ministered to us is a human being who suffers, too.

Mr& Podger always particularly enjoyed the last night of each

summer at Loon Lake. The narrow fringe of sadness that ran around
it only emphasized the pleasure. The evening was not always
spent in the same way. This year, on a night cool with the front of September
moving in, but with plenty of summer still about, the Podgers
were holding a neighborhood gathering in the Pod. The little cottage
was bursting with people of all ages. In the midst of it all,
Mr& Podger came out on the Pod porch, alone. He had that day
attended a country auction, and he had come back with a prize.
The prize was an old-fashioned, woven cloth hammock, complete with cross-top
pillow, fringed side pieces, and hooks for hanging. Mrs& Podger
had obligingly pushed things around on the porch to make room for
it, and there it was, slung in a vine-shaded corner, the night breeze
rippling its fringe with a slow, caressing movement. Mr&
Podger sat down in it, pushed himself back and forth in one or two
slow, rhythmic motions, and then swung his feet up into it. He closed
his eyes and let the unintelligible drift of voices sweep pleasantly
over him. Suddenly one young voice rose above the others. "But",
it said, "do you always <know> when you're happy"?
The voice sank back into the general tangle of sound, but the question
stayed in Mr& Podger's mind. Here, in the cool, autumn-touched
evening, Mr& Podger mentally retraced a day that had left him greatly
contented and at peace. #@#

It had begun with the blue jay

feather. Walking along the lake before breakfast, Mr& Podger had
seen the feather, and the bird that had lost it in flight. The winging
spread of blue had gone on, calling harshly, into the wood. The
small shaft of blue had drifted down and come to rest at his feet. All
day long Mr& Podger, who was a straw-hat man in the summer, had
worn
the feather in the band of his broad-brimmed sunshield. Would a blue
feather in a man's hat make him happy all day? Hardly. But it
was something to have seen it floating down through the early morning
sunshine, linking the blue of the sky with the blue of the asters by
the lake. Then, since the auction was being held nearby, he had
walked to it. And there, on the way, had been the box turtle, that
slow, self-contained, world-ignoring relic of pre-history, bent, for
reasons best known to itself, on crossing the road. It was doing very
well, too, having reached the center, and was pursuing its way with commendable
singleness of purpose when Mr& Podger saw hazard approaching
in the shape of a flashy little sports car. Would the driver see
the turtle? Would he take pains to avoid it? Mr& Podger
took no chances. Taking off his hat and signaling the driver with
it, Mr& Podger stepped into the road, lifted the surprised turtle
and consummated its road-crossing with what must have been a breath-taking
suddenness. The turtle immediately withdrew into its private
council room to study the phenomenon. But Mr& Podger and the
driver of the sports car waved at each other. Here in the cool darkness
Mr& Podger could still feel the warmth of midday, could still
see the yellow butterflies dancing over the road, could still see the
friendly grin on the young, sun-browned face as the driver looked back
over his shoulder for a moment before the car streaked out of sight.

Where was the driver now? What was he doing? And the turtle?
Mr& Podger smiled. For a few brief minutes they had all been
part of one little drama. The three would never meet again, but for
some reason or other Mr& Podger was sure he would always remember
the incident. Then there had been the auction itself. Mr&
Podger heard again, at will, the voice of the auctioneer, the voices
of the bidders, and finally the small boy who had been so interested
in Mr& Podger's hammock purchase. "I like them things,
too", he had said. "We got one at home. You know what? If
you're lyin' out in the hammock at night, and it gets kinda cool-
you know- you just take these sides with the fringe on- see-
and wrap 'em right over you. I do it, lots o' times- I like to
lie in a hammock at night, by myself, when it's all quiet. **h The
wind moves it a little bit- you know **h". #@#

Mr& Podger
had
thanked him gravely, and now he made use of the advice. As he pulled
the fringed sides up and made himself into a cocoon, Mr& Podger
saw that thin, attractive, freckled little face again, and hoped that
the boy, too, was lying in a cool, fringed-wrapped quiet. Alacrity,
the Podger cat, came by the hammock, rubbed her back briefly
against it, and then, sure of a welcome, hopped up. She remarked that
she found the night wind a little chilly, and Mr& Podger took her
inside the fringe. Soon her purring rivaled the chirping of the tree
crickets, rivaled the hum of voices from inside the Pod. Mr&
Podger was just adding this to his pictures of the day when the screen
door opened and Pam burst out. "Dad"! she said. "It's
getting so chilly we've lighted a fire, and we're going to tell
a round robin story- a nice, scary one. We need you to start it. Why
are you out here all by yourself? Aren't you happy"?

Mr& Podger opened his cocoon and emerged, tucking Alacrity under
his arm to bring her in by the fire. "Of course I am", he said.
"Never happier in my life. I just came out here to know it".

_DALLAS_ As the South begins another school year, national and even
world
attention is directed at the region's slow progress toward racial
equality in the public schools. Desegregation is beginning in
two more important Southern cities- Dallas and Atlanta. In each
city civic and education leaders have been working hard to get public
opinion prepared to accept the inevitability of equal treatment.

These programs emphasize the acceptance of biracial classrooms peacefully.

The programs do not take sides on the issue itself. They point
out simply that "it is the law of the land". The two
cities have the examples of Little Rock and New Orleans to hold up
as warnings against resorting to violence to try to stop the processes
of desegregation. Even better, they have the examples of Nashville
and Houston to hold up as peaceful and progressive programs.
In each case there was an initial act of violence. In Nashville, a
school was dynamited. In Houston, there were a few incidents of friction
between whites and Negroes, none of which were serious. In
each city quick public reaction and fast action by the city government
halted the threats of more serious incidents. The Nashville
plan, incidentally, has become recognized as perhaps the most acceptable
and thus the most practical to put into effect in the troubled South.
It is a "stair-step" plan, in which desegregation begins in
the first grade. Each year another grade is added to the process, until
finally all 12 grades are integrated. The schedules are flexible
so that the program can be accelerated as the public becomes more tolerant
or realizes that it is something that has to be done, "so why
not now". The program has worked well in both Nashville and
Houston. It met a serious rebuff in New Orleans, where the two schools
selected for the first moves toward integration were boycotted by
white parents. Another attempt will be made this year in New Orleans
to resume the program. Generally, throughout the South,
there is a
growing impatience with the pattern of violence with which every
step of desegregation is met. Perhaps the most eloquent move
toward removal of racial barriers has been in Dallas. During the summer,
Negroes began quietly patronizing previously segregated restaurants
and lunch counters in downtown retail establishments. It was part
of a citywide move toward full integration. So successful has
been this program, worked out by white and Negro civic leaders, that
further extensions are expected in the next few months. Hotels, for
example, are ready to let down the bars. Already, at least one hotel
has been quietly taking reservations on a nonracial basis. Several conventions
have been held in recent months in hotels on a nonsegregated
basis. This is a radical change in attitude from the conditions
which prevailed several years ago, when a series of bombings was directed
against Negroes who were moving into previously all-white neighborhoods
of Dallas. It is also symptomatic of a change in attitude
which appears to be spreading all across the South. Southern
whites themselves are realizing that they had been wrong in using violence
to try to stop Negroes from claiming equal rights. They insist
they are ashamed of such violence and intimidation as occurred in Alabama
when the Freedom Riders sought to break down racial discrimination
in local bus depots. All across the South there are signs
that racial violence is finding less approval among whites who themselves
would never take active part but might once have shown a tolerant
attitude toward it. There are many causes for this change. One
of the most important is economic. Business leaders are aware now
that they suffer greatly from any outbreak of violence. They are putting
strong pressure on their police departments to keep order. In the
past these same Southerners were inclined to look the other way.

And as the businessmen have begun to act, a real sense of

co-operation
has sprung up. This co-operation has emboldened other Southern whites
to add their voices to demands for peaceable accommodation. They
realize that by acting in concert, rather than individually, they will
not be picked out as objects of retaliation- economic and
otherwise.

Since moving from a Chicago suburb to Southern California a

few months ago, I've been introduced to a new game called Lanesmanship.
Played mostly on the freeways around Los Angeles, it goes like
this: A driver cruising easily at 70 m&p&h& in Lane
~A of a four-lane freeway spies an incipient traffic jam ahead. Traffic
in the next lane appears to be moving more smoothly so he pokes
a tentative fender into Lane ~B, which is heavily populated by cars
also moving at 70 m&p&h&. The adjacent driver in Lane
~B has three choices open to him. He can (1) point his car resolutely
at the invading fender and force the other driver back into Lane
~A; (2) slow down and permit the ambivalent driver to change lanes;
or (3) alternately accelerate and decelerate, thus keeping the
first driver guessing as to his intentions, thereby making a fascinating
sport of the whole affair. The really remarkable thing to
me is that most California natives unhesitatingly elect to slow down
and permit the invading car free access. Whether or not this is done
out of enlightened self-preservation, I don't know. But it is done,
consistently and I'm both surprised and impressed. #@#

This
could never happen in my native Chicago. There such soggy acquiesence
would be looked upon as a sure sign of deteriorating manhood. In
Chicago, the driver cut out would likely jam his gas pedal to the floor
in an effort to force the other car back. Failing this, he would pull
alongside at the first opportunity and shake his fist threateningly.

This negative explanation of courtesy on the freeways, however,

does an injustice to Southern California drivers. At the risk
of losing my charge-a-plate at Marshall Field and Company, I would
like to challenge an old and hallowed stereotype. After three months
of research, I can state unequivocally that Los Angeles drivers are
considerably more courteous and competent than any other drivers I've
ever encountered. During one recent day of driving about Los
Angeles there were actually a dozen occasions when oncoming drivers
stopped an entire lane of traffic to permit me to pull out of an impossible
side street.
_MIAMI, FLA&, MARCH 17._ An out-of-town writer came up to Paul
Richards today and asked the Oriole manager if he thought his ball
club would be improved this year. Now Richards, of course, is
known as a deep thinker as baseball managers go. He can often make the
complex ridiculously simple, and vice versa. This happened to be
vice versa, but even so, the answer
was a masterpiece. "It's a whole lot easier", he said,
"to increase the population of Nevada, than it is to increase the
population of New York city". And with that he walked off to give
instruction to a rookie pitcher. "That is undoubtedly a hell
of a quote", said the writer, scratching his head. "Now, if I
can just figure out what he's talking about, I'll use it".

#TWO
SPOTS OPEN#

This was just Richard's way of saying that last

year the Birds opened spring training with a lot of jobs wide open.
Some brilliant rookies nailed them down, so that this spring just two
spots, left and right field, are really up for grabs. It should
be easier to plug two spots than it was to fill the wholesale lots
that were open last year, but so far it hasn't worked that way.

This angle of just where the Orioles can look for improvement this
year is an interesting one. You'd never guess it from the way they've
played so far this spring, but there remains a feeling among some
around here that the Orioles still have a chance to battle for the
pennant in 1961. Obviously, if this club is going to move from
second to first in the American League, it will have to show improvement
someplace. Where can that improvement possibly come from?

You certainly can't expect the infield to do any better than

it did last year.

#ROBBY COULD BE BETTER#

Brooks Robinson is great,

and it is conceivable that he'll do even better in 1961 than he
did in 1960. You can't expect it, though. Robby's performance last
year was tremendous. It's the same with Ron Hansen and
jim Gentile. If they do as well as they did in 1960 there can be no
complaint. They shouldn't be asked to carry any more of the burden.

Hansen will be getting a late spring training start, which might

very well set him back. He got off to an exceptional start last season,
and under the circumstances probably won't duplicate it.

There are some clubs which claim they learned something about pitching
to him last year. They don't expect to stop him, just slow him
down some with the bat. He'll still be a top player, they concede,
because he's got a great glove and the long ball going for him. But
they expect to reduce his over-all offensive production.

#BREEDING
MIGHT MOVE UP#

Gentile can hardly do better than drive in 98 runs.

Don't ask him more. I have a hunch Marv Breeding might move
up a notch. But even so, he had a good year in 1960 and won't do
too much better. So, all in all, the infield can't be expected
to supply the added improvement to propel the Birds from second
to first. And the pitching will also have trouble doing better.
Richards got a great performance out of his combination of youth and
experience last season. Where, then, can we look for improvement?

"From Triandos, Brandt and Walker", answers Richards.

"They're the ones we can expect to do better". The
man is right, and at this time, indications are that these three are
ready for better seasons. Triandos hasn't proved it yet, but
he says he's convinced his thumb is all right. He jammed it this
spring and has had to rest it, but he says the old injury hasn't bothered
him. If he can bounce back with one of those 25 home runs years,
the club will have to be better off offensively. I'm still
not convinced, though, I'll have to see more of him before predicting
that big year for him. Hank Foiles, backed up by Frank House
who will be within calling distance in the minors, make up better second
line catching than the Birds had all last year, but Gus is still
that big man you need when you start talking pennant. To me,
Brandt
looks as though he could be in for a fine year. He hasn't played
too much, because Richards has been working on him furiously in batting
practice. He's hitting the ball hard, in the batting cage, and
his whole attitude is improved over this time last year. When
he came to Baltimore, he was leaving a team which was supposed to win
the National League pennant, and he was joining what seemed to be
a second division American League club. He was down, hard to talk
to,
and far too nonchalant on the field. As of now, that all seems behind
him. He's been entirely different all spring. And Walker
looks stronger, seems to be throwing better than he did last year. Let
him bounce back, and he could really set up the staff. So,
if the Orioles are to improve, Brandt, Triandos and Walker will have
to do it. So far the platoons on left and right fielders don't
seem capable of carrying the load. Of course, this isn't
taking into consideration the population of Nevada and New York
city, but it's the way things look from here at this point.

Is the mother of an "autistic" child at fault? (The "autistic"

child is one who seems to lack a well-defined sense of self.
He tends to treat himself and other people as if they were objects-
and sometimes he treats objects as if they were people.) Did his
mother make him this way? Some people believe she did.

We think differently. We believe that autism, like so many other conditions

of defect and deviation, is to a large extent inborn. A mother
can help a child adapt to his difficulties. Sometimes she
can- to a large extent- help him overcome them. But we don't think
she creates them. We don't think she can make her child defective,
emotionally disturbed or autistic. The mother of a difficult
child can do a great deal to help her own child and often, by sharing
her experiences, she can help other mothers with the same problem.
Since little is known about autism, and almost nothing has been written
for the layman, we'd like to share one experienced mother's comments.
She wrote:

#TOTAL DISINTEREST#
"As the mother of an autistic
child who is lacking in interest and enthusiasm about almost anything,
I have to manipulate my son's fingers for him when he
first
plays with a new toy. He wants me to do everything for him. "You
don't believe that autistic children become autistic because of
something that happens to them or because of the way their mother treats
them. But I do and my psychiatrist does, too. I know, that my
son wants control and direction, but being autistic myself I cannot give
full control or direction. "One thing I notice which I
have seldom heard mentioned. This is that autistic people don't enjoy
physical contact with others- for instance, my children and I.
When I hold my son he stiffens his whole body in my arms until he is
as straight and stiff as a board. He pushes and straightens himself
as if he can't stand the feeling of being held. Physical contact is
uncomforatble for him"! This mother is quite correct. As
a rule, the autistic child doesn't enjoy physical contact with others.
Parents have to find other ways of comforting him. For the young
child this may be no more than providing food, light or movement. As
he grows older it may be a matter of providing some accustomed object
(his "magic" thing). Or certain words or rituals that child and
adult go through may do the trick. The answer is different for each autistic
child, but for most there is an answer. Only ingenuity will uncover
it.

#WHAT FUTURE HOLDS#

"Dear Doctors: We learned this

year that our older son, Daniel, is autistic. We did not accept the
diagnosis at once, but gradually we are coming to. Fortunately, there
is a nursery school which he has been able to attend, with a group
of normal children. "I try to treat Daniel as if he were normal,
though of course I realize he is far from that at present. What
I do is to try to bring him into contact with reality as much as possible.
I try to give him as many normal experiences as possible.

"What is your experience with autistic children? How do they

turn out later"? Many autistic children grow up to lead
relatively normal lives. Certainly, most continue to lack a certain warmth
in communication with other people, but many adjust to school, even
college, to jobs and even to marriage and parenthood.

#SINGLE-COLOR
USE#

_QUESTION_- <A first grader colors pictures one solid color,

everything- sky, grass, boy, wagon, etc&. When different colors
are used, she is just as likely to color trees purple, hair green,
etc&>. <The other children in the class use this same coloring
book and do a fairly good job with things their proper color. Should
I show my daughter how things should be colored? She is an aggressive,
nervous child. Is a relaxed home atmosphere enough to help
her outgrow these traits?> _ANSWER_- Her choice of one color
means she is simply enjoying the motor act of coloring, without having
reached the point of selecting suitable colors for different objects.
This immature use of crayons may suggest that she is a little immature
for the first grade. No, coloring isn't exactly something
you teach a child. You sometimes give them a little demonstration,
a little guidance, and suggestions about staying inside the lines. But
most learn to color and paint as and when they are ready with only
a very little demonstration.

SEEN in decorating circles of late is a renewed interest

in an old art: embroidery. Possibly responsible for this is the incoming
trend toward multicolor schemes in rooms, which seems slated to
replace the one-color look to which we have been accustomed. Just as
a varitinted Oriental rug may suggest the starting point for a room scheme,
so may some of the newest versions of embroidery. One such,
in fact, is a rug. Though not actually crewel embroidery, it has
that look with its over-stitched raised pattern in blue, pink, bronze
and gold and a sauterne background. The twirled, stylized design of
winding stems and floral forms strongly suggests the embroidered patterns
used so extensively for upholstery during the Jacobean period in
England. Traditional crewel embroidery which seems to be appearing
more frequently this fall than in the past few years is still available
in this country. The work is executed in England (by hand) and
can be worked in any desired design and color. Among some recent
imports were seat covers for one series of dining room chairs on
which were depicted salad plates overflowing with tomatoes and greens
and another set on which a pineapple was worked in naturalistic color.

#CHINESE INFLUENCE#

For a particularly fabulous room which houses

a collection of fine English Chippendale furniture, fabric wall panels
were embroidered with a typically Chinese-inspired design of this
revered Eighteenth Century period. Since the work is done by hand,
the only limitation, it is said, "is that of human conception".

Modern embroidered panels, framed and meant to be hung on the

wall, are another aspect of this trend. These have never gone out of
style in Scandinavian homes and now seem to be reappearing here and
there in shops which specialize in handicrafts. An amateur decorator
might try her hand at a pair during the long winter evenings, and, by
picking up her living room color scheme, add a decorative do-it-yourself
note to the room.

California Democrats this weekend will take the wraps off a 1962
model statewide campaign vehicle which they have been quietly assembling
in a thousand district headquarters, party clubrooms and workers'
backyards. They seem darned proud of it. And they're
confident that the ~GOP, currently assailed by dissensions
within the ranks, will be impressed by the purring power beneath the hood
of this grassroots-fueled machine. #@#

Their meeting at San

Francisco is nominally scheduled as a conference of the California
Democratic Council directorate. But it will include 200-odd officeholders,
organization leaders and "interested party people".

Out of this session may come: _1_- Plans for a dramatic,

broad-scale party rally in Los Angeles next December that would enlist
top-drawer Democrats from all over the country. _2_- Blueprints
for doubling the ~CDC's present 55,000 enrollment. _3_-
Arrangements for a statewide pre-primary endorsing convention in
Fresno next Jan& 26-28. _4_- And proposals for a whole series
of lesser candidate-picking conventions in the state's 38 new Congressional
districts. At the head of the ~CDC is an unorthodox,
39-year-old amateur politico, Thomas B& Carvey Jr&,
whose normal profession is helping develop Hughes Aircraft's moon
missiles. He's approached his Democratic duties in hard-nosed engineering
fashion. #@#

Viewed from afar, the ~CDC looks like

a rather stalwart political pyramid: its elected directorate fans out
into an array of district leaders and standing committees, and thence
into its component clubs and affiliated groups- 500 or so.
Much of its strength stems from the comfortable knowledge that every
"volunteer" Democratic organization of any consequence belongs to
the ~CDC. #@#

Moreover, the entire state Democratic hierarchy,

from Gov& Brown on down to the county chairmen, also participates
in this huge operation. Contrarily, Republican "volunteers"
go their separate ways, and thus far have given no indication
that they'd be willing to join forces under a single directorate,
except in the most loose-knit fashion. Carvey believes that
reapportionment,
which left many Democratic clubs split by these new district
boundaries, actually will increase ~CDC membership. Where
only one club existed before, he says, two will flourish henceforth.

Biggest organizational problem, he adds, is setting up ~CDC

units in rock-ribbed Democratic territory. Paradoxically the council
is weakest in areas that register 4- and 5-to-1 in the party's
favor, strongest where Democrats and Republicans compete on a fairly
even basis. Like most Democratic spokesmen, Carvey predicts
1962 will be a tremendously "partisan year". Hence the attention
they're lavishing on the ~CDC. In all probability, the
council will screen and endorse candidates for the Assembly and for
Congress, and then strive to put its full weight behind these pre-primary
favorites. This bodes heated contests in several districts where
claims have already been staked out by Democratic hopefuls who don't
see eye-to-eye with the ~CDC. Naturally, the statewide
races will provide the major test for the expanding council. Shunted
aside by the rampant organizers for John F& Kennedy last
year, who relegated it to a somewhat subordinate role in the Presidential
campaign, the ~CDC plainly intends to provide the party's
campaign muscle in 1962. There is evidence that it will be happily received
by Gov& Brown and the other constitutional incumbents. #@#

Carvey considers that former Vice President Nixon would be Brown's

most formidable foe, with ex-Gov& Knight a close second.
But the rest of the ~GOP gubernatorial aspirants don't worry
him very much. In his ~CDC work, Carvey has the close-in
support and advice of one of California's shrewdest political strategists:
former Democratic National Committeeman Paul Ziffren,
who backed him over a Northland candidate espoused by Atty& Gen&
Stanley Mosk. (Significantly, bitter echoes of the 1960 power struggle
that saw Mosk moving into the national committee post over Ziffren
are still audible in party circles.) #@#

NOTE: We've
just received an announcement of the 54th Assembly district post-reapportionment
organizing convention Wednesday night in South
Pasadena's War Memorial Bldg&, which graphically illustrates the
~CDC's broad appeal. State Sen& Dick Richards will keynote;
state and county
committeemen, ~CDC directors and representatives,
members of 16 area clubs, and "all residents" have been invited.

This is going to be a language lesson, and you can master it in

a few minutes. It is a short course in Communese. It works
with English, Russian, German, Hungarian or almost any other foreign
tongue. Once you learn how to translate Communese, much of each
day's deluge of news will become clearer. At least, I have found it
so. #@#

For some compulsive reason which would have fascinated

Dr& Freud, Communists of all shapes and sizes almost invariably
impute to others the very motives which they harbor themselves. They
accuse their enemies of precisely the crimes of which they themselves
are most guilty. President Kennedy's latest warning to the
Communist world that the United States will build up its military
strength to meet any challenge in Berlin or elsewhere was somewhat surprisingly,
reported in full text or fairly accurate excerpts behind the
Iron Curtain. Then the Communese reply came back from many mouthpieces
with striking consistency. Now listen closely:
Moscow radio from the Literary Gazette in English to England:
#@#

"President Kennedy once again interpreted the Soviet proposals,

to sign a peace treaty with Germany as a threat, as part of
the world menace allegedly looming over the countries of capitalism. Evidently
the war drum beating and hysteria so painstakingly being stirred
up in the West have been planned long in advance. The West Berlin
crisis is being played up artificially because it is needed by the
United States to justify its arms drive". The Soviet news
agency ~TASS datelined from New York in English to Europe:

"President Kennedy's enlargement of the American military

program was welcomed on Wall Street as a stimulus to the American
munitions industry. When the stock exchange opened this morning,
many dealers were quick to purchase shares in Douglas, Lockheed and
United Aircraft and prices rose substantially. Over 4 million shares
were sold, the highest figures since early June. (Quotations follow".)

~TASS datelined Los Angeles, in English to Europe:

"Former Vice President Nixon came out in support of

President Kennedy's program for stepping up the arms race. He also
demanded that Kennedy take additional measures to increase international
tension: specifically to crush the Cuban revolution, resume
nuclear testing, resist more vigorously admission of China to its lawful
seat in the United Nations, and postpone non-military programs at
home". ~TASS from Moscow in English to Europe:

"The American press clamored for many days promising President

Kennedy would reply to the most vital domestic and foreign problems
confronting the United States. In fact, the world heard nothing
but sabre-rattling, the same exercises which proved futile for the
predecessors of the current President. If there were no West Berlin
problem, imperialist quarters would have invented an excuse for stepping
up the armaments race to try to solve the internal and external problems
besetting the United States and its ~NATO partners. Washington
apparently decided to use an old formula, by injecting large
military appropriations to speed the slow revival of the U&S& economy
after a prolonged slump". #@#

And now, for Communist

listeners and readers: Moscow Radio in Russian to the ~USSR:

"The U&S& President has shown once again that

the United States needs the fanning of the West Berlin crisis
to justify the armaments race. As was to be expected Kennedy's latest
speech was greeted with enthusiasm by revenge-seeking circles in Bonn,
where officials of the West German government praised it".

Moscow Novosti article in Russian, datelined London:

"U&S& pressure on Britain to foster war hysteria over the status

of West Berlin has reached its apogee. British common sense is
proverbial. The present attempts of the politicians to contaminate
ordinary Britons shows that this British common sense is unwilling to
pull somebody else's chestnuts out of the fire by new military adventures".
#@#

East Berlin (Communist) radio in German to Germany:

"A better position for negotiations is the real point

of this speech. Kennedy knows the West will not wage war for West
Berlin, neither conventional nor nuclear, and negotiations will come
as certainly as the peace treaty. Whenever some Washington circles
were really ready for talks to eliminate friction they have always
succumbed to pressure from the war clique in the Pentagon and in Bonn.
In Kennedy's speech are cross currents, sensible ones and senseless
ones, reflecting the great struggle of opinions between the President's
advisers and the political and economic forces behind them.
Well, dear listeners, despite all the shouting, there will be no war
over West Berlin". Moscow ~TASS in Russian datelined
Sochi: "Chairman Khrushchev received the U&S& President's
disarmament adviser, John McCloy. Their conversation
and dinner passed in a warm and friendly atmosphere". Now,
to translate from the Communese, this means: The "West Berlin"
crisis is really an East Berlin crisis. #@#

The crisis
was artificially stirred up by the Kremlin (Wall Street) and the
Red Army (Pentagon) egged on by the West Germans (East Germans).

The reason was to speed up domestic production in the ~USSR,

which Khrushchev promised upon grabbing power, and try to end
the permanent recession in Russian living standards. Chairman
Khrushchev (Kennedy) rattles his rockets (sabre) in order to cure
his internal ills and to strengthen his negotiating position. His advisers
in the Politburo (White House) are engaged in a great struggle
of opinions, so he is not always consistent. The Soviet Union
will fight neither a conventional nor a nuclear war over Berlin,
and neither will its Warsaw Pact allies. The West has no intention
of attacking Russia. Chairman Khrushchev and John McCloy
had a terrible row at Sochi. See, Communese is easy- once
you get onto it.

Aug& 4, 1821, nearly a century after Benjamin Franklin founded

the Pennsylvania Gazette- a century during which it had undergone
several changes in ownership and a few brief suspensions in publication-
this paper made its first appearance as the Saturday Evening
Post. The country was now full of Gazettes and Samuel C& Atkinson
and Charles Alexander, who had just taken over Franklin's
old paper, desired a more distinctive name. When founded by Franklin
the Gazette was a weekly family newspaper and under its new name
its format remained that of a newspaper but its columns gradually
contained more and more fiction, poetry, and literary essays. In the
middle of the century, with a circulation of 90,000, the Post was one
of the most popular weeklies in the country. But during the second half
of the century its fortunes reached a low point and when in 1897 Cyrus
H& K& Curtis purchased it- "paper, type, and all"-
for $1,000 it was a 16-page weekly filled with unsigned fiction and
initialed miscellany, and with only some 2,000 subscribers. Little
more than a fine old name, valuable principally because of the
Franklin tradition, the Saturday Evening Post was slow to revive.
But Curtis poured over $1 million into it and in time it again became
one of the most popular weeklies of the country.

"Remember the French railroad baron who was going to take me

floating down the Nile"? **h "Remember the night Will Rogers
filled a tooth for me between numbers"? **h "Sure, we met a
barrel of rich men but it's hard to find the real thing when you're
young, beautiful and the toast of two continents" **h "Remember
Fanny Brice promised my mother she would look after me on the road"?

All this remembering took place the other night when I

had supper with the Ziegfeld Girls at the Beverly Hills Club.

A quarter of a century has gone by since this bevy of walking dreams

sashayed up and down the staircases of the old New Amsterdam Theater,
N&Y&. But watching Mrs& Cyril Ring, Berniece Dalton
Janssen, Mrs& Robert Jarvis, Mrs& Walter Adams order low-calory
seafood, no bread, I could see the Ziegfeld Girls of 1920
were determined to be glamorous grandmothers of 1961. I was
anxious to hear about those dazzling days on the Great White Way. All
I could remember was Billie Dove pasted over the ceiling of my
big brother's room. "Billie was really beautiful"! exclaimed
Vera Forbes Adams, batting lovely big eyes behind glitter rimmed
glasses.

SING SING'S prisoner strike was motivated by a reasonable

purpose, a fair break from parole boards. But once the strike trend
hits hoosegows, there is no telling how far it may go. Inmates might
even demand the 34-hour week, all holidays off and fringe benefits including
state contributions toward lawyers' fees. Some day we might
see a Federation of Prison and Jail Inmates, with a leader busily
trying to organize reformatory occupants, defendants out on bail, convicts
opposed to probation officers, etc&. _@_ A three-day confinement
week, with a month's vacation and shorter hours all around
could be an ultimate demand from cell occupants of the nation, with
fringe benefits including: _1._ Wider space between iron bars
and agreement by prison boards to substitute rubber in 20 per cent of
metal. _2._ An agreement allowing convicts to pass on type of locks
used on prison doors. In case of a deadlock between prison boards
and inmates, a federal arbitration board to include a "lifer" and
two escapees should decide the issue. _3._ Specific broadening of
travel rights. _4._ The right to leave the hoosegow any time to
see a lawyer instead of waiting for a lawyer to make a trip to the prison.

_5._ Recognition of Prisoners Union rule that no member of

an iron or steel workers union be permitted to repair a sawed-off bar
without approval and participation of representative of the cell occupant.

_6._ No warden or guard to touch lock, key or doorknob except

when accompanied by a prisoners' committee with powers of veto.

_7._ State and federal approval of right to walk out at any time
when so voted by 51 per cent of the prisoners. #@#

The death of
Harold A& Stevens, oldest of the Stevens brothers, famed operators
of baseball, football and race track concessions, revived again the
story of one of the greatest business successes in history. Harold,
with brothers Frank, Joe and William, took over at the death of their
father, Harry M& Stevens, who put a few dollars into a baseball
program, introduced the "hot dog" and paved the way for creation
of a catering empire. Family loyalties and cooperative work have been
unbroken for generations. #@#

~IBM has a machine that can

understand spoken words and talk back. Nevertheless, it will seem
funny to have to send for a mechanic to improve conversation. #@#

Rembrandt's "Aristotle Contemplating Bust of Homer" brought

$2,300,000 at auction the other night. Both Aristotle and Homer
may in spirit be contemplating "bust" of the old-fashioned American
dollar. #@#

The owner of the painting got it for $750,000,

sold it for $500,000 in a market crash, and bought it back for $590,000.
Apologies are in order from anybody who said "Are you sure you're
not making a mistake"? #@#

"Wagon Train" is reported

the No& 1 ~TV show. After all, where else can the public see
a wagon these days? #@#

Lucius Beebe's book, "Mr&

Pullman's Elegant Palace Car", fills us with nostalgia, recalling
days when private cars and Pullmans were extra wonderful, with fine
woodwork, craftsmanship in construction, deep carpets and durable upholstery.
Beebe tells of one private car that has gold plumbing. Jay
Gould kept a cow on one de luxer.

_WASHINGTON_- Rep& Frelinghuysen, ~R-5th Dist&, had a

special reason for attending the reception at the Korean Embassy for
Gen& Chung Hee Park, the new leader of South Korea. Not
only is Mr& Frelinghuysen a member of the House Foreign Affairs
Committee, but he is the grandson of the man who was instrumental
in opening relations between the United States and Korea, Frederick
T& Frelinghuysen, secretary of state in the administration of Chester
A& Arthur. In addition Rep& Frelinghuysen's brother
Harry was on the Korean desk of the State Department in World War
/2,. Next year is the 80th anniversary of the signing of
the treaty between Korea and the United States and experts in Seoul
are trying to find the correspondence between Frederick Frelinghuysen,
who was secretary of state in 1883 and 1884, and Gen& Lucius
Foote, who was the first minister to Korea. They enlisted the
help of the New Jersey congressman, who has been able to trace the
letters to the national archives, where they are available on microfilm.

#ON THE JOB#

A top official of the New Frontier who kept a

record of his first weeks on the job here gives this report of his experiences:

In his first six weeks in office he presided over

96 conferences, attended 35 official breakfasts and dinners, studied
and signed 285 official papers and personally took 312 telephone calls.

In addition, he said, he has answered more than 400 messages

of congratulations which led him to the comment that he himself had decided
he wouldn't send another congratulatory message for the rest
of his life. _@_ Sen& Case ~R-N&J&, has received a
nice "thank you" note from a youngster he appointed to the Air Force
Academy in Colorado. Air Force life is great, the cadet
wrote, "though the fourth-class system is no fun". He invited Mr&
Case to stop by to say hello if he ever visited the academy and
then added that he was on the managerial staff of the freshman football
team "We have just returned from Roswell, N&M&, where
we were defeated, 34 to 9", the young man noted. "We have a
tremendous amount of talent- but we lack cohesion". @

#KIND MR&
SAM#

Among the many stories about the late Speaker Rayburn is

one from Rep& Dwyer, ~R-6th Dist&. Mrs& Dwyer's husband,
M& Joseph Dwyer, was taking a 10-year-old boy from Union County
on the tour of the Capitol during the final weeks of the last session.
They ran across Mr& Rayburn and the youngster expressed a
desire to get the Speaker's autograph. Mr& Dwyer said that
although it was obvious that Mr& Rayburn was not well he stopped,
gave the youngster his autograph, asked where he was from and expressed
the hope that he would enjoy his visit to Congress. Two
days later Mr& Rayburn left Washington for the last time.

THE 350th anniversary of the King James Bible is being

celebrated simultaneously with the publishing today of the New Testament,
the first part of the New English Bible, undertaken as a new
translation of the Scriptures into contemporary English. Since
it was issued in the spring of 1611, the King James Version has
been most generally considered the most poetic and beautiful of all translations
of the Bible. However, Biblical scholars frequently attested
to its numerous inaccuracies, as old manuscripts were uncovered
and scholarship advanced. This resulted in revisions of the King
James Bible in 1881-85 as the English Revised Version and in
1901 as the American Standard Version. Then in 1937 America's
International Council of Religious Education authorized a new revision,
in the light of expanded knowledge of ancient manuscripts and languages.
Undertaken by 32 American scholars, under the chairmanship
of Rev& Dr& Luther A& Weigle, former dean of Yale University
Divinity School, their studies resulted in the publishing of the
Revised Standard Version, 1946-52.
#NOT RIVAL#

The New English

Bible (the Old Testament and Apocrypha will be published at a
future date) has not been planned to rival or replace the King James
Version, but, as its cover states, it is offered "simply as the Bible
to all those who will use it in reading, teaching, or worship".

Time, of course will testify whether the new version will have
achieved its purpose. Bible reading, even more so than good classical
music, grows in depth and meaning upon repetition. If this
new Bible does not increase in significance by repeated readings throughout
the years, it will not survive the ages as has the King James
Version. However, an initial perusal and comparison of some
of the famous passages with the same parts of other versions seems to
speak well of the efforts of the British Biblical scholars. One is
impressed with the dignity, clarity and beauty of this new translation
into contemporary English, and there is no doubt that the meaning of
the Bible is more easily understandable to the general reader in contemporary
language than in the frequently
archaic words and phrases of the
King James. For example, in the third chapter of Matthew, verses
13-16, describing the baptism of Jesus, the 1611 version reads:

"Then cometh Jesus from Galilee to Jordan unto John,

to be baptized of him. "But John forbad him, saying, I have
need to be baptized of thee, and comest thou to me? "And
Jesus answering said unto him, Suffer it to be so now: for thus it
becometh us to fulfill all righteousness. Then he suffered him.

"And Jesus, when he was baptized went up straightway out of the

water: and lo, the heavens were opened unto him, and he saw the Spirit
of God descending like a dove, and lighting upon him".

#CLEARER
MEANING#

Certainly, the meaning is clearer to one who is not

familiar with Biblical teachings, in the New English Bible which reads:
"Then Jesus arrived at Jordan from Galilee, and he came
to John to be baptized by him. John tried to dissuade him. 'Do you
come to me'? he said; 'I need rather to be baptized by you'.
Jesus replied, 'let it be so for the present; we do well to
conform this way with all that God requires'. John then allowed him
to come. After baptism Jesus came up out of the water at once, and
at that moment heaven opened; he saw the Spirit of God descending
like a dove to alight upon him"; (the paragraphing, spelling
and punctuation are reproduced as printed in each version.)
Among the most frequently quoted Biblical sentences are the Beatitudes
and yet so few persons, other than scholars, really understand the
true meaning of these eight blessings uttered by Jesus at the beginning
of the Sermon on the Mount. To illustrate, the first blessing
in the King James Bible reads: "Blessed are the poor in
spirit; for their's is the kingdom of heaven". The new version
states: "How blest are those who know that they are poor; the
kingdom of Heaven is theirs". Some of the poetic cadence of
the older version certainly is lost in the newer one, but almost anyone,
with a fair knowledge of the English language, can understand the
meaning, without the necessity of interpretation by a Biblical scholar.
To a novice
that is significant. In the second and third
chapters of Revelation the new version retains, however, the old phrase
"angel of the church" which Biblical scholars have previously
interpreted as meaning bishop. This is not contemporary English.

#MOSTLY
CONTEMPORARY#

For the most part, however, the new version is

contemporary and, as such, should be the means for many to attain a
clearer comprehension of the meaning of those words recorded so many hundreds
of years ago by the first followers of Christ. Originally
recorded by hand, these words have been copied and recopied, translated
and retranslated through the ages. Discoveries recently made of
old Biblical manuscripts in Hebrew and Greek and other ancient writings,
some by the early church fathers, in themselves called for a restudy
of the Bible. To have the results recorded in everyday usable
English should be of benefit to all who seek the truth. There
is one danger, however. With contemporary English changing with the
rapidity that marks this jet age, some of the words and phrases of the
new version may themselves soon become archaic. The only answer will
be continuous study. The New Testament offered to the public
today is the first result of the work of a joint committee made up
of representatives of the Church of England, Church of Scotland,
Methodist Church, Congregational Union, Baptist Union, Presbyterian
Church of England, Churches in Wales, Churches in Ireland,
Society of Friends, British and Foreign Bible Society and National
Society of Scotland. Prof& C& H& Dodd, 76, a Congregational
minister and a leading authority on the New Testament,
is general director of the project and chairman of the New Testament
panel.

Sizzling temperatures and hot summer pavements are anything but

kind to the feet. That is why it is important to invest in comfortable,
airy types of shoes. There are many soft and light shoe
leathers available. Many styles have perforations and an almost weightlessness
achieved via unlined leathers. Softness is found in crushed
textures. Styles run the gamut from slender and tapered with
elongated toes to a newer squared toe shape. Heels place emphasis on
the
long legged silhouette. Wine glass heels are to be found in both high
and semi-heights. Stacked heels are also popular on dressy or tailored
shoes. Just the barest suggestion of a heel is found on teenage
pumps.

#COOLEST SHADE#

While white is the coolest summer shade,

there are lots of pastel hues along with tintable fabrics that will blend
with any wardrobe color. In the tintable group are high and
little heels, squared and oval throats, and shantung-like textures.

Don't overlook the straws this year. They come in crisp basket
weaves in natural honey hues, along with lacey open weaves with a
lustre finish in natural, white, black and a whole range of colors. In
the casual field straws feature wedge heels of cork or carved wood in
a variety of styles. For added comfort some of the Italian designed
sandals have foam padded cushioning. The citrus tones popular
in clothing are also to be found afoot. Orange and lemon are considered
important as are such pastels as blue and lilac. In a brighter nautical
vein is Ille de France blue. Contrast trim provides other touches
of color. Spectators in white crush textures dip toe and heel
in smooth black, navy and taffy tan.

#DESIGNED FOR EASE#

Designed
for summer comfort are the shoes illustrated. At the left is a pair
of dressy straw pumps in a light, but crisp texture. In a lacey open
weave shoes have a luster finish, braided collar and bow highlight on
the squared throat. At right is a casual style in a crushed unlined
white leather. Flats have a scalloped throat.

An electric toothbrush (Broxodent) may soon take its place next

to the electric razor in the American bathroom. The brush moves up
and down and is small enough to clean every dental surface, including
the back of the teeth. In addition, the motor has the seal of approval
of the Underwriters Laboratories, which means it is safe.
The unit consists of a small motor that goes on as soon as it is plugged
in. The speed is controlled by pressing on the two brake buttons
located where the index finger and thumb are placed when holding the
motor. The bushes can be cleaned and sterilized by boiling and are detachable
so that every member of the family can have his own.
Most of us brush our teeth by hand. The same can be said of shaving
yet the electric razor has proved useful to many men. The electric
toothbrush moves in a vertical direction, the way dentists recommend.
In addition, it is small enough to get into crevices, jacket and
crown margins, malposed anteriors, and the back teeth. The bristles
are soft enough to massage the gums and not scratch the enamel.

It is conceivable that Broxodent could do a better job than ordinary

bushing, especially in those who do not brush their teeth properly.
Several dentists and patients with special dental problems have experimented
with the device. The results were good although they are difficult
to compare with hand brushing, particularly when the individual
knows how to brush his teeth properly. The electric gadget is most helpful
when there are many crowned teeth and in individuals who are elderly,
bedfast with a chronic disease, or are handicapped by disorders
such as cerebral palsy or muscular dystrophy. But for many of
us, it will prove an enjoyable luxury. It is not as convenient as the
old type toothbrush and the paste tends to shimmy of the bristles. Since
the apparatus is new, it requires experimentation and changes in
technique.

#TURN OVER#

@ writes: Does numbness in the left

hand at night, which awakens the person, indicate brain tumor? _REPLY_
No. This is a common symptom and the cause usually is pressure
on the nerve leading to the affected hand. The pressure may come from
muscles, tendons, or bones anywhere from the neck to the hand.

#STEAM
BATHS#

@ writes: Do steam baths have any health value?

_REPLY_ No, other than cleaning out the pores and making the sweat
glands work harder. An ordinary hot bath or shower will do the same.

#SEWING BRINGS NUMBNESS#

@ writes: What makes my hands numb

when sewing? _REPLY_ There are many possibilities, including
poor circulation, a variety of neurological conditions, and functional
disorders. This manifestation may be an early sign of multiple sclerosis
or the beginning of sewer's cramp.

#BRACE FOR SCIATICA#

@
writes: Does a brace help in sciatica? _REPLY_ A back brace
might help, depending upon the cause of sciatica.

#CHOLESTEROL AND
THYROID#

@ writes: Does the cholesterol go down when most of

the thyroid gland is removed? _REPLY_ No. It usually goes up.
The cholesterol level in the blood is influenced by the glands of the
body. It is low when the thyroid is overactive and high when the gland
is sluggish. The latter is likely to occur when the thyroid is removed.

The gap between the bookshelf and the record cabinet grows smaller
with each new recording catalogue. There's more reading
and instruction to be heard on discs than ever before, although the spoken
rather than the sung word is as old as Thomas Alva Edison's
first experiment in recorded sound. Edison could hardly have guessed,
however, that Sophocles would one day appear in stereo. If
the record buyer's tastes are somewhat eclectic or even the slightest
bit esoteric, he will find them satisfied on educational records. And
he will avoid eye-strain in the process. Everything from poetry
to phonetics, history to histrionics, philosophy to party games
has been adapted to the turntable. For sheer ambition, take the
Decca series titled modestly "Wisdom". Volumes One and Two,
selected from the sound tracks of a television series, contain "conversations
with the elder wise men of our day". These sages
include poet Carl Sandburg, statesman Jawaharlal Nehru and sculptor
Jacques Lipchitz, in Volume One, and playwright Sean O'Casey,
David Ben-Gurion, philosopher Bertrand Russell and the late Frank
Lloyd Wright in the second set. Hugh Downs is heard interviewing
Wright, for an added prestige fillip. There's more specialization
and a narrower purpose in two albums recently issued by Dover
Publications. Dover "publishes" what the company calls "Listen
and Learn" productions designed to teach foreign languages.
Previous presentations have been on French, Spanish, Russian, Italian,
German and Japanese. But the firm has recognized the tight
dollar and the tourist's desire to visit the "smaller, less-traveled
and relatively inexpensive countries", and is now prepared to
teach modern Greek and Portuguese through recordings. The respective
vocabularies "essential for travel" are available in separate
albums. Thanks to Spoken Arts Records, history buffs may hear
Lincoln's "most memorable speeches and letters" in a two-disc
set, interpreted by Lincoln authority and lecturer Roy P& Basler.
As a comtemporary bonus, the set includes Carl Sandburg's address
at a joint session of Congress, delivered on Lincoln's birthday
two years ago. For those who "like poetry but never get
around to reading it", the Library of Congress makes it possible
for poets to be heard reading their own work. The program was instituted
in 1940, and releases are available only from the Recording Laboratory
of the Library of Congress, Washington 25, D& C& A catalogue
is available on request. Newest on the list are John
Ciardi, W& D& Snodgrass, I& A& Richards, Oscar Williams,
Robert Hillyer, John Hall Wheelock, Stephen Vincent Benet,
Edwin Muir, John Peal Bishop and Maxwell Bodenheim. Two poets
are paired on each record, in the order given above. Decca is
not the only large commercial company to impart instruction. ~RCA
Victor has an ambitious and useful project in a stereo series called
"Adventures in Music", which is an instructional record library
for elementary schools. Howard Mitchell and the National Symphony
perform in the first two releases, designed for grades one and two. Teaching
guides are included with each record.

In an effort to fortify himself against the unforseen upsets sure

to arise in the future, Herbert A& Leggett, banker-editor of
the Phoenix "Arizona Progress", reflects upon a few of the depressing
experiences of the feverish fifties. One of the roughest
was the
~TV quiz shows, which gave him inferiority complexes. Though
it was a great relief when the big brains on these shows turned out
to be frauds and phonies, it did irreparable damage to the ego of the
editor and many another intelligent, well-informed American.
But the one that upset the financially wise was the professional dancer
who related in a book how he parlayed his earnings into a $2,000,000
profit on the stock market. Every man who dabbles in the market to
make a little easy money on the side and suffers losses could at the time
hardly face his wife who was wondering how her husband could be so
dumb. Investors breathed more freely when it was learned that this acrobatic
dancer had turned magician and was only doing a best seller book
to make some dough. People who take us for suckers are like
the Westerner who had on exhibit his superior marksmanship in the form
of a number of bull's-eye achievements. The promoter who wanted
to sign him up for the circus asked him how he was able to do it. His
answer was simple but honest. He just shot at the board and then drew
circles around the holes to form a bull's-eye.

One of the obstacles to the easy control of a 2-year-old child

is a lack of verbal communication. The child understands no. He senses
his mother's disapproval. But explanations leave him confused and
unmoved. If his mother loves him, he clings to that love as
a ballast. It motivates his behavior. He wants Mommy to think him
a good boy. He doesn't want her to look frowningly at him, or speak
to him angrily. This breaks his heart. He wants to be called sweet,
good, considerate and mother's little helper. But even mother's
loving attitude will not always prevent misbehavior. His desires
are so strong that he needs constant reassurance of his mother's
love for him and what she expects of him, in order to overcome them.
His own inner voice, which should tell him what not to do, has not developed.
It won't develop until he has words with which to clothe it.
The conscience is non-existent in the 2-year-old. What can
a mother do then to prevent misbehavior? She can decrease the number
of temptations. She can remove all knick-knacks within reach. The
fewer nos she has to utter the more effective they will be. She
should offer substitutes for the temptations which seem overwhelmingly
desirable to the child. If he can't play with Mommy's magazines,
he should have some old numbers of his own. If Daddy's books
are out of bounds his own picture books are not. Toys he has can be
made to act as substitutes for family temptations such as refrigerator
and gas stove. During this precarious period of development the
mother should continue to influence the growth of the child's conscience.
She tells him of the consequences of his behavior. If he bites
a playmate she says, "Danny won't like you". If he snatches
a toy, she says, "Caroline wants her own truck just as you do".

There is no use trying to "Explain" to a 2-year-old. Actions

speak louder. Remove temptations. Remove the child from the scene
of his misbehavior. Substitute approved objects for forbidden ones
and keep telling him how he is to act. He won't submit to his natural
desires all the time, and it's Mother's love that is responsible
for his good behavior.

This is the period during the melancholy days of autumn when universities
and colleges schedule what they call "Homecoming Day".
They seek thereby to lure the old grad back to the old scenes.

The football opponent on homecoming is, of course, selected with

the view that said opponent will have little more chance than did a Christian
when thrown to one of the emperor's lions. It is true, of
course, the uncertainties of life being what they are, that as now and
then the Christian killed the lion, homecoming days have been ruined
by a visiting team. Even with all possible precaution, homecomings
are usually rather cruel and sad, and only the perpetually ebullient
and the continually optimistic are made happy by them. More
often than not, as the Old Grad wanders along the old paths, his
memory of happy days when he strolled one of the paths with a coed beside
him becomes an ache and a pain. He can smell again the perfume she
wore and recall the lilting sound of laughter, and can smell again the
aroma of autumn- fallen leaves, the wine of cool air, and the nostalgia
of woodsmoke which blows through all the winds of fall.

#UNDERGRADUATES#

It is at precisely such moments that he encounters a couple

of undergraduates, faces alight, holding hands and talking happily
as they come along, oblivious of him, or throwing him the most fleeting
and casual of glances, such as they would give a tethered goat. Usually,
they titter loudly after they have passed by. His dream
goes. He feels, suddenly, the weight of the fat that is on him. His
bridgework or his plates feel loose and monstrous. His bifocals blur.
His legs suddenly feel heavy and unaccountably weary, as if he had
walked for miles, instead of strolling a few hundred yards along the
old campus paths. Bitterness comes over him and the taste of time is
like unripe persimmons in his mouth. It is not much better if
he meets with old classmates. Too often, unless he hails them, they
pass him by. He recalls with a wry smile the wit who said, on returning
from a homecoming reunion, that he would never go again because all
his class had changed so much they didn't even recognize him.

If they do meet and recognize one another, slap backs and embrace,
the moment soon is done. After all, when one has asked whatever became
of old Joe and Charlie **h when one has inquired who it was Sue
Brown married and where it is they now live **h when questions are asked
and answered about families and children, and old professors **h when
the game and its probable outcome has been exhausted **h that does
it.

#MIDDLE-AGED SPREAD#

By then one begins to notice the middle-age

spread; the gray hairs, the eyeglasses, bodies that are too thin
or too heavy; the fading signs of old beauty; the athlete of by-gone
years who wears a size 46 suit and puffs
when he has finished a sentence
of any length **h then, it is time to break it up and move on.

It is, if anything, worse on the old player **h He sits

in the stands and he doesn't like that. Enough of his life was spent
there on the field for him never to like watching the game as a spectator
in the crowd. He always feels lonely. A team feels something.
On a team a man feels he is a part of it and akin to the men next
to him. In the stands he is lonely and lost, no matter how many are about
him. He sits there remembering the tense moment before the
ball was snapped; the churning of straining feet, the rasp of the
canvas pants; the smell and feel of hot, wet woolen sleeves across his
face. He remembers the desperate, panting breath; the long runs
on the kick-offs; the hard, jolting tackles; the breakthrough; the
desperate agony of goal-line stands. And so, he squirms with each
play, remembering his youth. But it is no use. It is gone.

No matter how often a man goes back to the scenes of his youth and
strength, they can never be recaptured again.

Since the obvious is not always true, the Republican National

Committee wisely analyzed its defeat of last autumn and finds that
it occurred, as suspected, in the larger cities. Of 40 cities
with populations of 300,000 and more, Mr& Kennedy carried 26 and Mr&
Nixon 14. There are eight states in which the largest urban vote
can be the balance of power in any close election. These are New
York, Pennsylvania, Michigan, Maryland, Missouri, New Jersey, Illinois
and Minnesota. In 1952 Mr& Eisenhower won all but Missouri.
Yet, in 1960 all eight gave majorities to Mr& Kennedy.

Republican research broke down the vote in Philadelphia. Mr& Nixon,

despite a very earnest effort to capture the minority groups, failed
to do so. His visit to Warsaw, Poland, after the Russian journey
in the summer of 1959 was expected to win the Polish vote which,
in several cities, is substantial. Yet, the ~GOP breakdown discovered
that in Philadelphia Mr& Nixon received but 21 per cent of
the so-called "Polish" vote; 30 per cent of the "Irish" vote,
and 18 per cent of the "Negro" vote. #'TASK FORCE'#

A ~GOP "task force' committee will seek to find out how its
party may win support from the ethnic and minority groups in cities.

The task force might make a start in Washington with Republican

congressional leaders. These gentlemen already have done the party
harm by their seeming reluctance to vote aid for the depressed areas
and by their criticism of Mr& Kennedy for talking about a recession
and unemployment. This error was compounded by declaring the recession
to be "a statistical one", and not a reality. The almost six
million persons without jobs and the two million working part-time do
not consider themselves and their plight as statistical. They did not
view the tour of the distressed cities and towns by Secretary of Labor
Goldberg as politics, which the ~GOP declared it to be. The
people visited were glad to have a government with heart enough to take
an interest in their misery. Senator Mundt's gross distortion
of President Eisenhower's conversation into a denunciation
of President Kennedy as too left wing, a statement Mr& Eisenhower
declared to be entirely false, is another case in point. If the Republicans
and Southern Democrats join to defeat medical care for the
old under the Social Security program, they will thereby erect still
another barrier to ~GOP hopes in the cities.

#ERRORS REPEATED#

The present Republican leadership as practiced by Mundt, Goldwater,

Bridges, Dirksen, et al, is repeating the errors of the party
leadership of the 1930s. In that decade the partisan zeal to defend Mr&
Hoover, and the party's failure to anticipate or cope with the
depression, caused a great majority of Americans to see the Republican
party as cold and lacking in any sympathy for the problems of human
beings caught up in the distress and suffering brought on by the economic
crash. The Republican party was not lacking in humanity,
but it permitted its extremely partisan leadership to make it appear
devoid of any consideration for people in trouble. Farmers called their
mule-drawn pickup trucks "Hoover carts". Smokers reduced to
"the makings", spoke of the sack tobacco as "Hoover dust".

One may be sure the present Republican congressional leadership

hasn't meant to repeat this error. But it is in the process of so
doing because it apparently gives priority to trying to downgrade John
F& Kennedy. That this is not good politics is underscored by the
latest poll figures which show that 72 per cent of the people like
the way in which the new President is conducting the nation's business.

The most articulate Republicans are those who, in their

desire to get back at Mr& Kennedy, already have created the image
of a Republican leadership which is reluctant to assist the distressed
and the unemployed, and which is even more unwilling to help old people
who need medical care. If they also defeat the school bill, the
~GOP task force won't have much research to do. It will early
know why the party won't win back city votes.

The 1962 General Assembly has important business to consider.

The tragedy is that it will not be able to transact that business in
any responsible manner. After the Griffin-Byrd political troup
has completed the circuit in November in the name of a Pre-Legislative
Forum, this is going to be the most politically oriented Legislature
in history. Every legislator from Brasstown Bald to
Folkston is going to have his every vote subjected to the closest scrutiny
as a test of his political allegiances, not his convictions.

Hoped-for legislative action on adjustment of the county unit system

stands less chance than ever. And just how far can the Legislature
go toward setting up a self-insurance system for the state in the
midst of a governor's race"? How unpartisan will be the
recommendations
of Lt& Gov& Garland Byrd's Senate Committee
on Government Operations? The situation already was bad because
the Legislature moved the governor's race forward a few months,
causing the campaigning to get started earlier than usual. But
when former Gov& Marvin Griffin and Lt& Gov& Byrd accepted
the invitations of the Georgia State Chamber of Commerce to join
the tour next November, the situation was aggravated. Neither
had a choice other than to accept the invitation. To have refused
would have been political suicide. And it may be that one or both men
actually welcomed the opportunity, when the bravado comments are cast
aside. The Georgia State Chamber of Commerce tried to guard
against the danger of eliminating potential candidates. It wanted
the State Democratic Executive Committee to pick the "serious
candidates". But State Party Chairman James Gray of Albany
said no, and he didn't mince any words. "They are just asking
too much", he said. We can't think of anyone else who would want
to separate serious candidates from other candidates, either.

There are other dangers: Politics is an accelerating game.

"If an opponent accuses you of lying, don't deny it. Say he is
a horse thief", runs an old adage. These men are spenders.
If either one ever started making promises, there is no telling where
the promises would end. Griffin's Rural Roads Authority and Byrd's
60,000 miles of county contracts would look like pauper's oaths.

The trouble is that at first glance the idea looks like such
a good one. Why not have them travel the state in November debating?
It would present a forum for them in almost every community.

But further thought brings the shuddery visions of a governor's

race being run in the next Legislature, the spectre of big spending
programs, the ooze of mudslinging before the campaign should even begin.
There isa way out of this. The Chamber has not arranged a pre-legislative
forum. It has arranged a campaign for governor. If
it will simply delay the debates until the qualifications are closed
next spring, and then carry all the candidates on a tour of debates,
it can provide a service to the state. But the Legislature should
be granted the opportunity to compelte its work before choosing
up sides for the race.

Former British Prime Minister Attlee says Eisenhower was

not a
"great soldier". Ike's somewhat like George Washington.
Both won a pretty fair-sized war with a modest assist from British strategy.

Congressmen returning from recess say the people admire

President Kennedy so much, they're even willing to heed his call
to sacrifice- and give up his program. Slogan of the John
Birch Society: "Paddle your own canoe. The guy who makes the
motor boats may be a Communist". A Republican survey says
Kennedy
won the '60 election on the religious issue. Too many people were
afraid if the ~GOP won, they'd have to spend all their time praying.

The Providence Journal editorial (Jan& 25) entitled "East

Greenwich Faces a Housing Development Problem" points to a
dilemma that faces communities such as ours. Your suggested solution,
it seems to me, is grossly oversimplified and is inconsistent with your
generally realistic attitude toward, and endorsement of, sound planning.

First of all there is ample area in East Greenwich already

zoned in the classification similar to that which petitioner requested.
This land is in various stages of development in several locations
throughout the town. The demand for these lots can be met for some
time to come. This would seem to indicate that we are trying neither
"to halt an influx of migrants" nor are we "setting up such standards
for development that only the well-to-do could afford to buy
land and build in the new sites". What we are attempting to
do is achieve and maintain a balance between medium density and low density
residential areas and industrial and commercial development. It
is in fact entirely consistent with your suggestion of modest industrial
development to help pay governmental costs. Bostitch, Inc& is
approximately half way through a 10-year exemption of their real estate
tax. The wisdom of granting such tax exemptions is another matter,
but this particular instance is, in my opinion, completely satisfactory.
The 1960 tax book for East Greenwich indicates a valuation for this
property in excess of two million dollars. With our current $3 per
hundred tax rate, it is safe to assume that this will qualify when you
suggest a community should "try to develop a modest industrial plant"
as the best way to meet these problems. In order to attract
additional industry that is compatible with this community it is
all the more important to present to the industrial prospect an orderly
balance in the tax structure. As this tax base grows so then can your
medium and low density residential areas grow. Mr& Richard Preston,
executive director of the New Hampshire State Planning and
Development Commission, in his remarks to the Governors Conference
on Industrial Development at Providence on October 8, 1960, warned
against the fallacy of attempting to attract industry solely to reduce
the tax rate or to underwrite municipal services such as schools when
he said: "If this is the fundamental reason for a community's
interest or if this is the basic approach, success if any will be difficult
to obtain". He went on to say: "In the first place, industry
per se is not dedicated to the role of savior of foundering municipalities.
It is not in business for the purpose of absorbing increased
municipal costs no matter how high a purpose that may be".

While Councilman Olson cited the anticipated increase in school

costs in answer to a direct question from a taxpayer, the impact upon
a school system does not have to be measured only in increased taxes
to find alarm in uncontrolled growth. We in East Greenwich have the
example of two neighboring communities, one currently utilizing double
sessions in their schools, and the other facing this prospect next year.
It has already been reported in your newspapers that the East Greenwich
School Committee is considering additions to at least one
elementary school and to the high school to insure future accommodations
for a school population that we know will increase. If they are to
be commended for foresight in their planning, what then is the judgment
of a town council that compounds this problem during the planning stage?
Where then is the sound planning and cooperation between agencies
within the community that you have called for in other editorials?
I submit that it cannot be dismissed simply by saying we are not
facing the facts of life. The "fruitful course" of metropolitanization
that you recommend is currently practiced by the town of
East Greenwich and had its inception long before we learned what it
was called. For example: _1._ The East Greenwich Police Department
utilizes the radio transmission facilities of the Warwick Police
Department, thereby eliminating duplication of facilities and
ensuring police coordination in the Cowessett-East Greenwich-Potowomut
area of the two communities. _2._ The East Greenwich
Fire District services parts of Warwick as well as East Greenwich.

_3._ The taxpayers of East Greenwich appropriate sums of money,

as do other Kent County communities, for the support of the Kent
County Memorial Hospital, a regional facility. _4._ The East
Greenwich Free Library receives financial support from the town of
East Greenwich and the City of Warwick to supplement its endowment.

_5._ Feelers were put out last year to the City of Warwick,
as reported in your newspapers, suggesting investigation of a common rubbish
disposal area to service the Potowomut and Cowessett areas of
Warwick along with East Greenwich. _6._ East Greenwich was one
of the first Rhode Island towns to enter into contract agreement with
the Rhode Island Development Council for planning services we
could not provide for ourselves. _7._ The education program for retarded
children conducted by the East Greenwich school system has pupils
from at least one neighboring community. I feel compelled
to write this because I am greatly concerned with the problem of community
growth rate and the relation between types of growth in a town
such as East Greenwich. I believe it is an area in which professional
planners have failed to set adequate guide posts; and yet they cannot
ignore this problem because it concerns the implementation of nearly
all the planning programs they have devised. These programs are
volumes of waste paper and lost hours if the citizens of a community must
stand aside while land developers tell them when, where, and in what
manner the community shall grow. We have far less to fear in the migrant
family than we have in the migrant developer under these conditions.

Until professional planners meet this situation squarely

and update the concepts of zoning in a manner acceptable to the courts,
I hope we in East Greenwich can continue to shape our own destiny.
@

I would like very much, on behalf of my husband and myself, to

send our eternal thanks to all the wonderful people responsible for the
Gabrielle Fund. It is indeed true, as stated in the famous
novel of our day, "For Whom the Bell Tolls", that "no man
is an island, entirely of itself; every man is a piece of the continent,
a part of the main". Thanks to the generosity of Mr&
Irving J& Fain, president of the Temple Beth El; Rev&
DeWitt Clemens, pastor of the Mathewson Street Methodist Church;
Mr& Felix Miranda, of the Imperial Knife Co&; and to Mrs&
Rozella Switzer, regional director of The National Conference
of Christians and Jews, who asked them to serve as a committee for
the fund. It is through them that we have become aware of the divine
humanity in man, and therefore, that most people are noble, helpful
and good. Bless you my friends, for it is through love and service
that brotherhood becomes a reality. @

I am a sophomore at Mount Pleasant High School. My future

plans are to become a language teacher. Of course, having this desire,
I am very interested in education. A few weeks ago, I read
in the Bulletin that there were to be given Chinese classes in Cranston.
The article also said that a person had to be 18 years old or
over, and must not be going to high school to attend these classes.

The following week, I read in the Sunday paper that the students
of Russia begin European and Asian languages in the seventh grade.

I wish you could see the situation as I see it. If Russian

pupils have to take these languages, how come American students have
a choice whether or not to take a language, but have to face so many
exceptions? I do not think that America is like Russia,
not in the least! I am proud of my country, the small city I live
in, my wonderful parents, my friends and my school; but I am also
a young, able and willing girl who wants to study the Chinese language
but is not old enough. Then people wonder why Russian pupils
are more advanced than American students. Well, there lies your answer.
@

At the height of the first snowstorm we had, it was impossible

for me to get medical attention needed during an emergency. However,
the East Providence Rescue Squad made its way through to my
home in time of desperation. Words cannot tell of the undivided
attention and comfort their service gave to me. The concern they
felt for me was such as I shall never forget and for which I will always
be grateful. The rescue squad is to be praised immensely
for the fine work they do in all kinds of weather. Had they not gotten
me to the hospital when they did, perhaps I would not be here to
commend them at this time. Many thanks for a job well
done. @

The Providence Sunday Journal article (Jan& 29) asking whether

American taxpayers are being victimized by a gigantic giveaway
to pay for the care of war veterans who have non-service-connected disabilities
sounds as though The Providence Journal is desperate for
news. Usually a veteran has to hang himself to get space on the front
page. On the question of admission to Veterans Administration
hospitals of service-connected and non-service-connected disabled
veterans, it must be recognized that there are many men who are greatly
affected by war service. It can manifest itself before discharge from
service, or it can come out years later. There is one other point
we should never lose sight of: Many veterans who enter ~VA hospitals
as non-service cases later qualify as service-connected. No psychiatrist
could tell me that the experience in a war can not have its
effect in the ensuing years. The arguments advanced by those individuals
and groups who oppose the system in force and who would drastically
curtail or do away entirely with hospital care for the non-service-connected
case, seem to be coldly impractical and out-of-step with
the wishes of the general public. I believe in priority for
service-connected disabled veterans in admission to ~VA hospitals.
But I don't believe we should close the door on nonservice-connected
patients. This matter is of great importance, and the outcome may
mean the difference between life or death, or at least serious injuries,
for many veterans. Some critics say that the length of stay
in a hospital is too long. There's a reason for this length of stay.
First of all, the admitting physician in the ~VA hospital gets
the patient as a new patient. He has no experience with this veteran's
previous medical record. If the doctor is conscientious, he wants
to study the patient. As a result, it takes a little longer than
it would on the outside where the family physician knows about the patient.

Secondly, the ~VA physician knows that when the patient

leaves the hospital, he is no longer going to have a chance to visit
his patient. So he keeps the veteran in until he can observe the effects
of treatment or surgery. The American public must be presented
with the facts concerning ~VA hospitalization. The public
should understand that whether they support a state hospital or a ~VA
hospital, the tax dollar has to be paid one way or the other. The
responsibility is still going to be there whether they pay for a ~VA
hospital or the tax dollar is spent for the state hospital. An
adequate system of ~VA hospitals is better equipped to care for the
veterans than any 50 state hospitals. @

It seems that open season upon veterans' hospitalization is

once more upon us. The American Medical Association is once again
grinding out its tear-soaked propaganda based upon the high cost of the
Veterans Administration medical program to the American taxpayer.
Do they, the A&M&A&, offer any solution other than outright
abolition of a medical system unsurpassed anywhere in the world?

We veterans acknowledge the fact that as time passes the demand

for medical care at ~VA hospitals will grow proportionately as age
fosters illness. Nevertheless, we wonder at the stand of the A&M&A&
on the health problem confronting the aged. They opposed
the Forand bill, which would have placed the major burden of financial
support upon the individual himself through compulsory payroll deduction;
yet they supported the Eisenhower administration which will
cost a small state like ours approximately five million dollars (matched
incidentally by a federal grant) to initiate.
#"A LOUSY JOB"#

_CHICAGO, AUG& 9_- No doubt there have

been moments during every Presidency when the man in the White House
has had feelings of frustration, exasperation, exhaustion, and even
panic. This we can sympathetically understand. But no President ever
before referred to his as a "lousy job" [as Walter Trohan recently
quoted President Kennedy as doing in conversation with Sen&
Barry Goldwater]. During his aggressive campaign to win
his present position, Mr& Kennedy was vitriolic about this country's
"prestige" abroad. What does he think a remark like this "lousy"
one does to our prestige and morale? If the President
of the United States really feels he won himself a "lousy job",
then heaven help us all. @

#QUESTIONS SHELTERS#

_EVANSVILLE,
IND&, AUG& 5_- Defense Secretary Robert S& McNamara
has asked Congress for authority and funds to build fallout shelters
costing about 200 million dollars. Why should Congress even consider
allowing such a sum for that which can give no protection?

Top scientists have warned that an area hit by an atomic missile of

massive power would be engulfed in a suffocating fire storm which would
persist for a long time. The scientists have also warned that no life
above ground or underground, sheltered or unsheltered could be expected
to survive in an area at least 50 miles in diameter. This
sum spent for foreign economic aid, the peace corps, food for peace,
or any other program to solve the problems of the underdeveloped countries
would be an investment that would pay off in world peace, increased
world trade, and prosperity for every country on the globe.
Let us prepare for peace, instead of for a war which would mean the
end of civilization. @

#SHORT SHORTS ON THE CAMPUS#

_CHICAGO,
AUG& 4_- It seems college isn't what it should be. I refer to
the attire worn by the students. Upon a visit to a local junior college
last week, I was shocked to see the young ladies wearing short shorts
and the young men wearing Bermuda shorts. Is this what
our children are to come face to face with when they are ready for college
in a few years?
Education should be uppermost in their minds, but
with this attire how can anyone think it is so? It looks more like
they are going to play at the beach instead of taking lessons on bettering
themselves. High school students have more sense of the
way to dress than college students. Many high school students go past
my house every day, and they look like perfect ladies and gentlemen.
No matter how hot the day, they are dressed properly and not in shorts.
@

#MASARYK AWARD#

_CHICAGO, AUG& 9_- The granting of

the Jan Masaryk award August 13 to Senator Paul Douglas is a bitter
example of misleading minorities. Douglas has consistently
voted to aid the people who killed Masaryk, and against principles
Masaryk died to uphold. Douglas has voted for aid to Communists and
for the destruction of individual freedom [public housing, foreign aid,
etc&]. @

#SUBSIDIES FROM ~CTA#

_OAK PARK, AUG&

8_- In today's "Voice", the ~CTA is urged to reduce fares
for senior citizens. Rising costs have increased the difficulties
of the elderly, and I would be the last to say they should not receive
consideration. But why is it the special responsibility of the ~CTA
to help these people? Why should ~CTA regular riders
subsidize reduced transportation for old people any more than the
people who drive their own cars or walk to work should? The welfare
of citizens, old and young, is the responsibility of the community,
not only of that part of it that rides the ~CTA. ~CTA regulars
already subsidize transportation for school children, policemen,
and firemen. @

#MARKETING MEAT#

_CHICAGO, AUG& 9_- In

reply to a letter in today's "voice" urging the sale of meat after
6 p& m&, I wish to state the other side of the story. I
am the wife of the owner of a small, independent meat market. My husband's
hours away from home for the past years have been from 7 a&
m& to 7 p& m& the early part of the week, and as late as 8 or
9 on week-ends. Now he is apparently expected to give up his evenings-
and Sundays, too, for this is coming. There is a trend to
packaging meat at a central source, freezing it, and shipping it to outlying
stores, where meat cutters will not be required. If a customer
wishes a special cut, it will not be available. We are slowly being
regimented to having everything packaged, whether we want it or not.

Most women, in this age of freezers, shop for the entire week
on week-ends, when prices are lower. Also, many working wives have children
or husbands who take over the shopping chores for them.
Independent market owners work six days a week; and my husband hasn't
had a vacation in 14 years. No, we are not greedy. But if we closed
the store for a vacation, we would lose our customers to the chain
stores in the next block. The meat cutters' union, which has
a history of being one of the fairest and least corrupt in our area,
represents the little corner markets as well as the large supermarkets.
What it is trying to do is to protect the little man, too, as well
as trying to maintain a flow of fresh meat to all stores, with choice
of cut being made by the consumer, not the store. @

#THE LEGION
CONVENTION AND SIDNEY HOLZMAN#

_CHICAGO, AUG& 9_- I, too,

congratulate the American Legion, of which I am proud to have been
a member for more than 40 years, on the recent state convention.

I regret that Bertha Madeira [today's "Voice"] obtained

incorrect information. Had I been granted the floor on a point of
personal privilege, the matter she raised would have been clarified.

The resolution under discussion at the convention was to require

the boards of election to instruct judges to properly display the
American flag. Judges under the jurisdiction of the Chicago board of
election commissioners are instructed to do this. The resolution
further asked that polling place proprietors affix an attachment
to their premises for the display of the flag. It was my desire
to advise the membership of the Legion that the majority of polling
places are on private property and, without an amendment to the law,
we could not enforce this. My discussion with reference to the resolution
was that we should commend those citizens who serve as judges of
election and who properly discharge their duty and polling place proprietors
who make available their private premises, and not by innuendo
criticize them. At no time did I attempt to seek approval or commendation
for the members of the Chicago board of election commissioners
for the discharge of their duties. @

#TEACHING THE HANDICAPPED#

_CHICAGO, AUG& 7_- The Illinois Commission for Handicapped

Children wishes to commend the recent announcement by the Catholic
charities of the archdiocese of Chicago and DePaul university of
the establishment of the Institute for Special Education at the university
for the training of teachers for physically handicapped and mentally
retarded children. In these days of serious shortage
of properly trained teachers qualified to teach physically handicapped
and mentally handicapped children, the establishment of such an institute
will be a major contribution to the field. The Illinois
Commission for Handicapped Children, which for 20 years has had the
responsibility of coo^rdinating the services of tax supported and voluntary
organizations serving handicapped children, of studying the
needs
of handicapped children in Illinois, and of promoting more adequate
services for them, indeed welcomes this new important resource which will
help the people of Illinois toward the goal of providing an education
for all of its children. @

#FROM CANDLELIGHT CLUB#

_MINNEAPOLIS,
AUG& 7_- I just want to let you know how much I enjoyed
your June 25 article on Liberace, and to thank you for it. Please
do put more pictures and articles in about Liberace, as he is truly
one of our greatest entertainers and a really wonderful person. @

#MORE SCHOOL, LESS PAY#

_CHICAGO, AUG& 7_- Is this,

perhaps,
one of the things that is wrong with our country? Engineering
graduates of Illinois Institute of Technology are reported receiving
the highest average starting salaries in the school's history-
$550 a month. My son, who has completed two years in engineering
school, has a summer job on a construction project as an unskilled
laborer. At a rate of $3.22 an hour he is now earning approximately
$580 a month. Ironic, is it not, that after completing years
of costly scientific training he will receive a cut in pay from what
he is receiving as an ordinary unskilled laborer? @

#THE DUPONT
CASE#

[<Editorial comment on this letter appears elsewhere on this

page>.] _WASHINGTON, AUG& 4_- Your July 26 editorial regarding
the position of Attorney General Robert F& Kennedy on prospective
tax relief for du Pont stockholders is based on an erroneous
statement of fact. As a result, your criticism of Attorney General
Robert F& Kennedy and the department of justice was inaccurate,
unwarranted and unfair. The editorial concerned legislative proposals
to ease the tax burden on du Pont stockholders, in connection
with the United States Supreme court ruling that du Pont must divest
itself of its extensive General Motors stock holdings. These proposals
would reduce the amount of tax that du Pont stockholders might
have to pay- from an estimated 1.1 billion dollars under present
law to as little as 192 million dollars. Congressman Wilbur D&
Mills, chairman of the House Ways and Means committee, asked
the department of justice for its views on these legislative proposals
as they related to anti-trust law enforcement. The attorney general
responded by letter dated July 19. Copies of this letter were made
avaliable to the press and public. In this letter, Mr& Kennedy
made it clear that he limited his comment only to one consideration-
what effect the legislative proposals might have on future anti-trust
judgments. There are a number of other considerations besides
this one but it is for the Congress, not the department of justice,
to balance these various considerations and make a judgment about legislation.

Yet your editorial said: "Now the attorney general

writes that no considerations 'justify any loss of revenue of this
proportion'". What Mr& Kennedy, in fact, wrote was: "It
is the department's view that no <anti-trust enforcement> considerations
justify any loss of revenue of this proportion". The
editorial, by omitting the words <anti-trust enforcement>, totally
distorted Mr& Kennedy's views. The headline is offensive, particularly
in view of the total inaccuracy of the editorial. @

#CONGRESSWOMAN
CHURCH#

_WILMETTE, AUG& 7_- I concur most heartily

with today's letter on the futility of writing to Sen& Dirksen
and Sen& Douglas. But when you write to Congresswoman
Church, bless her heart, your letter is answered fully and completely.
Should she disagree, she explains why in detail. When she agrees,
you can rest assured her position will remain unchanged. I think
we have the hardest working, best representative in Congress.

#HARMFUL
DRINKS#

_DOWNERS GROVE, AUG& 8_- A recent news story

reported that Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin delayed 103 airplane
passengers 10 minutes in London while they finished their drinks.

They do our country great harm by such actions. Those in the public
eye should be good examples of American citizens while abroad.

The plane should have started at the scheduled time and left Sinatra
and Martin to guzzle. @

#TOWARD SOCIALISM#

_PROVIDENCE,
AUG& 5_- Overt socialism means government ownership and management
of a nation's main industries. In covert socialism- toward
which America is moving- private enterprise retains the ownership
title to industries but government thru direct intervention and excessive
regulations actually controls them. In order to attract
new industries, 15 states or more are issuing tax free bonds to build
government owned plants which are leased to private enterprise. This
is a step toward overt socialism. Issuing bonds for plant construction
has brought new industries to certain regions.
#"WORKERS OF THE PARTY"#

_TO THE EDITOR:_ Sir- We are

writing in reference to a recent "suggestion" made to the staff
of the Public Health Nursing Service of Jersey City (registered
professional nurses with college background and varying experiences).
The day before Election Day, to which we are entitled as a legal holiday,
we were informed to report to our respective polls to work as "workers
of the party". Being ethical and professional people
interested in community health and well-being, we felt this wasn't
a function of our position. Such tactics reek of totalitarianism!
As we understand, this directive was given to all city and county employes.

To our knowledge no nurse in our agency has been employed

because of political affiliation. We, therefore, considered the "suggestion"
an insult to our intelligence, ethics, Bill of Rights,
etc&. Our only obligation for this day is to vote, free of persuasion,
for the person we feel is capable in directing the public.

This is our duty- not as nurses or city employes- but as citizens

of the United States. @ #"PLUS-ONE" SHELTERS#

_TO THE
EDITOR:_ Sir- I read of a man who felt he should not build
a fallout shelter in his home because it would be selfish for him to
sit secure while his neighbors had no shelters. Does this man live in
a neighborhood where all are free loaders unwilling to help themselves,
but ready to demand that "the community" help and protect them?

Community shelters are, of course, necessary for those

having
no space for shelter. If in a town of 2,000 private homes, half of
them have shelters, the need for the community shelters will be reduced
to that extent. In designing his home fallout shelter there
is nothing to prevent a man from planning to shelter that home's occupants,
"plus-one"- so he will be able to take in a stranger. I
hope the man who plans to sit on his hands until the emergency comes
will have a change of heart, will get busy and be the first member of
our "plus-one" shelter club. @

#ESCAPE#

_TO THE EDITOR:_

Sir- People continue to inquire the reason for the race for outer
space. It's simple enough from my point of view. I am for it.

It is the only method left for a man to escape from a woman's

world. @

#SUPPORTS KATANGA#

_TO THE EDITOR:_ Sir- When

the colonies decided upon freedom from England, we insisted, through
the Declaration of Independence, that the nations of the world recognize
us as a separate political entity. It is high time the United
States began to realize that the God-given rights of men set forth
in that document are applicable today to Katanga. In the United
Nations Charter, the right of self-determination is also an essential
principle. This, again, applies to Katanga. The people of Katanga
had fought for, and obtained, their freedom from the Communist
yoke of Antoine Gizenga, and his cohorts. By political, economic, geographic
and natural standards, they were justified in doing so.

The United States and the U&N& denounce their own principles
when they defend the Communist oppressors and refuse to acknowledge
the right of self-determination of the Katangans. @

#COUNTY
COLLEGE COSTS#

_TO THE EDITOR:_ Sir- Permit me to commend

your editorial in which you stress the fact that a program of county
colleges will substantially increase local tax burdens and that taxpayers
have a right to a clear idea of what such a program would commit
them to. The bill which passed the Assembly last May and
is now pending in the Senate should be given careful scrutiny. The procedure
for determining the amounts of money to be spent by county colleges
and raised by taxation will certainly startle many taxpayers.

Under the proposal the members of the board of trustees of a county

college will be appointed; none will be elected. The trustees
will prepare an annual budget for the college and submit it to the board
of school estimate. This board will consist of two of the trustees
of the college, and the director and two members of the board of freeholders.
It will determine the amount of money to be spent by the college
and will certify this amount to the board of freeholders, which "shall
appropriate in the same manner as other appropriations are made
by it the amount so certified and the amount shall be assessed, levied
and collected in the same manner as moneys appropriated for other purposes".

The approval of only three members of the board of

school estimate is required to certify the amount of money to be allotted
to the college. Since two of these could be trustees of the college,
actually it would be necessary to have the consent of only one elected
official to impose a levy of millions of dollars of tax revenue.
This is taxation without representation. @

#TAXING IMPROVEMENTS#

_TO THE EDITOR:_ Sir- Your editorial,

"Housing Speedup", is certainly not the answer to our slum problems.
The very rules and regulations in every city are the primary
case of slum conditions. Change our taxing law so that no tax
shall be charged to any owner for additions or improvements to his properties.
Then see what a boom in all trades, as well as slum clearance
at no cost to taxpayers, will happen. Our entire economy will have
a terrific uplift. @ #"NATURAL CAUSES"#

_TO THE EDITOR:_

Sir- An old man is kicked to death by muggers. The medical examiner
states that death was due to "natural causes". I once
heard a comedian say that if you are killed by a taxicab in New York,
it is listed as "death due to natural causes". @

#PRAISES
EXHIBIT#

_TO THE EDITOR:_ Sir- Every resident of this city

should visit the Newark Museum and see the exhibit "Our Changing
Skyline in Newark". It will be at the museum until March 30.

It is a revelation of what has been done, what is being done

and what will be done in Newark as shown by architects' plans, models
and pictures. It shows what a beautiful city Newark will become and
certainly make every Newarker proud of this city. It should
also make him desire to participate actively in civic, school and religious
life of the community so that that phase of Newark will live
up to the challenge presented by this exhibit. @

#PARKWAY COURTESY#

_TO THE EDITOR:_ Sir- I hasten to join in praise of the

men in the toll booths on the Garden State Parkway. Recently I traveled
the parkway from East Orange to Cape May and I found the most
courteous group of men you will find anywhere. One even gave my little
dog a biscuit. It was very refreshing. @
#"DEEP PEEP SHOW"#

The viewers of the "deep Peep Show"

at 15th and ~M streets nw& have an added attraction- the view
of a fossilized cypress swamp. Twenty feet below the street level
in the excavation of the new motel to be constructed on this site, a black
coal-like deposit has been encountered. This is a black swamp
clay in which about one hundred million years ago cypress-like trees
were growing. The fossilized remains of many of these trees are found
embedded in the clay. Some of the stumps are as much as three feet
long, but most of them have been flattened by the pressure of the overlying
sediments. Although the wood has been changed to coal, much
of it still retains its original cell structure. In the clay are
entombed millions of pollen grains and spores which came from plants
growing in the region at the time. These microfossils indicate the
swamp was "formed during the Lower Cretaceous period when dinosaurs
were at their heyday and when the first flowering plants were just appearing.

The 15th Street deposit is not to be confused with

the nearby famous Mayflower Hotel cypress swamp on 17th Street reported
in <The Washington Post>, August 2, 1955, which was probably
formed during the second interglacial period and is therefore much younger.
@

#WORKING FOR PEACE#

Recently the secretary of the Friends

Committee on National Legislation was interviewed on the air.
While I respect his sincere concern for peace, he made four points
that I would like to question. _1._ He said, "Let's work for
peace instead of protection from aggression". I would ask, "Why
not do both"? Military power does not cause war; war is the result
of mistrust and lack of understanding between people. Are we not
late, especially those of us who call ourselves Friends, in doing enough
about this lack of understanding? _2._ As to protection,
the speaker disapproved of shelters, pointing out that fallout shelters
would not save everyone. Is this a reason for saving no one? Would
the man with an empty life boat row away from a shipwreck because his
boat could not pick up everyone? _3._ The speaker suggested
that the desolation of a post-attack world would be too awful to face.
If the world comes to this, wouldn't it be the very time when courage
and American know-how would be needed to help survivors rebuild?
Many of our young people think it would. _4._ Lastly, the speaker
decried our organized program of emergency help calling it "Civilian
Defense". In 1950, Public Law 920 created Civil Defense
(different from Civilian-groups of World War /2,), a responsibility
of the Government at all levels to help reduce loss of life and property
in disaster, natural or manmade. Far from creating fear,
as the speaker suggests, preparedness- knowing what to do in an emergency-
gives people confidence. Civil Defense has far to go and
many problems to solve, but is it not in the best spirit of our pioneer
tradition to be not only willing, but prepared to care for our own families
and help our neighbors in any disaster- storm, flood, accident
or even war? @

#PETS IN APARTMENTS#

It seems rather peculiar

that residents of apartments are denied the right of providing themselves
with the protection and companionship of dogs. I feel that few
burglars would be prone to break and enter into someone's apartment
if they were met with a good hardy growl that a dog would provide. In
addition, would not the young female public of Washington be afforded
a greater degree of protection at night when they are on the streets
if they were accompanied by a dog on a leash? I grant that
the dog may not be really protective, based on his training, but if you
were roaming the streets looking for a purse to snatch or a young lady
to molest, how quick would you be to attack a person strolling with
a dog? I would like to suggest that the landlords and Commissioners
get together and consider liberalizing the practice of prohibiting
dogs in apartments. @

#SIDEWALK CAFES#

Use the terraces of the

Capitol for a sidewalk cafe? Could Senator Humphrey be serious
in his proposal? Is nothing in this country more sacred than the tourists'
comfort? Perhaps the idea of sidewalk cafes could
be extended. The Lincoln and Jefferson Memorials are rather bleak.
Why not put a cafe in each so the tourists would not have to travel
too far to eat? Unfortunately the cafes might not make enough money
to support themselves during the off season. As an added suggestion
to balance the budget, the Government could sell advertising space
on the Washington Monument. It is visible throughout the city, and
men from Madison ave& would jump at the chance. @ #@#

Sen&
Hubert Humphrey is obviously a man with a soul and heart. He, like
most of us, wants to be able to sit, to contemplate and be moved by
the great outdoors. Let us have more benches and fewer forbidden areas
around fountains and gardens. Let us, like the French, have outdoor
cafes where we may relax, converse at leisure and enjoy the passing
crowd. @

#DISSENTING VIEWS OF SENATORS#

Two strong dissents from

the majority report of the Joint Economic Committee (May 2) by
Senators Proxmire and Butler allege that the New Deal fiscal policy
of the Thirties did not work.

#FOR A NEUTRAL GERMANY#

@ _SOVIETS SAID TO FEAR RESURGENCE OF

GERMAN MILITARISM_ @ _TO THE EDITOR OF THE NEW YORK TIMES:_
For the first time in history the entire world is dominated by two large,
powerful nations armed with murderous nuclear weapons that make conventional
warfare of the past a nullity. The United States and Soviet
Russia have enough nuclear weapons to destroy all nations. Recent
statements
by well-known scientists regarding the destructive power
of the newest nuclear bombs and the deadly fall-outs should be sufficient
to still the voices of those who advocate nuclear warfare instead
of negotiations. President Kennedy was right when he said, "We
shall never negotiate out of fear and we never shall fear to negotiate".
I have just returned from a seven-week trip to Europe and
the Far East. It is quite evident that the people of Western Europe
are overwhelmingly opposed to participation in a nuclear war. The
fact is that the Italians, French and British know that they have
no defense against nuclear bombs. We have no right to criticize them,
as they realize they would be sitting ducks in a nuclear war.
We should stand firmly and courageously for our right to free access
into Berlin. It would be criminal folly if the Communists tried to
prevent us. But there is nothing we can do to stop Soviet Russia from
granting de facto recognition to East Germany. Soviet Russia has
been invaded twice by German troops in a generation. In the last war
Russia lost more than ten million killed and its lands and factories
were devastated. _PROBABLE AGREEMENT_ The truth is that Communist
Russia fears the resurgence of German militarism. Berlin is merely
being used by Moscow as a stalking horse. Actually, the
Communists,
out of fear of a united and armed Germany, would probably be willing
to agree to a disarmed Germany that would be united and neutral
and have its independence guaranteed by the U& N&. If
the Communists are sincere in wanting a united, neutral and disarmed
Germany, it might well be advantageous for the German people in this
nuclear age. It could provide security without cost of armaments and
increase German prosperity and lessen taxation. France and other Western
European nations likewise fear a rearmed Germany. If the German
people favor such a settlement we should not oppose Germany following
the example of Austria. President Kennedy has urged a
peace race on disarmament that might be called "Operation Survival"
which has many facets. Why not make a beginning with a united and
disarmed Germany whose neutrality and immunity from nuclear bombing
would be guaranteed by the Big Four powers and the United States?
A united Germany, freed of militarism, might be the first step toward
disarmament and peace in a terrorized and tortured world. @

#MEETING
U& N& OBLIGATIONS#

_TO THE EDITOR OF THE NEW YORK

TIMES:_ In your editorial of Sept& 30 "The Smoldering Congo"
you make the following comment: "Far too many states are following
the Russian example in refusing to pay their assessments. It
is up to the Assembly to take action against them. They are violating
their Charter obligation, the prescribed penalty for which is suspension
of membership or expulsion". I would like to quote from
the Charter of the United Nations: "Article 17, Section
1: The General Assembly shall consider and approve the budget
of the Organization. "Section 2: The expenses of the
Organization shall be borne by the Members as apportioned by the General
Assembly. "Article 19: A Member of the United Nations
which is in arrears in the payment of its financial contributions
to the Organization shall have no vote in the General Assembly if
the amount of its arrears equals or exceeds the amount of the contributions
due from it for the preceding two full years". The U&
S& S& R& and her followers are careful in paying their obligations
to the regular budget. But they refuse, as do the Arab states,
to support the United Nations' expenses of maintaining the United
Nations Emergency Force in the Middle East as a buffer between
Egypt and Israel, and the U& N& troops in the Congo, which
expenses are not covered by the regular budget of the United Nations,
but by a special budget. According to the official interpretation
of the Charter, a member cannot be penalized by not having the
right to vote in the General Assembly for nonpayment of financial
obligations to the "special" United Nations' budgets, and of
course cannot be expelled from the Organization (which you suggested
in your editorial), due to the fact that there is no provision in the
Charter for expulsion. @

#TO AID INTERNATIONAL LAW#

@ _CONNALLY
AMENDMENT'S REPEAL HELD STEP TOWARD WORLD ORDER_ @ _TO THE
EDITOR OF THE NEW YORK TIMES:_ In your Sept& 27 editorial appraisal
of the work of the First Session of the Eighty-seventh Congress
you referred to the lack of "consciousness of destiny in a time
of acute national and world peril". Yet your list of things left
undone did not include repeal of the Connally amendment to this country's
domestic jurisdiction reservation to its Adherence to the Statute
of the International Court of Justice. The Connally
amendment says that the United States, rather than the court, shall
determine whether a matter is essentially within the domestic jurisdiction
of the United States in a case before the World Court to which
the United States is a party. If the case is thus determined by us
to be domestic, the court has no jurisdiction. Since the Connally
amendment has the effect of giving the same right to the other
party to a dispute with the United States, it also prevents us from
using the court effectively. Yet although the Kennedy Administration,
and the Eisenhower Administration before it, have both declared themselves
solidly for repeal of the Connally amendment, as contrary to
our best interests, no action has yet been taken. Our "destiny"
in these perilous times should be to lead strongly in the pursuit
of peace, with justice, under law. To achieve this destiny, acts
as well as words are needed- not only acts that lead to physical strength
but also acts that lead to strength based on right doing and respect.

What better affirmative step could be taken to this end

than repeal of the Connally amendment- an act which could expose
the
United States to no practical risk yet would put an end to our self-judging
attitude toward the court, enable us to utilize it, and advance
in a tangible way the cause of international law and order?

We believe that the list of vital things left undone to date by the
Eighty-seventh Congress should have included repeal by the Senate
of the Connally amendment. @

#FOR BETTER SUBWAY SERVICES#

_TO
THE EDITOR OF THE NEW YORK TIMES:_ Many home-bound subway riders
utilizing the Flushing-Main Street express are daily confronted with
the sight of the local departing from the Woodside station as their
express comes to a stop, leaving them stranded and strained. To the
tens of thousands who must transfer to ride to Seventy-fourth Street
and change for the ~IND, this takes a daily toll of time and temper.

The Transit Authority has recently placed in operation

"hold" lights at ~BMT Thirty-ninth and Fifty-ninth Street
stations in Brooklyn. This "holds" the local until the express
passengers change trains. Without question, this time and temper saver
should be immediately installed at the Woodside station. @

#PHONE
SERVICE CRITICIZED#

_TO THE EDITOR OF THE NEW YORK TIMES:_

As a business man I have to use the telephone constantly, from three
to four hours a day. In the last few years the telephone company
has managed to automate many areas of their service. It has not
been any great mental effort on my part to keep up with this mechanization
which has brought about new ways of dialing. However, there
are still several types of calls that necessitate the use of telephone
operators. I have been absolutely shocked at the ineptness of the
young ladies who are servicing person-to-person calls, special long-distance
calls, etc&. Either it is lack of training, lack of proper
screening when hiring, lack of management or possibly lack of interest
on the part of the telephone company, which does have a Government-blessed
monopoly.

#FAIR-PRICED FUNERAL#

_TO THE EDITOR:_ I disagree with the

writer who says funeral services should be government-controlled.
The funeral
for my husband was just what I wanted and I paid a fair price, far
less than I had expected to pay. But the hospitals and doctors should
be. @

#HELPING RETARDED CHILDREN#

_TO THE EDITOR:_ Recently

I visited the very remarkable Pilgrim School for retarded children.

Hazel Park donates its recreation center, five days a

week, to the school. There is no charge and no state aid. Kiwanis,
American Legion and other groups donate small sums and the mothers do
what they can to bring in dollars for its support. There are
70 children there and the mothers donate one day a week to the school.
Reading, writing and simple arithmetic are taught along with such crafts
as working in brass. They make beautiful objects. Enough
trading stamps were collected to buy a 12-passenger station wagon. Southfield
schools furnish an old 45-passenger bus (the heater in which
needs repair since some of the children ride a long distance and need
the heat). The school is located at 9-1/2 Mile road, Woodward
Heights. Visitors are welcome to come see what these dedicated
mothers can do. @
#JOBS FOR CAVANAGH#

_TO THE EDITOR:_ I

was surprised at Mayor Miriani's defeat, but perhaps Mayor-elect
Cavanagh can accomplish some things that should have been done years
ago. Maybe he can clean out the white elephants in some of the city
departments such as welfare, ~DPW and sanitation. Negligence in
garbage and rubbish collections and alley cleaning is great. He
should put the police back to patrolling and walking the streets at
night. There should be better bus service and all of our city departments
and their various branches need a general and complete overhauling.

Our litterbug ordinances are not enforced and I have yet to

read of a conviction in a littering case. Drunken truck drivers
in the city departments should be weeded out. Educate the city employes
to give real service to the public. After all, they are paid by
the public, they should be examples. @

#CHURCH FINDS NEWS FEATURES

ARE HELPFUL#

_TO THE EDITOR:_ At a recent meeting of the Women's

Association of the Trumbull Ave& United Presbyterian
Church, considerable use was made of material from The Detroit News
on the King James version of the New Testament versus the New English
Bible. Some members of the organization called attention
also to the article on hymns of inspiration, the Daily Prayer and
Three Minutes a Day, as being very helpful. We feel that
The Detroit News is to be complimented upon arranging for articles
on these subjects and we hope that it will continue to provide material
along wholesome lines. @

#RUDE YOUNGSTERS#

_TO THE EDITOR:_

Thank you for the article by George Sokolsky on the public apathy
to impudence. How old do you have to be to remember when Americans,
especially children, were encouraged to be polite? Why has
this form of gentility gone out of American life? How can
we old-fashioned parents, who still feel that adults are due some respect
from children, battle the new type of advertising that appears on
~TV without denying the children the use of television entirely?
Writers of ads must get their inspiration from the attitude of "modern"
parents they have observed. From necessity, they are also inspired
by the "hard-sell" attitude of the sponsor, so, finally, it
is the sponsor who must take the responsibility for the good or bad taste
of his advertising. @

#DUNES PARK ADVOCATE#

_TO THE EDITOR:_

I commend Senator Hart for his brave fight to establish a national
park in the dunes area.

#GHOST TOWN?#
_TO THE EDITOR OF THE INQUIRER:_ I just wish
to
congratulate Inspector Trimmer and his efficient police troops in
cleaning the city of those horrible automobiles. We have now a quiet
city, fewer automobiles, less congestion, and fewer retail customers shopping
in center city. Good for Mr& Trimmer. Maybe he will help
to turn our fair city into a "ghost" town. @

#DEFENDS BIG TRUCKS#

_TO THE EDITOR OF THE INQUIRER:_ I worked on the Schuylkill

Expressway and if it had not been for the big trucks carrying rock
and concrete there wouldn't be an Expressway. Without these massive
trucks highways would still be just an idea of the future.
Mr& George Hough (Oct& 30) sounds like a business man who waits
until the last minute to leave his home or shop. The trucks today
help pay for this highway. They try to keep within the speed limits.
Although today's trucks are as fast as passenger cars, a truck driver
has to be a sensible person and guard against hogging the road. @

#OUT OF SCHOOL AT 14#

_TO THE EDITOR OF THE INQUIRER:_ The

letter writer who suggested saving money by taking kids out of school
at 14 should have signed his letter "SIMPLETON" instead of
"SIMPLICITUDE". Such kids only wind up among the unemployed
on relief or in jail where they become a much bigger burden. There are
lots of jobs available for trained high school graduates, but not for
the dropouts. What we need is more vocational training in high schools,
not more dropouts. @

#TWO WRONGS#

_TO THE EDITOR OF THE

INQUIRER:_ I suppose I am missing some elementary point but I honestly
cannot see how two wrongs can make a right! I am referring
to this country conducting atmosphere tests of nuclear bombs just because
Russia is. Will our bombs be cleaner or will their fallout be less
harmful to future generations of children? If an atom bomb in 1945
could destroy an entire city surely the atomic arsenal we now have
is more than adequate to fulfill any military objective required of it.

As I see it, if war starts and we survive the initial attack

enough to be able to fight back, the nuclear weapons we now have-
at least the bombs- can inflict all the demage that is necessary. Why
do we need bigger and better bombs? I repeat, two wrongs do not
make a right. @ #'WE TREMBLE NOT'#

_TO THE EDITOR OF THE INQUIRER:_

Everyone should take time to read Martin Luther's Hymn
"A Mighty Fortress Is Our God". Especially the
first half of the third verse: @ @
#OUT OF THE RACE#

_TO
THE EDITOR OF THE INQUIRER:_ To our everlasting shame, we led the
world in this nuclear arms race sixteen years ago when we dropped the
first bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Having led the world
in this mad race I pray that we may have the wisdom and courage to lead
it out of the race. Are we to be the master of the atom, or
will the atom be our master- and destroy us! @

#WHY TRUST JAGAN?#

_TO THE EDITOR OF THE INQUIRER:_ Just because Cheddi

Jagan, new boss of British Guiana, was educated in the United States
is no reason to think he isn't a Red. We have quite a few home-grown
specimens of our own. If we go all gooey over this newest Castro
(until he proves he isn't) we've got rocks in our heads. How
many times must we get burned before we learn? @

#RUSSIA AND U&N&#

_TO THE EDITOR OF THE INQUIRER:_ Just to remind the Communists

that the bombs dropped on Japan were to end a war not start
one. The war could have continued many years with many thousands killed
on both sides. Intelligent people will admit that bombs and rockets
of destruction are frightening whether they fall on Japan, London
or Pearl Harbor. That is why the United Nations was formed so that
intelligent men with good intentions from all countries could meet
and solve problems without resorting to war. Russia has showed
its intentions by exploding bombs in peace time to try to frighten the
world. Why aren't the Soviets expelled from the U&N&? @

#BELATED TRIBUTE#

_TO THE EDITOR OF THE INQUIRER:_ While

"better late than never" may have certain merits, the posthumous
award of the Nobel Prize for Peace to the late Dag Hammarskjold
strikes me as less than a satisfactory expression of appreciation. Had
it been bestowed while the Secretary General of the United Nations
was living, unquestionably he would have been greatly encouraged in
pursuing a difficult and, in many ways, thankless task. According
to one report, however, Mr& Hammarskjold was considered "too
controversial" a figure to warrant bestowal of the coveted honor last
spring. Actually, of course, that label "controversial" applied
only because he was carrying out the mandate given him by the world
organization he headed rather than following the dictates of the Soviet
Union. At Khrushchev's door, therefore, can be placed
the primary blame but also at fault are those who permitted themselves
to be intimidated. It is well for us to remember that a wreath on a
coffin never can atone for flowers withheld while they still can be enjoyed.
As has happened so often in the past, the ability to recognize
true greatness has been inadequate and tardy. @ #'PEOPLE TO PEOPLE'#

_TO THE EDITOR OF THE INQUIRER:_ Just a brief note of

appreciation to Vice President Johnson and Pakistani camel driver
Bashir Ahmad for providing a first-class example of "people to people"
good will. If only this could be done more often- with such
heartening results- many of the earth's "big problems" would
shrink to the insignificances they really are. P& S&. Thanks
for your good coverage of Ahmad's visit, too! @

#EXPRESSWAY
ANSWER: EAST RIVER DRIVE#

_TO THE EDITOR OF THE INQUIRER:_

Your continuing editorials concerning the Schuylkill Expressway
are valuable; however, several pertinent considerations deserve recognition.

One of the problems associated with the expressway

stems from the basic idea. We shuffle a large percentage of the cars
across the river twice. They start on the East side of the Schuylkill,
have to cross over to the West to use the expressway and cross over
again to the East at their destination. Bridges, tunnels and ferries
are the most common methods of river crossings. Each one of these
is, by its nature, a focal point or a point of natural congestion. We
should avoid these congestion points or, putting it another way, keep
cars starting and ending on the East side of the river- on the East
side. This can be accomplished by several logical steps:
_(1)_ Widen the East River Drive at least one lane. _(2)_
So widen it as to minimize the present curves and eliminate drainage
problems. _(3)_ Paint continuous lane stripes and install overhead
directional lights as on our bridges. One additional lane would then
be directional with the traffic burden and effectively increase the
traffic carrying capability of the East River Drive by fifty percent.
_(4)_ This could be accomplished without the tremendous expenditures
necessitated by the Schuylkill Expressway and without destroying
the natural beauty of the East River Drive. @

#SHADOW OVER
WASHINGTON SQUARE#

_TO THE EDITOR OF THE INQUIRER:_ I wish

to advocate two drastic changes in Washington Square: _1._ Take
away George Washington's statue. _2._ Replace it with the
statue of one or another of the world's famous dictators. There's
no sense in being reminded of times that were. Washington Square seems
not part of a free land. It may remind one of Russia, China or
East Berlin; but it can't remind one of the freedom that Washington
and the Continental soldiers fought for. The Fairmount
Park Commission will no doubt approve my two proposals, because it
is responsible for the change of ideological atmosphere in the Square.
The matter may seem a small thing to some people, I know, but it's
a very good start on the road to Totalitarianism **h The Commission
has posted signs in Washington Square saying: {The
Feeding of Birds is Prohibited in This Square.} <Fairmount
Park Commission> Does each tentacle of the octopus of
City Government reach out and lash at whatever it dislikes or considers
an annoyance? If birds don't belong in a Square or Park, what
does? They are the most beautiful part of that little piece of Nature.
The trees are their homes; but the Commission does not share
such sentiments. The whole official City apparently has an
intense hatred toward birds. Starlings and blackbirds are scared off
by cannon, from City Hall. Just a preliminary measure. If any are
left, presently, we may expect to see signs specifically {PROHIBITING}
the feeding of them too. The City Government is not
united in an all-out, to-the-death drive to stamp out gangs, delinquents,
thugs, murderers, rapists, subversives. Indeed no. Let every
policeman and park guard keep his eye on John and Jane Doe, lest one
piece of bread be placed undetected and one bird survive. Of
course, in this small way of forcing the people to watch as tiny and
innocent and dependent creatures die because we're afraid to feed them
and afraid to protest and say "How come? What's your motive?
{WHO} wants this deed done"?- in this small way do
the leaders of a city, or of a nation, iniure the masses to watching,
or even inflicting, torture and death, upon even their fellow men.

One means to help the birds occurs to me: Let the chimes that
ring over Washington Square twice daily, discontinue any piece of music
but one. Let them offer on behalf of those creatures whose melody
has been the joy of mankind since time began, the hymn "Abide With
Me". We will know, and He will know, to whom it is rendered, what
the birds would ask: @ @

#NOT PUSH-UPS BUT STAND-UPS#

_TO
THE EDITOR OF THE INQUIRER:_ There is a trend today to bemoan
the fact that Americans are too "soft". Unfortunately, those who
would remedy our "softness" seek to do so with calisthenics. They
are working on the wrong part of our anatomy. It is not our bodies
but our hearts and heads that have grown too soft. Ashamed of our wealth
and power, afraid of so-called world opinion and addicted to peace,
we have allowed our soft-heartedness to lead to soft-headed policies.

When we become firm enough to stand for those ideals which

we know to be right, when we become hard enough to refuse to aid nations
which do not permit self-determination, when we become strong enough
to resist any more drifts towards socialism in our own Nation, when
we recognize that our enemy is Communism not war, and when we realize
that concessions to Communists do not insure peace or freedom, then,
and only then will we no longer be "soft". America doesn't need
to "push-up", she needs to stand up! @

#DISPUTES STANS COLUMN BUSINESS SCANDAL VIEWS#

_TO THE EDITOR:_

The new column by Maurice Stans regarding business scandals, is
fair and accurate in most respects and his solution to the problem has
some merit. However, he states unequivocally "the scandals in business
are far less significant than the scandals in labor". I must,
in fairness, take issue with his premise, primarily because the so-called
scandals in labor unions were very much connected with business scandals.

The area most prominently commented on during the McClellan

hearings had to do with "sweetheart contracts". These arrangements
would have been impossible if the business community was truly
interested in the welfare of its employes. A sweetheart arrangement
can come about as often by employers doing the corrupting as by unscrupulous
labor leaders demanding tribute. Anyone familiar with the details
of the McClellan hearings must at once realize that the sweetheart
arrangements augmented employer profits far more than they augmented
the earnings of the corruptible labor leaders. Further, it
should be recalled that some very definite steps were taken by Congress
to combat corruption in the labor movement by its passage of the
Landrum-Griffin Act.

#ESCALATION UNTO DEATH#

The nuclear war is already being fought,

except that the bombs are not being dropped on enemy targets- not yet.
It is being fought, moreover, in fairly close correspondence with
the predictions of the soothsayers of the think factories. They predicted
escalation, and escalation is what we are getting. The biggest nuclear
device the United States has exploded measured some 15 megatons,
although our ~B-52s are said to be carrying two 20-megaton bombs
apiece. Some time ago, however, Mr& Khrushchev decided that when
bigger bombs were made, the Soviet Union would make them. He seems
to have at least a few 30- and 50-megaton bombs on hand, since we cannot
assume that he has exploded his entire stock. And now, of course,
the hue and cry for counter-escalation is being raised on our side.
Khrushchev threatens us with a 100-megaton bomb? So be it- then
we must embark on a crash program for 200-megaton bombs of the common
or hydrogen variety, and neutron bombs, which do not exist but are said
to be the coming thing. So escalation proceeds, ad infinitum or, more
accurately, until the contestants begin dropping them on each other
instead of on their respective proving grounds. What is needed,
Philip Morrison writes in <The Cornell Daily Sun> (October
26) is a discontinuity. The escalation must end sometime, and probably
quite soon. "Only a discontinuity can end it", Professor Morrison
writes. "The discontinuity can either be that of war to destruction,
or that of diplomatic policy". Morrison points out
that since our country is more urbanized than the Soviet Union or Red
China, it is the most vulnerable of the great powers- Europe of
course must be written off out of hand. He feels, therefore, that to
seek a discontinuity in the arms policy of the United States is the
least risky path our government can take. His proposal is opposed to
that of Richard Nixon, Governor Rockefeller, past chairmen Strauss
and McCone of the Atomic Energy Commission, Dr& Edward Teller
and those others now enjoying their hour of triumph in the exacerbation
of the cold war. These gentlemen are calling for a resumption
of testing- in the atmosphere- on the greatest possible scale, all
in the name of national security. Escalation is their first love and
their last; they will be faithful unto death. Capable as their
minds may be in some directions, these guardians of the nation's
security are incapable of learning, or even of observing. If this capacity
had not failed them, they would see that their enemy has made a
disastrous miscalculation. He has gained only one thing- he has exploded
a 50-megaton bomb and he probably has rockets with sufficient thrust
to lob it over the shorter intercontinental ranges. But if his
purpose was to inspire terror, his action could hardly have miscarried
more obviously. Not terror, but anger and resentment have been the
general
reaction outside the Soviet sphere. Khrushchev himself is
reported to be concerned by the surge of animosity he has aroused, yet
our own nuclear statesmen seem intent on following compulsively in his
footsteps. When one powerful nation strives to emulate the success
of another, it is only natural. Thus, when the Russians sent up their
first sputnik, American chagrin was human enough, and American determination
to put American satellites into orbit was perfectly understandable.
But to imitate an opponent when he has made the mistake of
his life would be a new high in statesmanlike folly.

#THE TIDE TURNS#

When East Germans fled to the West by the thousands, paeans of

joy rose from the throats of Western publicists. They are less vocal
now, when it is the West Berliners who are migrating. The flood
is not as great- only 700 a week according to one apparently conservative
account- but it is symptomatic. West Berlin morale is low and,
in age distribution, the situation is unfavorable. Nearly 18 per cent
of West Berlin's 2,200,000 residents are sixty-five or older,
only 12.8 per cent are under fifteen. R& H& S& Crossman,
M&P&, writing in <The Manchester Guardian>, states that
departures from West Berlin are now running at the rate not of 700,
but of 1,700 a week, and applications to leave have risen to 1,900 a
week. The official statistics show that 60 per cent are employed workers
or independent professional people. Whole families are moving and
removal firms are booked for months ahead. The weekly loss is partly
counterbalanced by 500 arrivals each week from West Germany, but the
hard truth, says Crossman, is that "The closing off of East Berlin
without interference from the West and with the use only of East
German, as distinct from Russian, troops was a major Communist victory,
which dealt West Berlin a deadly, possibly a fatal, blow. The
gallant half-city is dying on its feet". Another piece of
evidence appears in a dispatch from Bonn in the <Observer> (London).
Mark Arnold-Foster writes: "People are leaving [West Berlin]
because they think it is dying. They are leaving so fast that
the president of the West German Employers' Federation issued an
appeal this week to factory workers in the West to volunteer for six
months' front-line work in factories in West Berlin. Berlin's
resilience is amazing, but if it has to hire its labor in the West the
struggle will be hard indeed". The handwriting is on the wall.
The only hope for West Berlin lies in a compromise which will
bring down the wall and reunite the city. State Department officials
refusing to show their passes at the boundary, and driving two blocks
into East Berlin under military escort, will not avail. Tanks lined
up at the border will be no more helpful. The materials for compromise
are at hand: <The Nation>, Walter Lippmann and other sober
commentators (see Alan Clark on p& 367) have spelled them out again
and again. A compromise will leave both sides without the glow of
triumph, but it will save Berlin. Or the city can be a graveyard monument
to Western intransigence, if that is what the West wants.

#VACANCY#

The removal of Stalin's body from the mausoleum he shared

with Lenin to less distinguished quarters in the Kremlin wall is not
unprecedented in history. It is, in fact, a relatively mild chastisement
of the dead. A British writer, Richard Haestier, in a book,
<Dead Men Tell Tales>, recalls that in the turmoil preceding
the French Revolution the body of Henry /4,, who had died nearly
180 years earlier, was torn to pieces by a mob. And in England, after
the Restoration, the body of Cromwell was disinterred and hanged at
Tyburn. The head was then fixed on a pole at Westminster, and the
rest of the body was buried under the gallows. Contemplating
these posthumous punishments, Stalin should not lose all hope. In 1899,
Parliament erected a statue to Cromwell in Westminster, facing
Whitehall and there, presumably, he still stands. Nikita Khrushchev,
however, has created yet another problem for himself. The Lenin tomb
is obviously adequate for double occupancy, Moscow is a crowded city,
and the creed of communism deplores waste. Who will take Stalin's
place beside Lenin? There is Karl Marx, of course, buried in
London.
The Macmillan government might be willing to let him go, but he has
been dead seventy-eight years and even the Soviet morticians could
not make him look presentable. Who, then, is of sufficient stature to
lodge with Lenin? Who but Nikita himself? Since he has just
shown who is top dog, he may not be ready to receive this highest honor
in the gift of the Soviet people. Besides, he can hardly avoid musing
on the instability of death which, what with exhumations and rehabilitations,
seems to match that of life. Suppose he did lie beside Lenin,
would it be permanent? If some future Khrushchev decided to
rake up the misdeeds of his revered predecessor, would not the factory
workers pass the same resolutions applauding his dispossession? When
a man is laid to rest, he is entitled to stay put. If Nikita buys
a small plot in some modest rural cemetery, everyone will understand.

#U THANT OF BURMA#

The appointment of U Thant of Burma as the

U&N&'s Acting Secretary General- at this writing, the choice
appears to be certain- offers further proof that in politics
it is more important to have no influential enemies than to have influential
friends. Mongi Slim of Tunisia and Frederick Boland of Ireland
were early
favorites in the running, but France didn't like the
former and the Soviet Union would have none of the latter. With the
neutralists maintaining pressure for one of their own to succeed
Mr&
Hammarskjold, U Thant emerged as the only possible candidate unlikely
to be waylaid by a veto. What is interesting is that his positive
qualifications for the post were revealed only as a kind of tail to
his candidacy. In all the bitter in-fighting, the squabbles over election
procedures, the complicated numbers game that East and West played
on the assistant secretaries' theme, the gentleman from Burma showed
himself both as a man of principle and a skilled diplomat. He has,
moreover, another qualification which augurs well for the future.
He is a Buddhist, which means that to him peace and the sanctity of
human life are not only religious dogma, but a profound and unshakable
<Weltanschauung>. U Thant of course, will hold office until
the spring of 1963, when Mr& Hammarskjold's term would have come
to an end. Whether the compromises- on both sides- that made
possible the interim appointment can then be repeated remains to be seen.
Mr& Khrushchev's demand for a <troika> is dormant, not dead;
the West may or not remain satisfied with the kind of neutralism
that U Thant represents. In a sense, the showdown promised by Mr&
Hammarskjold's sudden and tragic death has been avoided; no precedents
have been set as yet; structurally, the U&N& is still
fluid, vulnerable to the pressures that its new and enlarged membership
are bringing to bear upon it. But at least the pessimists who believed
that the world organization had plunged to its death in that plane
crash in the Congo have been proved wrong.

#TO THE HILLS, GIRLS#

No one who has studied the radical Right can suppose that words are
their sole staple in trade. These are mentalities which crave action-
and they are beginning to get it, as Messrs& Salsich and Engh
report on page 372. Even in areas where political connotations are
(deliberately?) left vague, the spirit of vigilantism is spreading.
<Friends>, a picture magazine distributed by Chevrolet dealers, describes
a paramilitary organization of employees of the Gulf Telephone
Company at Foley, Alabama. "If the day should ever come that
foreign invaders swarm ashore along the Gulf Coast", the account reads,
"they can count on heavy opposition from a group of commando-trained
telephone employees- all girls. **h Heavily armed and mobilized
as a fast-moving Civil Defense outfit, 23 operators and office
personnel **h stand ready to move into action at a minute's notice".
According to <Friends>, the unit was organized by John Snook,
a former World War /2, commando who is vice president and general
manager of the telephone company. The girls, very fetching in their
uniforms, are shown firing rockets from a launcher mounted on a dump truck;
they are also trained with carbines, automatic weapons, pistols,
rifles and other such ladies' accessories. This may be <opera
bouffe> now, but it will become more serious should the cold war
mount in frenzy. The country is committed to the doctrine of security
by military means. The doctrine has never worked; it is not working
now. The official military establishment can only threaten to use
its nuclear arms; it cannot bring them into actual play. A more dangerous
formula for national frustration cannot be imagined. As the civic
temper rises, the more naive citizens begin to play soldier- but
the guns are real. Soon they will begin to hunt down the traitors they
are assured are in our midst.
All false gods resemble Moloch, at least in the early phases of their
careers, so it would be unreasonable to expect any form of idol-worship
to become widespread without the accompaniment of human sacrifice.
But there is reason in all things, and in this country the heathenish
cult of the motor-car is exceeding all bounds in its demands. The annual
butchery of 40,000 American men, women and children to satiate
its blood-lust is excessive; a quota of 25,000 a year would be more
than sufficient. No other popular idol is accorded even that much
grace. If the railroads, for example, regularly slaughtered 25,000
passengers each year, the high priests of the cult would have cause
to tremble for their personal safety, for such a holocaust would excite
demands for the hanging of every railroad president in the United States.
But by comparison with the railroad, the motor car is a relatively
new object of popular worship, so it is too much to hope that it
may be brought within the bounds of civilized usage quickly and easily.

Yet it is plainly time to make a start, and to be effective

the first move should be highly dramatic, without being fanatical. Here,
then, is what Swift would have called a modest proposal by way of
a beginning. From next New Year's Day let us keep careful account
of each successive fatality on the highways, publicizing it on all
media of communication. To avoid suspicion of bigotry, let the hand
of vengeance be stayed until the meat-wagon has picked up the twenty-five
thousandth corpse; but let the twenty-five thousand and first butchery
be the signal for the arrest of the 50 state highway commissioners.

Then let the whole lot be hanged in a public mass execution

on July 4, 1963. The scene, of course, should be nine miles northwest
of Centralia, Illinois, the geographical center of population according
to the census. A special grandstand, protected by awnings from
the midsummer sun of Illinois, should be erected for occupancy by
honored guests, who should include the ambassadors of all those new African
nations as yet not quite convinced that the United States is
thoroughly civilized. The band should play the Rogues' March as a
processional, switching to "Hail Columbia, Happy Land"! as
the trap is sprung. Independence Day is the appropriate date
as a symbolical reminder of the American article of faith that governments
are instituted among men to secure to them certain inalienable
rights, the first of which is life, and when any government becomes subversive
of that end, it is the right of the people to alter or abolish
it. The highway system is an agency of government, and when it grinds
up 40,000 Americans every year the government is destroying its own
taxpayers, which is obviously a silly thing for any government to do.

Hanging the responsible officials would not abolish the government,

but would emphasize its accountability for the lives of its individual
citizens, which would certainly alter it, and definitely for
the better. Moreover, the salubrious effects would not be exclusively
political, but at least partially, and perhaps primarily social. It
would challenge sharply not the cult of the motor car itself but some
of its ancillary beliefs and practices- for instance, the doctrine
that the fulfillment of life consists in proceeding from hither to yon,
not for any advantage to be gained by arrival but merely to avoid the
cardinal sin of stasis, or, as it is generally termed, staying put.

True, the adherents of staying put are now reduced to a minor,

even a miniscule sect, and their credo, "Home-keeping hearts are
happiest", is as disreputable as Socinianism. Nonetheless, although
few in number they are a stubborn crew, as tenacious of life as the
Hardshell Baptists, which suggests that there is some kind of vital
principle embodied in their faith. Perhaps there is more truth than we
are wont to admit in the conviction of that ornament of Tarheelia,
Robert Ruark's grandfather, who was persuaded that the great curse
of the modern world is "all this gallivantin'". In any
event, the yearly sacrifice of 40,000 victims is a hecatomb too large
to be justified by the most ardent faith. Somehow our contemporary Moloch
must be induced to see reason. Since appeals to morality, to humanity,
and to sanity have had such small effect, perhaps our last recourse
is the deterrent example. If we make it established custom that
whenever butchery on the highways grows excessive, say beyond 25,000
<per annum>, then <somebody> is going to hang, it follows that the
more eminent the victim, the more impressive the lesson. To hang 50
Governors might be preferable except that they are not directly related
to the highways; so, all things considered, the highway commissioners
would seem to be elected.
As the new clouds of radioactive fallout spread silently and invisibly
around the earth, the Soviet Union stands guilty of a monstrous crime
against the human race. But the guilt is shared by the United States,
Britain and France, the other members of the atomic club. Until
Moscow resumed nuclear testing last September 1, the ~US and
~UK had released more than twice as much radiation into the atmosphere
as the Russians, and the fallout from the earlier blasts is still
coming down. As it descends, the concentration of radioactivity builds
up in the human body; for a dose of radiation is not like a flu
virus which causes temporary discomfort and then dies. The effect of
radiation is cumulative over the years- and on to succeeding generations.
So, while we properly inveigh against the new poisoning, history
is not likely to justify the pose of righteousness which some in the
West were so quick to assume when Mr& Khrushchev made his cynical
and irresponsible threat. Shock, dismay and foreboding for future
generations were legitimate reactions; a holier-than-thou sermon was
not. On October 19, after the Soviets had detonated at least
20 nuclear devices, Ambassador Stevenson warned the ~UN General
Assembly that this country, in "self protection", might have
to resume above-ground tests. More recently, the chairman of the Atomic
Energy Commission, Dr& Glenn T& Seaborg, "admitted"
to a news conference in Las Vegas, Nevada, that the ~US might
fall behind Russia (he apparently meant in weapons development) if the
Soviets continue to test in the atmosphere while we abstain. The
trial balloons are afloat. All of which makes it more imperative
than ever that the biological and genetic effects of fallout be understood.
But for the average citizen, unfortunately, this is one of science's
worst-marked channels, full of tricky currents and unknown
depths. The scientists, in and out of government, do not agree on some
of the most vital points, at least publicly. On the one hand, the Public
Health Service declared as recently as October 26 that present
radiation levels resulting from the Soviet shots "do not warrant
undue public concern" or any action to limit the intake of radioactive
substances by individuals or large population groups anywhere in the
~US. But the ~PHS conceded that the new radioactive particles
"will add to the risk of genetic effects in succeeding generations,
and possibly to the risk of health damage to some people in the United
States". Then it added: "It is not possible to determine
how extensive these ill effects will be- nor how many people will
be affected". Having hedged its bets in this way, ~PHS
apparently decided it would be possible to make some sort of determination
after all: "At present radiation levels, and even at somewhat
higher levels, the additional risk is slight and very few people will
be affected". Then, to conclude on an indeterminate note: "Nevertheless,
if fallout increased substantially, or remained high for
a long time, it would become far more important as a potential health
hazard in this country and throughout the world". Dr& Linus
Pauling, a Nobel Prize winner in chemistry, has been less ambiguous,
whether you choose to agree with him or not. After declaring, in
an article last month in <Frontier> magazine, that the Russian testing
"carries with it the possibility of the most tragic consequences
of any action in the history of the world", he gave this estimate
of the biologic and genetic consequences if the new Soviet shots totaled
200 megatons: The damage to human germ plasm would be
such that in the next few generations 160,000 children around the world
would be born with gross physical or mental defects. Long-lived carbon-14
from the fusion process would cause four million embryonic, neonatal
or childhood deaths and stillbirths over the next 20 generations,
and between 200,000 and one million human beings now living would have
their lives cut short by radiation-produced diseases such as leukemia.
Most of these would be in the Northern Hemisphere, where the fallout
is concentrating. Pauling's estimate of 200 megatons yield from
the present series of Russian tests will probably turn out to be
too high, but a total of 100 megatons is a distinct possibility.

The lack of scientific unanimity on the effects of radiation is due

in part to insufficient data covering large population groups, from
which agreed-on generalizations could be drawn. But more than one conscientious
researcher has been inhibited from completely frank discussion
of the available evidence by the less excusable fact that fallout
has been made a political issue as well as a scientific problem. Its
dangerous effects have been downgraded to the public by some who believe
national security requires further testing. An illustration of this
attitude is found in John A& McCone's letter to Dr& Thomas
Lauritsen, reported in a note elsewhere in this issue of <The New
Republic>. To this day the Atomic Energy Commission shies
away from discussing the health aspects of fallout. A recent study
on radiation exposure by the ~AEC's division of biology and
medicine stated: "The question of the biological effect **h of [radiation]
doses is not considered" herein. Of course, the ~AEC
is in a bind now. If it comes down too hard on the potential dangers
of fallout, it will box the President on resuming atmospheric tests.
So the Commission's announcements of the new Soviet shots have
been confined to one or two bleak sentences, with the fission yield usually
left vague. Now, of course, that the Russians are the
nuclear villains, radiation is a nastier word than it was in the mid-1950s,
when the ~US was testing in the atmosphere. The prevailing
official attitude then seemed to be that fallout, if not exactly good
for you, might not be much worse than a bad cold. After a nuclear blast,
one bureaucrat suggested in those halcyon days, about all you had
to do was haul out the broom and sweep off your sidewalks and roof. Things
aren't that simple anymore. Yet if Washington gets too indignant
about Soviet fallout, it will have to do a lot of fast footwork
if America decides it too must start pushing up the radiation count.

#HOW MUCH FALLOUT WILL WE GET?#

As of October 25, the ~AEC

had reported 24 shots in the new Soviet series, 12 of them in a megaton
range, including a super bomb with a yield of 30 to 50 megatons
(the equivalent of 30 million to 50 million tons of ~TNT); and
President Kennedy indicated there were one or two more than those reported.

Assuming the lower figure for the big blast and one shot
estimated by the Japanese at 10 megatons, a conservative computation
is that the 24 announced tests produced a total yield of at least 60
megatons. Some government scientists say privately that the figure
probably is closer to 80 megatons, and that the full 50-megaton bomb
that Khrushchev mentioned may still be detonated. If the new
Soviet series has followed the general pattern of previous Russian
tests, the shots were roughly half fission and half fusion, meaning a
fission yield of 30 to 40 megatons thus far. To this must be added the
90 to 92 megatons of fission yield produced between the dawn of the
atomic age in 1945 and the informal three-power test moratorium that
began in November, 1958.

#RESUMING ATMOSPHERIC TESTS#

ONE OF THE inescapable realities

of the Cold War is that is has thrust upon the West a wholly new
and historically unique set of moral dilemmas. The first dilemma was
the morality of nuclear warfare itself. That dilemma is as much with
us as ever. The second great dilemma has been the morality of nuclear
testing, a dilemma which has suddenly become acute because of the present
series of Soviet tests. When this second dilemma first
became
obvious- during the mid to late '50's- the United States
appeared to have three choices. It could have unilaterally abandoned
further testing on the grounds of the radiation hazard to future generations.
It could have continued testing to the full on the grounds
that the radiation danger was far less than the danger of Communist
world domination. Or it could have chosen to find- by negotiation-
some way of stopping the tests without loss to national security. This
third choice was in fact made. With the resumption of Soviet
testing and their intransigence at the Geneva talks, however, the
hope that this third choice would prove viable has been shaken. Once
again, the United States must choose. And once again, the
choices
are much the same. Only this time around the conditions are different
and the choice is far harder. The first choice, abandoning tests
entirely, would not only be unpopular domestically, but would surely
be exploited by the Russians. The second choice, full testing, has
become even more risky just because the current Soviet tests have
already dangerously contaminated the atmosphere. The third choice, negotiation,
presupposes, as Russian behavior demonstrates, a great deal
of wishful thinking to make it appear reasonable. We take the
position, however, that the third choice still remains the only sane
one open to us. It is by no stretch of the imagination a happy choice
and the arguments against it as a practical strategy are formidable.
Its primary advantage is that it is a moral choice; one which, should
it fail, will not have contaminated the conscience. That is the
contamination we most fear. ##

LEAVING ASIDE the choice of unilateral

cessation of tests as neither sane nor clearly moral, the question
must arise as to why resumption of atmospheric tests on our part
would not be a good choice. For that is the one an increasingly large
number of prominent Americans are now proposing. In particular, Governor
Nelson Rockefeller has expressed as cogently and clearly as
anyone the case for a resumption of atmospheric tests. Speaking
recently in Miami, Governor Rockefeller said that "to assure
the sufficiency of our own weapons in the face of the recent Soviet
tests, we are now clearly compelled to conduct our own nuclear tests".
Taking account of the fact that such a move on our part would be
unpopular in world opinion, he argued that the responsibility of the United
States is "to do, confidently and firmly, not what is popular,
but what is right". What was missing in the Governor's
argument, as in so many similar arguments, was a premise which would
enable one to make the ethical leap from what might be militarily desirable
to what is right. The possibility, as he asserted, that the Russians
may get ahead of us or come closer to us because of their tests
does not supply the needed ethical premise- unless, of course, we have
unwittingly become so brutalized that nuclear superiority is now taken
as a moral demand. Besides the lack of an adequate ethical
dimension to the Governor's case, one can ask seriously whether our
lead over the Russians in quality and quantity of nuclear weapons
is so slight as to make the tests absolutely necessary. Recent statements
by the President and Defense Department spokesmen have, to the
contrary, assured us that our lead is very great. Unless the Administration
and the Defense Department have been deceiving us, the facts
do not support the assertion that we are "compelled" to resume atmospheric
testing. It is perfectly conceivable that a resumption
of atmospheric tests may, at some point in the future, be necessary
and even justifiable. But a resumption does not seem justifiable now.
What we need to realize is that the increasingly great contamination
of the atmosphere by the Soviet tests has radically increased our
own moral obligations. We now have to think not only of our national
security but also of the future generations who will suffer from any tests
we might undertake. This is an ethical demand which cannot be evaded
or glossed over by talking exclusively of weapon superiority or even
of the evil of Communism. Too often in the past Russian
tactics have been used to justify like tactics on our part. There ought
to be a point beyond which we will not allow ourselves to go regardless
of what Russia does. The refusal to resume atmospheric testing
would be a good start.

#ECUMENICAL HOPES#

WHEN HIS Holiness

Pope John /23, first called for an Ecumenical Council, and at the
same time voiced his yearning for Christian unity, the enthusiasm
among Catholic and Protestant ecumenicists was immediate. With good
reason it appeared that a new day was upon divided Christendom. But
as the more concrete plans for the work of the Council gradually became
known, there was a rather sharp and abrupt disappointment on all sides.
The Council we now know will concern itself directly only with
the internal affairs of the Church. As it has turned out, however,
the excessive enthusiasm in the first instance and the loss of
hope in the second were both wrong responses. Two things have happened
in recent months to bring the Council into perspective: each provides
a basis for renewed hope and joy. First of all, it is now
known that Pope John sees the renewal and purification of the Church
as an absolutely necessary step toward Christian unity. Far from
being irrelevant to the ecumenical task, the Pontiff believes that a
revivified Church is required in order that the whole world may see Catholicism
in the best possible light. Equally significant, Pope John
has said that Catholics themselves bear some responsibility for Christian
disunity. A major aim of the Council will be to remove as
far as possible whatever in the Church today stands in the way of unity.

Secondly, a whole series of addresses and actions by the

Pope and by others show that concern for Christian unity is still very
much alive and growing within the Church. The establishment, by the
Holy Father, of a permanent Secretariat for Christian Unity in
1960 was the most dramatic mark of this concern. The designation of
five Catholic theologians to attend the World Council of Churches
assembly in New Delhi as "official" observers reverses the Church's
earlier stand. The public appeal by the new Vatican Secretary
of State, Cardinal Cicognani, for renewed efforts toward Eastern
and Western reunion was still another remarkable act. Nor can one
forget Pope John's unprecedented meeting with the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Augustin Cardinal Bea, the director of the Secretariate

for Christian Unity, has expressed as directly as anyone the
new spirit that pervades the Church's stance toward the Protestant
and Orthodox Churches. Noting all the difficulties that stand in
the way of reunion, he has said that they ought not to discourage anyone.
For discouragement, or the temptation to abandon our efforts, "would
show that one placed excessive trust in purely human means without
thinking of the omnipotence of God, the irresistible efficacy of
prayer, the action of Christ or the power of the Divine Spirit".
Can any Christian fail to respond to these words?

#THE BUDGET DEFICIT#

THE ADMINISTRATION'S official budget review, which estimates

a 6.9 billion dollar deficit for the current fiscal year, isn't
making anyone happy. Certainly it isn't making the President happy,
and he has been doing his apologetic best to explain how the budget
got into its unbalanced condition, how he intends to economize wherever
he can and how he hopes to do better next year. We sympathize
with Mr& Kennedy, but we feel bound to say that his budget review
doesn't please us either, although for very different reasons.
Furthermore, we find his defense of the unbalanced budget more dismaying
than reassuring. In the first place, a large part of the
discrepancy between President Eisenhower's estimate of a 1.5 billion
dollar surplus for the same period and the new estimate of an almost
seven billion dollar deficit is the result of the outgoing President's
farewell gift of a political booby-trap to his successor. The Eisenhower
budget was simultaneously inadequate in its provisions and
yet extravagant in its projections of revenue to be received. The
rest of the deficit is also easily understood. Four billion dollars
of the spending increase is for defense, an expenditure necessitated
by the penny-wise policies of the Eisenhhower Administration, quite
apart from the recent crises in Berlin and elsewhere. Four hundred
million dollars of the increase is for the expanded space program, a
responsibility similarly neglected by Mr& Eisenhower. The farm program
will cost an additional 1.5 billion, because of unusual weather
factors, the Food for Peace program and other new measures. Anti-recession
programs- aid for the unemployed, their children and for depressed
areas- account for only 900 million of the 6.9 billion dollar
deficit. Our complaint is that in many crucial areas the Kennedy
programs are not too large but too small, most seriously in regard
to the conventional arms build-up and in aid and welfare measures.
And yet Mr& Kennedy persists in trying to mollify the intransigents
of the right with apologies and promises of "tightening up" and
"economizing". We wish the President would remember that "fiscal
responsibility" was the battle-cry of the party that lost the election.
The party that won used to say something about a New Frontier.

#ETHICS AND PEACE#

INTRODUCTION of the "dialogue" principle

proved strikingly effective at the thirty-fourth annual meeting
of the Catholic Association for International Peace in Washington
the last weekend in October. Two of the principal addresses were delivered
by prominent Protestants, and when the speaker was a Catholic,
one "discussant" on the dais tended to be of another religious
persuasion. Several effects were immediately evident. Sessions
devoted to "Ethics and Foreign Policy Trends", "Moral Principle
and Political Judgment", "Christian Ethics in the Cold
War" and related subjects proved to be much livelier under this
procedure than if Catholics were merely talking to themselves. Usually
questions from the floor were directed to the non-Catholic speaker
or discussion leader. In the earlier sessions there was plentiful
discussion on the natural law, which Dr& William V& O'Brien
of Georgetown University, advanced as the basis for widely acceptable
ethical judgments on foreign policy. That Aristotelean-Thomistic
principle experienced a thorough going-over from a number of the
participants, but in the end the concept came to reassert itself. Speakers
declared that Protestants often make use of it, if, perhaps,
by some other name. A Lebanese Moslem told about its existence and
application in the Islamic tradition as the "divine law", while a
C&A&I&P& member who has been working in close association
with delegates of the new U&N& nations told of its widespread recognition
on the African continent. The impression was unmistakable
that, whatever one may choose to call it, natural law is a functioning
generality with a certain objective existence. Another question
that arose was the nature of the dialogue itself. The stimulus from
the confrontation of philosophical systems involving certain differences
was undeniable. It was expected that the comparison of different
approaches to ethics would produce a better grasp of each other's
positions and better comprehension of one's own. But a realization
that each group has much of substance to learn from the other also developed,
and a strong conviction grew that each had insights and dimensions
to contribute to ethically acceptable solutions of urgent political
issues. One effect of the spirited give-and-take of these
discussions was to focus attention on practical applications and the necessity
of being armed with the facts: knowledge of the destructive
force of even the tiniest "tactical" atomic weapon would have a bearing
on judgments as to the advisability of its use- to defend Berlin,
for example; the pervasive influence of ideology on our political
judgments needs to be recognized and taken into due account; it
is necessary to perceive the extent of foreign aid demanded by the Christian
imperative.
Everywhere I went in Formosa I asked the same question. I was searching
for an accent of self-delusion or, even, of hypocrisy. I never
found it among any of the Chinese with whom I spoke, though granted
they were, almost all, members of the official family who, presumably,
harbor official thoughts. But I questioned, also, professional soldiers,
who would not easily be hypnotized by a septuagenarian's dreamy
irredentism. Their answer was: it can be done, and we will do it.
And then I put the question as pointedly as I could directly to Chiang
Kai-shek: "In America", I said, "practically no one
believes that you subjectively intend to re-enter the Mainland. What
evidence is there of an objective kind that in fact your government
proposes to do just that, and that it can be done"? He smiled.
(He always smiles- at least at visitors, I gather. He smiled
also at a British bloke seated next to me, who asked the most asinine
questions. I recalled sympathetically the Duke's complaint in Browning's
"My Last Duchess". **h) He smiled, and said a word
or two to the interpreter, who turned to me, "The President wonders
where you are going after you leave Taipei"? That, I smarted,
is a royal rebuff if ever there was one. I answered the routine
question about my itinerary, rather coolly. Chiang spoke again,
this
time at greater length. "The President says", the translator
came in, "that the reason he asked you where you were going is because
he hoped you would be visiting other areas in Southeast Asia, and
that everywhere you went, you would seek the answer to your question.
He says that if he were to express to you, once again, his own profound
determination to go to the Mainland, and his faith that that return
is feasible, he would merely sound redundant. So you yourself must
seek these objective data, and come to your own conclusions. Any information
we have here in Taiwan is at your disposal". Fair
enough. What are the relevant data? For every person on Taiwan, there
are sixty in Mainland China. If the raw population figures are
crucially relevant, then it is idle to think of liberation, as idle as
to suppose that Poland might liberate Russia. Relative military manpower?
Less than 60-1, but at least 6-1. The estimates vary widely
on the strength of the Chinese army. Say four million. The armed
forces of Taiwan are at a working strength of about 450,000, though
a reserve potential twice that high is contemplated. Skill? Training?
Morale? It is generally conceded that the Formosan air force
is the best by far in Asia, and the army the best trained. The morale
is very high. Even so, it adds up to impossible odds, except
that the question arises, On whose side would the Mainland Chinese
army fight? The miserable people of China, the largest cast
ever conscripted to enact an ideological passion play, cannot themselves
resist overtly. They think, perforce, of physical survival:
everything else is secondary. But the army which Mao continues to feed
well, where are its sympathies? The psychological strategists in
Taiwan stress the great sense of family, cultivated in China over
thousands of years. It has not been extirpated by ten years of Communist
depersonalization. Every soldier in the army has, somewhere, relatives
who are close to starvation. The soldiers themselves cannot stage
a successful rebellion, it is assumed: but will their discontent
spread to the officer class? The immediate families of the generals
and the admirals are well fed: a despot does not economize on his
generals. But there are the cousins and aunts and nephews. Their privations
are almost beyond endurance. In behalf of what? Leninism-Marxism,
as understood by Exegete Mao. To whom will the generals stay
loyal? There is little doubt if they had a secret ballot, they
would vote for food for their family, in place of ideological purity out
on the farm. It is another question whether "they"- or a single
general, off in a corner of China, secure for a few (galvanizing?)
days at least from instant retaliation- will defy the Party. But
the disposition to rebel is most definitely there. ##

But there
must be a catalytic pressure. The military in Taiwan believe that
the Communists have made two mistakes, which, together, may prove fatal.
The first was the commune program, which will ensure agricultural
poverty for years. The family is largely broken up; and where it
is not, it is left with no residue, and the social meaning of this is
enormous. For it is the family that, in China, has always provided social
security for the indigent, the sick, the down-and-out members of
the clan. Now the government must do that; but the government is
left with no reserve granary, under the agricultural system it has ordained.
Thus the government simultaneously undertook the vast burden of
social security which had traditionally been privately discharged, and
created a national scarcity which has engendered calamitous problems
of social security. The second mistake is Tibet. Tibet has
historically served China as a buffer state. A friendly state, sometimes
only semi-independent, but never hostile. China never tried to
integrate Tibet by extirpating the people's religion and institutions.
Red China is trying to do this, and she is not likely ever to succeed.
Tibet is too vast, the terrain is too difficult. Tibet may bleed
China as Algeria is bleeding France. These continuing
pressures, social, economic and military, are doing much to keep China
in a heightening state of tension. The imposition of yet another pressure,
a strong one, from the outside, might cause it to snap. ##

The planners in Taiwan struck me as realistic men. They know that

they must depend heavily on factors outside their own control. First
and foremost, they depend on the inhuman idiocies of the Communist regime.
On these they feel they can rely. Secondly, they depend on America's
"moral cooperation" when the crucial moment arrives. They
hope that if history vouchsafes the West another Budapest, we will
receive the opportunity gladly. I remarked jocularly to the President
that the future of China would be far more certain if he would invite
a planeload of selected American Liberals to Quemoy on an odd
day. He affected (most properly) not to understand my point. But he-
and all of China- wear the scars of American indecisiveness, and
he knows what an uncertain ally we are. We have been grand to Formosa
itself- lots of aid, and, most of the time, a policy of support
for the offshore islands. But our outlook has been, and continues to
be, defensive. A great deal depends on the crystallization of Mr&
Kennedy's views on the world struggle. The Free Chinese know that
the situation on the Mainland is in flux, and are poised to strike.
There is not anywhere on the frontiers of freedom a more highly mobilized
force for liberation.
The moment of truth is the moment of crisis. During the slow buildup,
the essence of a policy or a man is concealed under embroidered details,
fine words, strutting gestures. The crisis burns these suddenly
away. There the truth is, open to eyes that are willing to look. The
moment passes. New self-deceiving rags are hurriedly tossed on the too-naked
bones. A truth-revealing crisis erupted in Katanga for
a couple of days this month, to be quickly smothered by the high pressure
verbal fog that is kept on tap for such emergencies. Before memory,
too, clouds over, let us make a note or two of what could be seen.

The measure was instantly taken, as always in such cases, of

public men at many levels. One knows better, now, who has bone and
who
has jelly in his spine. But I am here concerned more with policy
than with men. Public men come and go but great issues of policy remain.

Now, everyone knows- or knew in the week of December 10-

that something had gone shockingly wrong with American foreign policy.
The United States was engaged in a military attack on a peaceful,
orderly people governed by a regime that had proved itself the most
pro-Western and anti-Communist within any of the new nations-
the only place in Africa, moreover, where a productive relationship
between whites and blacks had apparently been achieved. Of course the
fighting was officially under the auspices of the United Nations. But
in the moment of truth everyone could see that the U&S& was
in reality the principal. The moment simultaneously revealed that
in the crisis our policy ran counter to that of all our ~NATO
allies, to the entire Western community. By our policy the West was-
is- split. But the key revelation is not new. The controlling
pattern was first displayed in the Hungary-Suez crisis of November
1956. It reappears, in whole or part, whenever a new crisis
exposes the reality: in Cuba last spring (with which the Dominican
events of last month should be paired); at the peaks of the nuclear
test and the Berlin cycles; in relation to Laos, Algeria, South
Africa; right now, with almost cartoon emphasis, in the temporally
linked complex of Tshombe-Gizenga-Goa-Ghana.

#WHAT THE MOMENTS

REVEAL#

This prime element of the truth may be stated as follows:

<Under prevailing policy, the U& S& can take the initiative
against the Right, but cannot take the initiative against the Left>.
It makes no difference what part of the world is involved, what form
of regime, what particular issue. <The U& S& cannot take the
initiative against the Left>. There is even some question whether
the U& S& can any longer <defend> itself against an initiative
by the Left. We can attack Tshombe, but not Gigenza. No
matter that Gizenga is Moscow's man in the Congo. No matter that
it is his troops who rape Western women and eat Western men. No matter
that the Katanga operation is strategically insane in terms of Western
interests in Africa. (Even granted that the Congo should be
unified, you don't protect Western security by <first> removing
the pro-Western weight from the power equilibrium.) We can force
Britain and France out of the Suez, but we cannot so much as <try>
to force the Russian tanks back from Budapest. We can mass our
fleet against the Trujillos, but not against the Castros. We can
vote in the ~UN against South African apartheid or Portuguese rule
in Angola, but we cannot even introduce a motion on the Berlin Wall-
much less, give the simple order to push the Wall down. We officially
receive the anti-French, Moscow-allied Algerian
~FLN,
but we denounce the pro-Europe, anti-Communist ~OAS as criminal.

In the very week of our war against Katanga, we make a $133

million grant to Kwame Nkrumah, who has just declared his solidarity
with the Communist bloc, and is busily turning his own country into
a totalitarian dictatorship. As our planes land the war materiel that
kills pro-Western Katangans, we stand supinely bleating while Nehru's
troops smash into a five-hundred-year-old district of our ~NATO
ally, Portugal. What explains this uni-directional paralysis?
It is the consequence of the system of ideas that constitutes
the frame of our international- and in some degree our domestic-
policy. The Suez-Hungary crisis proves that this system was not
invented by the new Administration, but only made more consistent and
more active.

#KEY TO THE PUZZLES#

Most immediately relevant to these

episodes in Goa, Katanga and Ghana, as to the Suez-Hungary crisis
before them, is the belief that the main theater of the world drama
is the underdeveloped region of Asia, Africa and Latin America.
From this belief is derived the practical orientation of our policy
on the "uncommitted" ("neutralist", "contested") nations,
especially on those whose leaders make the most noise- Nehru, Tito,
Nkrumah, Sukarno, Betancourt, etc&. Our chief aim becomes that
of finding favor in neutralist eyes. If we grasp this orientation
as a key, our national conduct in all of the events here mentioned
becomes intelligible. And it becomes clear why in general we cannot
take the initiative against the Left.

#BROADWAY#

_THE UNORIGINALS_ To write a play, the dramatist once

needed an idea plus the imagination, the knowledge of life and the
craft to develop it. Nowadays, more and more, all he needs is someone
else's book. To get started, he does not scan the world about him;
he and his prospective producer just read the bestseller lists. So
far this season, Broadway's premieres have included twice as many
adaptations and imports as original American stage plays. _BEST FROM
ABROAD._ Of straight dramas, there are <All the Way Home,>
which owes much of its poetic power to the James Agee novel, <A Death
in the Family; The Wall,> awkwardly based on the John Hersey
novel; <Advise and Consent,> lively but shallow theater drawn
from the mountainously detailed bestseller; <Face of a Hero> (closed),
based on a Pierre Boulle novel. The only original works
attempting
to reach any stature: Tennessee Williams' disappointing domestic
comedy, <Period of Adjustment,> and Arthur Laurents' clever
but empty <Invitation to a March>. Clearly the most provocative
plays are all imported originals- <A Taste of Honey,> by Britain's
young (19 when she wrote it) Shelagh Delaney; <Becket,>
by France's Jean Anouilh; <The Hostage> (closed), by Ireland's
Brendan Behan. Among the musicals, <Camelot> came
from T& H& White's <The Once and Future King,> and novels
were the sources of the less than momentous <Tenderloin> and <Do
Re Mi. Wildcat> and <The Unsinkable Molly Brown> were originals,
but pretty bad, leaving top honors again to an import- the
jaunty and charmingly French <Irma La Douce>. The only other works
at least technically original were dreary farces- <Send Me No
Flowers> (closed), <Under the Yum-Yum Tree, Critic's Choice>.
In the forthcoming <The Conquering Hero> and <Carnival,>
Broadway is not even adapting books, but reconverting old movies
(<Hail the Conquering Hero> and <Lili>). _DRY OF LIFE._
Originals
are not necessarily good and adaptations are not necessarily
bad. Some memorable plays have been drawn from books, notably <Life
with Father> and <Diary of Anne Frank>. And particularly in the
musical field, adaptations have long been the rule, from <Die Fledermaus>
and <The Merry Widow> to <Oklahoma!> and <My Fair
Lady>. As Critic Walter Kerr points out: "Adaptations,
so long as they are good, still qualify as creative". And other defenders
invariably argue that, after all, Shakespeare and Moliere were
adapters too. The difference is that the masters took the bare frame
of a plot and filled it with their own world; most modern adapters
totally accept the world of a book, squeeze it dry of life, and add only
one contribution of their own: stage technique. The most
frequent excuse for the prevalence of unoriginals and tested imports
is increasing production expense- producers cannot afford to take chances.
But that explanation is only partly true. Off-Broadway, where
production is still comparatively cheap, is proving itself only slightly
more original. Laudably enough, it is offering classics and off-beat
imports, but last week only one U&S& original was on the boards,
Robert D& Hock's stunning Civil War work, <Borak>. The
real trouble seems to be the failing imagination of U&S& playwrights.

#NIGHTCLUBS#

_THE COOCH TERPERS_ <He: "Come

with me to the casbah". She: "By subway or cab"?>
That exchange was not only possible but commonplace last week in Manhattan,
as more and more New Yorkers were discovering 29th Street and
Eighth Avenue, where half a dozen small nightclubs with names like
Arabian Nights, Grecian Palace and Egyptian Gardens are the American
inpost of belly dancing. Several more will open soon. Their
burgeoning popularity may be a result of the closing of the 52nd Street
burlesque joints, but curiously enough their atmosphere is almost always
familial- neighborhood saloons with a bit of epidermis.
The belly <boites,> with their papier-mache palm trees or hand-painted
Ionic columns, heretofore existed mainly on the patronage of Greek
and Turkish families. Customers often bring their children; between
performances, enthusiastic young men from the audience will take
the floor to demonstrate their own amateur graces. Except for the odd
uptown sex maniac or an overeager Greek sailor, the people watch in
calm absorption. Small, shirt-sleeved
orchestras play in 2/4 or 4/4 time,
using guitars, violins, and more alien instruments with names that
would open Sesame: the oud, grandfather of the lute; the darbuka,
a small drum with the treelike shape of a roemer glass; the def,
a low-pitched tambourine. The girls sit quietly with the musicians, wearing
prim dresses or plain, secretarial shifts, until it is time to
go off to a back room and reappear in the spare uniform of the harem.

_CONTINUUM OF MANKIND._ If a dancer is good, she suggests purely

and
superbly the fundamental mechanics of ancestry and progeny- the continuum
of mankind. But a great many of what <Variety> calls the
"cooch terpers" are considerably less cosmic than that. Each dancer
follows the ancient Oriental pattern- she glides sideways with
shoulders motionless while her stomach migrates, and, through breathing
and muscle control, she sends ripples across her body to the fingertips
and away to the far end of the room. This is done at varying speeds,
ranging from the slow and fast <Shifte Telli> (a musical term
meaning
double strings) to the fastest, ecstatic <Karshilama> (meaning
greetings or welcome). The New York dancers are highly eclectic, varying
the pattern with all kinds of personal improvisations, back bends
or floor crawls. But they do not strip. The striptease is crass;
the belly dance leaves more to the imagination. When a dancer
does well, she provokes a quiet bombardment of dollar bills- although
the Manhattan clubs prohibit the more cosmopolitan practice of slipping
the tips into the dancers' costumes. With tips, the girls average
between $150 and $200 a week, depending on basic salary. Although
they are forbidden to sit with the customers, the dancers are sometimes
proffered drinks, and most of them can bolt one down in mid-shimmy.

_THE MELTING POT._ All over the country, belly clubs have never
been bigger, especially in Detroit, Boston and Chicago, and even
in small towns; one of the best dancers, a Turkish girl named Semra,
works at a roadhouse outside Bristol, Conn&. The girls are kept
booked and moving by several agents, notably voluble, black-bearded
Murat Somay, a Manhattan Turk who is the Sol Hurok of the central
abdomen. He can offer nine Turkish girls, plans to import at least
15 more. But a great many of the dancers are more or less native. Sometimes
they get their initial experience in church <haflis,> conducted
by Lebanese and Syrians in the U&S&, where they dance with
just as
few veils across their bodies as in nightclubs. As the
girls come to belly dancing from this and other origins, the melting
pot has never bubbled more intriguingly. Some Manhattan examples:

@ Jemela (surname: Gerby), 23, seems Hong Kong Oriental

but has a Spanish father and an Indian mother, was born in America
and educated at
Holy Cross Academy and Textile High School, says
she learned belly dancing at family picnics. @ Serene (Mrs&
Wilson), 23, was born in Budapest and raised in Manhattan. Daughter
of a gypsy mother who taught her to dance, she is one of the few
really beautiful girls in the New York casbah, with dark eyes and dark,
waist-length hair, the face of an adolescent patrician and a lithe,
glimmering body. Many belly dancers are married, but Serene is one
of the few who will admit it. @ Marlene (surname: Adamo),
25, a Brazilian divorcee who learned the dance from Arabic friends
in Paris, now lives on Manhattan's West Side, is about the best
belly dancer working the casbah, loves it so much that she dances on
her day off. She has the small, highly developed body of a prime athlete,
and holds in contempt the "girls who just move sex". @
Leila (Malia Phillips), 25, is a Greenwich Village painter of
Persianesque miniatures
who has red hair that cascades almost to her ankles.
A graduate of Hollywood High School, she likes to imagine herself,
as she takes the floor, "a village girl coming in to a festival".

@ Gloria (surname: Ziraldo), circa 30, who was born

in Italy and once did "chorus work" in Toronto, has been around
longer than most of the others, wistfully remembers the old days
when
"we used to get the seamen from the ships, you know, with big turtleneck
sweaters and handkerchiefs and all. But the ships are very slow
now, and we don't get so many sailors any more". The uptown crowd
has moved in, and what girl worth her seventh veil would trade a turtleneck
sweater for a button-down collar?

#A SHORT, TORMENTED SPAN#

Of the handful of painters that Austria

has produced in the 20th century, only one, Oskar Kokoschka, is widely
known in the U&S&. This state of unawareness may not last
much longer. For ten years a small group of European and U&S&
critics has been calling attention to the half-forgotten Austrian
expressionist
Egon Schiele, who died 42 years ago at the age of 28. The
critics' campaign finally inspired the first major U&S& exhibit
of Schiele's works. The show has been to Boston and Manhattan,
will in time reach Pittsburgh and Minneapolis. Last week it opened
at the J& B& Speed Museum in Louisville, at the very moment
that a second Schiele exhibit was being made ready at the Felix Landau
gallery in Los Angeles. Schiele's paintings are anything
but pleasant. His people (<see color>) are angular and knobby-knuckled,
sometimes painfully stretched, sometimes grotesquely foreshortened.
His colors are dark and murky, and his landscapes and cityscapes
seem swallowed in gloom. But he painted some of the boldest and
most original pictures of his time, and even after nearly half a century,
the tense, tormented world he put on canvas has lost none of its
fascination. _THE DEVIL HIMSELF._ The son of a railway stationmaster,
Schiele lived most of his childhood in the drowsy Danubian town
of Tulln, 14 miles northwest of Vienna. He was an emotional, lonely
boy who spent so much time turning out drawings that he did scarcely
any schoolwork. When he was 15, his parents finally allowed him to attend
classes at the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna. Even there he
did not last for long. Cried one professor after a few months of Student
Schiele's tantrums and rebellion: "The devil himself must
have defecated you into my classroom"! For a while his
work was influenced deeply by the French impressionists, and by the patterned,
mosaic-like paintings of Gustav Klimt, then the dean of Austrian
art. Gradually Schiele evolved a somber style of his own-
and he had few inhibitions about his subject matter. His pictures were
roundly denounced as "the most disgusting things one has ever seen
in Vienna". He himself was once convicted of painting erotica and
jailed for 24 days- the first three of which he spent desperately trying
to make paintings on the wall with his own spittle. For years he
wore hand-me-down suits and homemade paper collars, was even driven
to scrounging for cigarette butts in Vienna's gutters. Drafted
into
the Austrian army, he rebelliously rejected discipline, wangled a Vienna
billet, went on painting. It was not until the last year of his
life that he had his first moneymaking show. _MELANCHOLY OBSESSION._
The unabashed sexuality of so many of this paintings was not the
only
thing that kept the public at bay: his view of the world was one of
almost unrelieved tragedy, and it was too much even for morbid-minded
Vienna. He was obsessed by disease and poverty, by the melancholy of
old age and the tyranny of lust. The children he painted were almost
always in rags, his portraits were often ruthless to the point of ugliness,
and his nudes- including several self-portraits- were stringy,
contorted and strangely pathetic. The subject he liked most was the
female body, which he painted in every state- naked, half-dressed,
muffled to the ears, sitting primly in a chair, lying tauntingly on a
bed or locked in an embrace.
THE MOST surprising thing about the Twenty-second Congress of
the Soviet Communist Party is that it <was> surprising- perhaps
quite as much, in its own way, as the Twentieth Congress of 1956, which
ended with that famous "secret" report on Stalin. The publication
last July of the party's Draft Program- that blueprint for
the "transition to communism"- had led the uninitiated to suppose
that this Twenty-second Congress would be a sort of apotheosis
of the Khrushchev regime, a solemn consecration of ideas which had, in
fact, been current over the last three or four years (i&e&, since
the defeat of the "anti-party group") in all theoretical party
journals. These never ceased to suggest that if, in the eyes of Marx
and Lenin "full communism" was still a very distant ideal, the establishment
of a Communist society had now, under Khrushchev, become
an "immediate and tangible reality". It seems that Khrushchev
himself took a very special pride in having made a world-shaking contribution
to Marxist doctrine with his Draft Program (a large part of
his twelve-hour speech at the recent Congress was, in fact, very largely
a rehash of that interminable document). He and other Soviet leaders
responsible for the document were proud of having brought forward
some new formulas, such as the early replacement of the dictatorship
of the proletariat by an "All People's State", and also of having
laid down the lines for a much greater "democratization" of
the whole hierarchy of Soviets, starting with the Supreme Soviet itself.
Their plan for rotation of leaders promised a salutary blow at
"bureaucracy" and would enable "the people" to take a more direct
and active part in running the country. Also, elections would be
more democratic; there might even be two or more candidates for voters
to choose from. No doubt, there was still a lot in the Draft
Program- and in Khrushchev's speech- which left many points
obscure. Was it the party's intention, for example, to abolish gradually
the <kolkhoz> system and replace it by uniformly wage-earning
<sovkhozes>, i&e&, state farms (which were, moreover, to be progressively
"urbanized")? As we know, the Soviet peasant today
still very largely thrives on being able to sell the produce grown on
his private plot; and it is still very far from certain how valid
the party's claim is that in "a growing number of <kolkhozes>"
the peasants are finding it more profitable, to surrender their private
plots to the
<kolkhoz> and to let the latter be turned into something
increasingly like a state farm. If one follows the reports of the
Congress, one finds that there still seems considerable uncertainty
in the minds of the leaders themselves about what exactly to do in this
matter. The Draft Program was interesting in other respects,
too. It contained, for example, a number of curious admissions about
the peasants, who enjoy no sickness benefits, no old-age pensions,
no paid holidays; they still benefit far less than the "other" 50
per cent of the nation from that "welfare state" which the Soviet
Union so greatly prides itself on being. ##
OVER ALL these
fairly awkward problems Khrushchev was to skate rather lightly;
and, though he repeated, over and over again, the spectacular figures
of industrial and agricultural production in 1980, the "ordinary"
people in Russia are still a little uncertain as to how "communism"
is really going to work in practice, especially in respect of food.
Would agriculture progress as rapidly as industry? This was something
on which K& himself seemed to have some doubts; for he kept
on threatening that he would "pull the ears" of those responsible
for agricultural production. And, as we know, the Virgin Lands are
<not> producing as much as Khrushchev had hoped. One cannot
but wonder whether these doubts about the success of Khrushchev's
agricultural policy have not at least something to do with one of the
big surprises provided by this Congress- the obsessive harping on the
crimes and misdeeds of the "anti-party group"- Molotov, Malenkov,
Kaganovich and others- including the eighty-year-old Marshal
Voroshilov. Molotov, in particular, is being charged with all kinds
of sins- especially with wanting to cut down free public services,
to increase rents and fares; in fact, with having been against <all>
the more popular features of the Khrushchev "welfare state".
The trouble with all these doctrinal quarrels is that we hear only one
side of the story: what, in the secret councils of the Kremlin,
Molotov had <really> proposed, we just don't know, and he has had
no chance to reply. ##

BUT ONE cannot escape the suspicion

that all this non-stop harping on the misdeeds of the long liquidated
"anti-party" group would be totally unnecessary if there were not,
inside the party, some secret but genuine opposition to Khrushchev on
vital doctrinal grounds, on the actual methods to be employed in the
"transition to communism" and, last but not least, on foreign policy.

The whole problem of "peaceful coexistence and peaceful

competition" with the capitalist world is in the very center of this
Congress. Mikoyan declared: "Molotov altogether rejects
the line of peaceful coexistence, reducing this concept merely to the
state of peace or rather, the absence of war at a given moment, and
to a denial of the possibility of averting a world war. His views, in
fact, coincide with those of foreign enemies of peaceful coexistence,
who look upon it merely as a variant of the "cold war" or of an "armed
peace"". One cannot help wondering whether Molotov
and the rest of the "anti-party group" are not being used as China's
whipping-boys by Khrushchev and his faithful followers. For
something, clearly, has gone very, very seriously wrong in Soviet-Chinese
relations, which were never easy, and have now deteriorated.

The effect of Chou En-lai's clash with Khrushchev, together

with the everlasting attacks on Molotov + Co&, has shifted the whole
attention of the world, including that of the Soviet people, from
the "epoch-making" twenty-year program to the present Soviet-Chinese
conflict. Not only, as we know, did Chou En-lai publicly treat
Khrushchev's attack on Albania as "something that we cannot consider
as a serious Marxist-Leninist approach" to the problem (i&e&,
as something thoroughly dictatorial and "undemocratic"), but
the Albanian leaders went out of their way to be openly abusive to
Khrushchev, calling him a liar, a bully, and so on. It is extremely
doubtful that the handful of Albanians who call themselves Communists
could have done this without the direct approval of their Chinese friends.
The big question is whether, in the name of a restored Chinese-Soviet
solidarity, the Chinese will choose to persuade the Albanians
to present their humble apologies to Khrushchev- or get rid of
Enver Hoxa. These seem about the only two ways in which the "unhappy
incident" can now be closed. But Albania is merely a symptom
of a real malaise between China and Russia. There are other
symptoms. Khrushchev, for all his bombastic prophecies about the inevitable
decay of capitalism, is genuinely favorable to "peaceful coexistence"
and would like, above all, the Berlin and German problems
to be settled peacefully; he knows that he was never more popular than
at the time of the Russo-American "honeymoon" of 1959. But
it seems that pressures against him are coming from somewhere- in the
first place from China, but perhaps also from that "China Lobby"
which, I was assured in Moscow nearly two years ago, exists on
the quiet inside the party. To these people, solidarity and unity with
China should be the real basis of Russia's future policy. And the
Chinese, as the Albanian incident shows, have strong suspicions that
Khrushchev is anxious to secure a "shameful" peace with the West.
The fact that China (which is obsessed by Formosa- to Khrushchev
a very small matter) should be supported by North Korea and North
Vietnam is highly indicative. And one cannot but wonder whether
Marshal Malinovsky,
who was blowing hot and cold, exalting peace but
also almost openly considering the possibility of preventive war against
the West, wasn't trying to keep the Chinese quiet. And this
brings us inevitably to the 30-
or 50-megaton bomb. Was not this dropped
primarily in order to "appease" the Chinese- especially after
"Khrushchev's "humiliating" surrender to the West in canceling
the German peace-treaty deadline of December 31? What
does it all add up to? Indications are that Khrushchev (and, with
him, the bulk of the Soviet people) favor peaceful coexistence and (with
the exception of Berlin) the maintenance of the <status quo> in
the world. The Chinese, North Vietnamese and North Koreans, on
the other hand, feel that, militarily, Russia is strong enough to support
them in the "just wars of liberation" they would like to embark
on before long: with China attacking Formosa and the North Koreans
and North Vietnamese liberating the southern half of their respective
countries. Perhaps Khrushchev is in a more difficult
position than any since 1957, when the "anti-party group" nearly
liquidated him. He seems strong enough inside the party to cope with
any internal opposition; but if he is up against China's crusading
spirit in world affairs, he is going to be faced with the most agonizing
choice in his life. He may support China (but he won't); he
may break with China (which would be infernally difficult and perhaps
disastrous), or he may succeed, by all kinds of dangerous concessions,
in persuading China to be patient. The next days may show where things
stand.
ON a misty Sunday morning last month, a small band of militant
anti-Communists called the Minutemen held maneuvers in a foggy field
about fifteen miles east of here. Eleven men, a woman and a teen-age
boy tramped over cold, damp, fog-enshrouded ground during a two-hour
field drill in the problems of guerrilla warfare. To the average
American, this must sound like an incredible tale from a Saturday
night ~TV movie. But to the Minutemen, this is a serious business.
They feel that the United States is engaged in a life-and-death
struggle with communism for survival and world supremacy. They feel
that World War /3, has already begun, and they are setting themselves
up as a "last line of defense" against the Communist advance.
Their national leader, Robert Bolivar DePugh of Norborne,
Mo&, says the Minutemen believe that guerrilla tactics are best
suited to defeat the Red onslaught. In their maneuvers last month,
they wore World War /2, camouflage garb and helmets, and carried unloaded
~M-1 rifles. The maneuvers were held "in secret"
after a regional seminar for the Minutemen, held in nearby Shiloh,
Ill&, had been broken up the previous day by deputy sheriffs, who had
arrested regional leader Richard Lauchli of Collinsville, Ill&,
and seized four operative weapons, including a Browning machine gun,
two Browning automatic rifles and an ~M-4 rifle. Undismayed
by this contretemps, a small band of the faithful gathered at Lauchli's
home at 6:30 A&M& the next day, put on their uniforms,
and headed for a farm several miles away. A 60 mm& mortar and a
57 mm&
recoilless rifle owned by Lauchli were brought along. The mortar
was equipped with dummy shells and the recoilless rifle was deactivated.

After a tortuous drive in an open truck and a World War

/2, army jeep down soggy trails, the band arrived at a small clearing
squeezed between a long, low ridge and a creek-filled gully. Here
the two leaders, DePugh and Lauchli, hastened to put the group
through its paces. The Minutemen were instructed in the use
of terrain for concealment. They were shown how to advance against an
enemy outpost atop a cleared ridge. They practiced movement behind a
smoke screen laid by smoke grenades; and they attempted a skirmish
line of advance against a camouflaged enemy encampment. Eleven dummy
rounds were fired by Lauchli in a demonstration of rapid-fire mortar
shooting. Mrs& DePugh, the mother of five children and an
active member of her husband's organization, participated in all the
exercises. There were no "casualties", but the "guerrillas"
admitted to being "a little tired" when the leaders called
a halt at 9 A&M& to enable out-of-town members to catch a plane.

#TENURE AS CRITERION#

I would like to add one more practical reform

to those mentioned by Russell Kirk [Dec& 16]. It has to do
with teachers' salaries and tenure. Next September, after receiving
a degree from Yale's Master of Arts in Teaching Program,
I will be teaching somewhere- that much is guaranteed by the present
shortage of mathematics teachers. I will also be underpaid. The
amazing thing is that this too is caused by the dearth of teachers. Teaching
is at present a sellers' market; as a result buyers, the
public, must be satisfied with second-rate teachers. But this is not
the real problem; the rub arises from the fact that teachers are usually
paid on the basis of time served rather than quality. Hence all
teachers, good and bad, who have been teaching for a given number of
years are paid the same salary. I am firmly convinced that considering
the average quality of teachers in this country, the profession is grossly
overpaid. It follows that teachers as a group cannot expect
any marked salary increases; there is a limit to how much the public
will pay for shoddy performance. The only hope which good teachers
have for being paid their due is to stop dragging the dead weight
of poor teachers up the economic ladder with them. The only hope which
the public has for getting good teachers is to pay teachers on the basis
of merit rather than tenure. Here, as in all sectors of the economy,
quality and justice are both dependent on the right of the individual
to deal directly with his employer if he so chooses. @
#LOSS
OF INITIATIVE#

On the eve of the "great debate" on the proposal

to give the President broad powers to make across-the-board tariff concessions
which could practically bring us into the Atlantic Community,
we should face the alternatives on this proposition. What we will
be sacrificing in any such arrangement will be our power to be <selective>
which is contained in the reciprocal trade principle under which
we now operate. Without this power we lay open any American industry
which the Europeans may find it economically profitable to destroy
to the will of others. It is this loss of initiative in how we conduct
our <economy> which may lead to the loss of initiative in how we
conduct our <political> affairs. @

#A BRIEF FOR THE NEGATIVE#

I disagree with Mr& Burnham's position on the Common Market

[Nov& 18] as a desirable organization for us to join. For him to
ignore the political consequences involved in an Atlantic Union of
this kind is difficult to understand. The pressure for our entry to
the Common Market is mounting and we will proceed towards this amalgamated
trade union by way of a purely "economic thoroughfare", or
garden path, with the political ramifications kept neatly in the background.
The appeal is going to be to the pocketbook and may be very convincing
to those who do not see its relation to political and legal,
as well as economic, self-rule. In entering this union we will be surrendering
most, if not all, of our economic autonomy to international
bodies such as the Atlantic Institute (recently set up) or the O&E&C&D&,
I&M&F& and others. To think that we can merely
relinquish our economic autonomy without giving up our political
or legal autonomy is wishful thinking. If it is not enough that
all of our internationalist One Worlders are advocating that we join
this market, I refer you to an article in the <New York Times>'
magazine section [Nov& 12, 1961], by Mr& Eric Johnston,
entitled "We Must Join the Common Market". He says: "It
has swept aside petty nationalisms, age-old rivalries, and worn-out
customs". Referring to Britain, he says, "We see a nation that
traditionally values sovereignty above all else willing to give up its
economy, placing this authority in Continental hands". **h Since
the goal of our international planners is a World Government, this Atlantic
Community would mark a giant step in that direction for, once
American economic autonomy is absorbed, a larger grouping is a question
of time. Frankly, it is being very cleverly done for, in a sense,
they have us over a barrel. Listen to what Mr& Johnston has to
say: "Consider the savage wounds that isolationism would inflict.
**h We would lose our export markets and deny ourselves the imports
we need. We would be crippled by reduced output, industrial decline,
widespread unemployment". But the solution to this dilemma
is not the incorporation of the United States into an Atlantic Community
or "economic empire", but merely what libertarians like Henry
Hazlitt and Ludwig von Mises have been arguing for years: an
end to government regulations, an end to government competition in industry,
and a realistic depreciation allowance for industry. Create a
free market here, give us a sound, debt-free money system, and we'll
compete with anyone, Europe and Asia combined. In short, get this
governmental monstrosity off our backs and we won't have to worry about
European competition or Communism either. If we want to preserve
our sovereignty, this is the way to do it; not acquiesce to an international
planning board. If we go into this Common Market, we might
just as well stop talking about Constitutional guarantees, Connally
Amendments or, for that matter, conservatism in general. @

<We welcome this able brief for the negative as part of a many-sided
discussion of the Atlantic Common Market which> ~NR <will
be continuing in our pages>. -ED&.

#MENTAL TELEPATHY?#

The Peiping Chinese were the only major silver seller in the
world markets who stopped selling the metal on Monday morning, November
27, anticipating by two days the announcement of the U&S&
Treasury that the pegged offering price will be removed. @

#A PROFESSOR
AND THE ARMY#

In 1954 I was drafted and after serving two

years honorably on Active Duty I was not required to participate in
any further Army Reserve activities. Now, more than five years later,
I cannot in any realistic sense be called a trained soldier. But,
in spite of this, I, at present a man 31 years of age and a College
Professor, have been recalled "by direction of the President"
to report on November 25th to Fort Devens, Massachusetts, for another
twelve months of Active Duty as an ~Sp 4 (the equivalent of a
~PFC). Today, seven years after the date of my initial induction
as a draftee, I am Assistant Professor of Philosophy and Science
at St& Michael's College. For, after leaving the Army in 1956,
I spent five years in Graduate School first at Boston College
and then at the University of Toronto. This time, added to that which
I had already spent in school prior to my induction in 1954, makes
a total of twenty-two (22) years of education. The possibility
of recall into the Army is part of the price that a modern American
has to pay for the enviable heritage of liberty which he enjoys. With
this no loyal citizen can quarrel. However, it seems axiomatic that
the government has an obligation "to exercise its mandate reasonably,
equitably and with full regard for the disruptions which it inevitably
causes". In my own case, I submit that such reasonable and fair
exercise is woefully lacking. Taken back into the Army now as an
~Sp 4, I am leaving 110 college students whose teacher I am. (A
wry sidelight on this is that most of my students have deferments from
the draft in order to attend my classes.) At this late date, it is
impossible for St& Michael's College to find a suitable replacement
for me. Even apart from the fact that now at the age of 31 my personal
life is being totally disrupted for the second time for no very
compelling reason- I cannot help looking around at the black leather
jacket brigades standing idly on the street corners and in the taverns
of every American city and asking myself if our society has gone
mad. @

#MERCENARY: TERM OF HONOR?#

In news broadcasts I consistently

hear the foreign volunteers fighting in the Katanga Army
referred to as mercenaries. This confuses me no end. If the Hessian
troops sent here willy-nilly by the Hessian Government to fight for
England in the 1770's were mercenaries, what shall we call the ~UN
troops sent to the Congo willy-nilly by <their> governments to
fight for the United Nations? If the ~UN troops are not mercenaries
then the Hessians were not mercenaries either. And if the foreigners
fighting in the Katanga Army are mercenaries then Lafayette
and von Steuben were mercenaries too, as were also the members of the
Lafayette Escadrille in the early part of World War /1, and of
Chennault's Flying Tigers in the early days of World War /2,.
@

#MODERN POSTAL SLOGAN#

It doesn't take a Gore Vidal to tell you

what's wrong with Cherokee Textile's slogan ["Pitney-Bowes
Objects", July 1]. It's an eighteenth-century negative, man!
Suggest the following twenty-first-century amendment: @ By moving
the term "Republic" to lower case, substituting the modern
phrase "move ahead" for the stodgy "keep", and by using the Postmaster's
name on every envelope (in caps, of course, with the "in
spite" as faded as possible), the slogan cannot fail. @

#THE
IMPENDING DEATH OF POPE#

In the issue of March 5, 1960 you had an

excellent editorial which said: "On trial in Jakarta for
having flown for the Indonesian anti-Communist insurgents,
U&S&
pilot Alan Lawrence Pope boldly told the court that in supporting
the freedom fighters, he was actually defending the sovereignty and independence
of Indonesia. Facing a prosecution which has demanded the
death penalty, he said: 'I have participated in the war against
Communism in Korea and at Dienbienphu, and I have helped in the evacuation
of North Vietnamese to the free world. I have done all this
for the freedom of the individuals concerned and also for the states
which have been threatened by Communist domination'. At least in
Indonesia, Khrushchev found an American proud to be at total war with
Communism"! Since then nothing has happened to save the
life of Pope. I found recently a very small article in the <New
York Times:> "U&S&
Flier loses Plea. Indonesia Court
Upholds Pope's Death Sentence.- Indonesia Military Supreme
Court has confirmed the death sentence passed on Alan Lawrence
Pope, an American pilot. Pope was convicted last year of having aided
North Celebes rebels by flying bombing missions. He has been in
prison since May, 1958, when his aircraft was shot down over Moluccas.
He may appeal to President Sukarno for clemency". As
we see, Pope may appeal to President Sukarno, Khrushchev's friend,
for clemency. This possibility is anything but reassuring.
The Eleanor Roosevelt Tractor Committee acts on behalf of the Cuban
freedom fighters. But who will act now and immediately to save the
life of Alan Pope? Are tractors available for him? Does anybody
think of saving the life of an anti-Communist American pilot?
@

#AN ANALOGY#

A few days before I saw your mention of what Texas

Liberals were doing to promote "Louis Capet" ["The Week",
June 3], another analogy had occurred to me. Consider
this table: _1._ Louis /14,- ~FDR. "**h With no strong
men and no parliament to dispute his will, he <was> the government".

_2._ Regency- Truman. "A 'dust-settling' period

of decadence and decline". _3._ Louis /15,- Eisenhower.
"**h he opened his mouth, said little, and thought not at all". _4._
Louis /16,- Kennedy. "**h not <completely> virtuous,
but <completely> incompetent". And Marie Antoinette- Jacqueline
Bouvier. "**h the beautiful and light-hearted". _5._
French Revolution- Conservative Revolution? Truly,
that Liberals should choose Louis /14, as a bogey-symbol of conservatism
is grotesquely ironic, considering the Louis /14, character
of their Grand Monarque, ~FDR: not only in his accretion of absolute
power and personal deification, (<le roi gouverne par lui meme>),
but in the disastrous effects of his spending and war policies.

In defeating "Louis Capet", John Tower's victory in

Texas signals, once again, the end of the divine right of Liberalism.

#CONFRONTATION#

IT SEEMS TO ME that N&C&, in his editorial

"Confrontation" [~SR, Mar& 25], has hit upon the real
problem that bothers all of us in a complex world: how do we retain
our personal relationship with those who suffer? This affects us
all intimately, and can leave us hopeless in the face of widespread distress.
I know of no other solution than the one N&C& proposes-
to do what we can for each sufferer as he confronts us, hoping that
this will spread beyond him to others at some time and some place. Never
have I seen this expressed so clearly and so sympathetically. @

THANK YOU for the illustrated editorial "Confrontation".

It is both great writing and profound religion. @ N&C&
HAS SAID something important so well that this preacher
will many times be tempted to quote the whole piece. @ I
FEEL THAT N&C& hit the very core of our existence in the editorial
"Confrontation". Personally, it meant a great deal; my
only hope is that it will be shared by many, many others. @ "CONFRONTATION"
should fortify us all, whether in Southeast
Asia or the U&S&. @ CONGRATULATIONS TO N&C&
for successfully delving into the heart of the problems that face the
Peace Corps. I concur that it is necessary for Americans to have
a confrontation of the situation existing in foreign lands. It would
be heartbreaking to see idealism, and hence effective leadership, thwarted
by the poverty and hardship which young Americans will run into.
@ THE EDITORIAL "Confrontation" was certainly direct
in its appear to those of us living here in America. I personally
gained strength from it. Thanks for continuing to capture the attention
and uncover so many areas of need in this amazing world. @

N&C&'s EDITORIAL "Confrontation" is a stunning piece

of writing. I would hope that Sargent Shriver will encourage everyone
entering the Peace Corps to read it. The important people to
humanity are not the Khrushchevs and the Castros **h but the Schweitzers
and the Dooleys, and the others like them whose names we will
never know. @ EDITOR'S NOTE: <Reprints of "Confrontation"
will be included among the material to be distributed to
members of the Peace Corps. A Peace Corps official described the
editorial as "precisely the message we need to communicate to the
men and women who will soon be Peace Corps volunteers>".

#IMPROPER
BOSTONIAN?#

F& L& LUCAS'S article in ~SR's

April 1 issue seemed to be a very fair and objective analysis of the
New English Bible. I certainly hope this will be the impression left
in the minds of readers, rather than the comment by Cleveland Amory
in his FIRST OF THE MONTH column. It is blind, fundamentalist
dogmatism to say, "Messing around with the King James version
**h seems to us a perilous sport at best". @

#FACTS IN FOCUS#

LESTER MARKEL is on the right track in his article "Interpretation

of Interpretation"
[~SR, Mar& 11]. The current stereotype
of straight news reporting was probably invaluable in protecting
the press and its readers from pollution by that combination of doctored
fact, fancy, and personal opinion called yellow journalism which flourished
in this country more than a generation ago. We don't
need this type of protection any more. The public is now armed with
sophistication and numerous competing media. Besides, there are no
longer enough corruptible journalists about. The accepted method
of writing news has two major liabilities. First, it does not communicate.
A reporter restricted to the competing propaganda statements
of both sides in a major labor dispute, for instance, is unable to tell
his readers half of what he knows about the causes of the dispute.
Second, it subjects the news to distortion by the unscrupulous. The
charges by the late junior Senator from Wisconsin not only destroyed
innocent people but misled the nation. Yet the press was powerless
to put these charges in perspective in its news columns. despite several
years of front-page stories, the average citizen was unable to get
a complete picture of McCarthy until he saw on the television screen
what the reporters had been seeing all along but had no effective way
of communicating. The Senator had boxed them in with their own restrictions.

It seems to me the time has come for the American

press to start experimenting with ways of reporting the news that will
do a better job of communicating and will be less subject to abuse by
those who have learned how to manipulate the present stereotype to serve
their own ends. The objective should be to provide a method of getting
into print a higher percentage than is now possible of the relevant
information in the possession of reporters and editors. @

#SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA BLACKOUT#

I WOULD LIKE to see you devote

some space in an early issue to the news blackout concerning President
Kennedy's activities, so far as Southern California is concerned.
You have on more than one occasion praised the idea of a televised
press conference and the chance it gives the people to form intelligent
opinions. To begin with, the all-powerful Los Angeles <Times>
does not publish a transcript of these press conferences. I
am sure that they did when Eisenhower was President. Next,
because of the time differential, the conferences come on the networks
during the middle of the day. Up until now, the networks have grudgingly
run half-hour tapes at 5 P&M& or sometimes 7 or 10:30 P&M&.
Even then, a few of the "less interesting" questions are
edited out and glibly summarized by a commentator. However, last night
the tapes were not run at all during the evening hours and all we got
on ~TV were a few snatches which Douglas Edwards and Huntley
and Brinkley could squeeze into their programs. This is no criticism
of them, as they obviously cannot get a half-hour program into a fifteen-minute
news summary. The radio stations did run "transcripts"
(I thought) during the evening hours. However, by comparing
the ~TV snatches, two different radio station re-runs, and the censored
Los Angeles <Times> version, I found that the radio stations
had edited out questions (~ABC removed the one regarding Laos)
or even a paragraph out of the middle of the President's answer.
I am interested to know he is getting mail from all over the country
about the "abuse" he is being subjected to. We out here don't
see enough of the conference to know he is being abused. I don't
know if this is the situation in other parts of the country; apparently
it is not. It also happened with the Inauguration, which was
not re-run at all during the evening hours, and I wrote to the ~TV
editor of the <Times>. He did mention in his column the fact that
he had received many letters about this and he himself did not understand
the networks and the independent local stations' not doing this-
but nothing happened. Can you bring the networks' attention
to this? @

#FOR A COLLEGE OF PROPAGANDA#

I WAS INTERESTED
in James Webb Young's MADISON AVENUE column in which
he raised the question "Do We Need a College of Propaganda"?
[~SR, Feb& 11]. In my estimation, we definitely
do; and the sad part of it is that we had one, which was rounding into
excellent shape, and we let it disintegrate and die. During
the war, we set up schools for the teaching of psychological warfare,
which included the teaching of propaganda, both black and white and the
various shades of grey in between. We had a couple of schools in this
country, the principal one being on the Marshall Field estate out
in Lloyd's Neck. There were also a couple in Canada, and several
in England. The English schools preceded ours, and by the time we
got into it they had learned a lot about the techniques of propaganda
and its teaching. Four of us here in the United States attended,
first as students, then as instructors, almost every one of these
schools, in England, Canada, and the United States. We set up
the Lloyd's Neck school, worked out its curriculum, and taught there.
Toward the end of the war, we really felt that we had learned something
about propaganda and how to teach it. When the end did
come, and the schools were disbanded and abandoned, we felt and hoped
that the machinery of psychological warfare would not be allowed to rust.
We hoped that its practitioners and teachers might be put on some
sort of reserve list and called back for refresher courses each year
or so. Alas, no such thing happened. There apparently is no school of
propaganda or psychological warfare. A study at the Pentagon and at
the service academies revealed that nothing was being done there. And
not one of the four men who attended all the schools has ever been
called on to apply any of his knowledge in any way. @ CONGRATULATIONS
on the article "Do We Need a College of Propaganda"?
This is one of the most constructive suggestions made in this
critical field in years, and I certainly hope it sparks some action.
@
#LET THE MEDIA CLEAN HOUSE, TOO#

MANY OF US in public
relations were flattered that Richard L& Tobin chose to devote his
editorial in the March 11 Communications Supplement to the merger
of the Public Relations Society of America and the American Public
Relations Association.

#SNOW STORM#

I WAS SURPRISED and sorry to find in your issue

of March 4 a long and detailed attack upon a book that had not yet
been published. Whether in his forthcoming book C& P& Snow
commits the errors of judgment and of fact with which your heavily
autobiographical critic charged him is important. One should be able
to get hold of the book at once. But the attack was made from an advance
copy. If this practice should take root and spread, the man who
submits a manuscript to a publisher will find himself reviewed before
he is accepted and publication will become a sort of post-mortem formality.
@ EDITOR'S NOTE: <Sir Robert Watson-Watt
wrote, on page 50 of> ~SR/ <Research for 4 March 1961: "I
have read an advance copy of the Snow book which is to be titled, 'Science
and Government'. Until the work actually appears I am
not privileged to analyze it publicly in detail. But I have compared
its text with already published commentaries on the 1960 series of Godkin
lectures at Harvard, from which the book was derived, and I can
with confidence challenge the gist of C& P& Snow's incautious
tale". Watson-Watt's remarks in> ~SR <did not then,
constitute a review of the book but a rebuttal to the Godkin Lectures.
Representatives of Harvard University Press, which is publishing
the book this month of April, recognize and freely acknowledge
that they invited such reaction by allowing> Life <magazine to print
an excerpt from the book in advance of the book's publication date.
The text of the book leaves a somewhat milder impression than the
prepublication excerpt>. ##

SIR ROBERT WATSON-WATT'S "rebuttal"

of Sir Charles Snow's Godkin Lectures is marred throughout
by too forceful a desire to defend Lindemann and apparently himself
from Sir Charles' supposed falsehoods while stating those "falsehoods"
in an unclear incoherent argument. The article
presents the reader with an absurdity at its beginning. It calls the
conclusion admitted valid by "historians and military strategists alike"
a "perverted conclusion. **h nonsense". It submits
an enthusiastic, impressionistic conception of Lindemann contributing
another aspect of the man, but on no more authoritative basis than Sir
Charles' account. We are left to choose between the two Lindemanns.

The only fact that holds any weight in the article is the
result of the tea party. But we are to believe that Lindemann actively
supported radar outside the Tizard Committee, and dissembling,
discounted it inside? If so, I would lean to Sir Charles' conception
of the man. I think it was a grave error to print the
article at this time. To the unfortunate people unable to attend the
Godkin lectures it casts an unjustifiable aura of falsehood over the
book which may dissuade some people from reading it. @

IT IS NOT NEWS that Nathan Milstein is a wizard of the

violin. Certainly not in Orchestra hall where he has played countless
recitals, and where Thursday night he celebrated his 20th season with
the Chicago Symphony orchestra, playing the Brahms Concerto with
his own slashing, demon-ridden cadenza melting into the high, pale,
pure and lovely song with which a violinist unlocks the heart of the music,
or forever finds it closed. There was about that song something
incandescent, for this Brahms was Milstein at white heat. Not
the noblest performance we have heard him play, or the most spacious,
or even the most eloquent. Those would be reserved for the orchestra's
great nights when the soloist can surpass himself. This time the
orchestra gave him some superb support fired by response to his own
high mood. But he had in Walter Hendl a willing conductor able only
up to a point. That is, when Mr& Milstein thrust straight
to the core of the music, sparks flying, bow shredding, violin singing,
glittering and sometimes spitting, Mr& Hendl could go along. But
Mr& Hendl does not go straight to any point. He flounders and
lets music sprawl. There was in the Brahms none of the mysterious and
marvelous alchemy by which a great conductor can bring soloist, orchestra
and music to ultimate fusion. So we had some dazzling and memorable
Milstein, but not great Brahms. The concert opened with
another big romantic score, Schumann's Overture to "Manfred",
which suffered fate, this time with orchestral thrusts to the Byronic
point to keep it afloat. Hindemith's joust with Weber tunes was
a considerably more serious misfortune, for it demands transluscent
textures, buoyant rhythms, and astringent wit. It got the kind of scrambled,
coarsened performance that can happen to best of orchestras when
the man with the baton lacks technique and style.

#BAYREUTH NEXT
SUMMER#

The Bayreuth Festival opens July 23 with a new production

of "Tannhaeuser" staged by Wieland Wagner, who is doing all the
operas this time, and conducted by Wolfgang Sawallisch. Sawalisch
also conducts "The Flying Dutch", opening July 24. "Parsifal"
follows July 25, with Hans Knappertsbusch conducting, and he
also conducts "Die Meistersinger", to be presented Aug& 8 and
12. The "Ring" cycles are July 26, 27, 28 and 30, and Aug&
21, 22, 23 and 25. Rudolf Kempe conducts. No casts are listed, but
Lotte Lehmann sent word that the Negro soprano, Grace Bumbry, will
sing Venus in "Tannhaeuser".

REMEMBER HOW BY a series of booking absurdities Chicago

missed seeing the Bolshoi Ballet? Remember how by lack of two big
theaters Chicago missed the first visit of the Royal Danish Ballet?
Well, now we have two big theaters. But barring a miracle, and
don't hold your breath for it, Chicago will not see the Leningrad-Kirov
Ballet, which stems from the ballet cradle of the Maryinsky and
is one of the great companies of the world. Before you let
loose a howl saying we announced its coming, not once but several times,
indeed we did. The engagement was supposed to be all set for the big
theater in McCormick Place, which Sol Hurok, ballet booker extraordinary,
considers the finest house of its kind in the country- and
of course he doesn't weep at the capacity, either. #@#

It
was all set. Allied Arts corporation first listed the Chicago dates
as Dec& 4 thru 10. Later the Hurok office made it Dec& 8 thru
17, a nice, long booking for the full repertory. But if you keep a calendar
of events, as we do, you noticed a conflict. Allied Arts had
booked Marlene Dietrich into McCormick Place Dec& 8 and 9. Something
had to give. Not La Dietrich. Allied Arts then notified
us that the Kirov would cut short its Los Angeles booking, fly here
to open Nov& 28, and close Dec& 2. Shorter booking, but still
a booking. We printed it. A couple of days later a balletomane
told me he had telephoned Allied Arts for ticket information and was
told "the newspapers had made a mistake". So I started making
some calls of my own. These are the results. #@#

The Kirov Ballet

is firmly booked into the Shrine Auditorium, Los Angeles, Nov&
21 thru Dec& 4. Not a chance of opening here Nov& 28-
barring that miracle. Then why not the juicy booking Hurok had held
for us? Well, Dietrich won't budge from McCormick Place. Then
how about the Civic Opera house? Well, Allied Arts has booked
Lena Horne there for a week starting Dec& 4. Queried about
the impasse, Allied Arts said: "Better cancel the Kirov for
the time being. It's all up in the air again". So the Kirov
will fly back to Russia, minus a Chicago engagement, a serious
loss for dance fans- and for the frustrated bookers, cancellation of
one of the richest bookings in the country. Will somebody please
reopen the Auditorium?

Paintings and drawings by Marie Moore of St& Thomas, Virgin

Islands, are shown thru Nov& 5 at the Meadows gallery, 3211
Ellis av&, week days, 3 p& m& to 8 p& m&, Sundays 3 p& m&
to 6 p& m&, closed Mondays. @ #@#

An exhibition of
Evelyn Cibula's paintings will open with a reception Nov& 5 at
the Evanston Community center, 828 Davis st&. It will continue all
month. #@#

Abstractions and semi-abstractions by Everett McNear

are being exhibited by the University gallery of Notre Dame
until Nov& 5.

In the line of operatic trades to cushion the budget, the Dallas

Civic Opera will use San Francisco's new Leni Bauer-Ecsy
production of "Lucia di Lammermoor" this season, returning the favor
next season when San Francisco uses the Dallas "Don Giovanni",
designed by Franco Zeffirelli.

H E& BATES has scribbled a farce called "Hark, Hark,

the Lark"! It is one of the most entertaining and irresponsible
novels of the season. If there is a moral lurking among the
shenanigans, it is hard to find. Perhaps the lesson we should take from
these pages is that the welfare state in England still allows wild
scope for all kinds of rugged eccentrics. Anyway, a number of
them meet here in devastating collisions. One is an imperial London
stockbroker called Jerebohm. Another is a wily countryman called Larkin,
whose blandly boisterous progress has been chronicled, I believe,
in earlier volumes of Mr& Bates' comedie humaine. What's
up now? Well, Jerebohm and his wife Pinkie have reached the
stage of affluence that stirs a longing for the more atrociously expensive
rustic simplicities. They want to own a junior-grade castle,
or a manor house, or some modest little place where Shakespeare might
once have staged a pageant for Great Elizabeth and all her bearded
courtiers. They are willing to settle, however, in anything
that offers pheasants to shoot at and peasants to work at. And of course
Larkin has just the thing they want.

#SPLENDOR BY SORCERY#

It's a horror. The name of it is Gore Court, and it is surrounded

by a wasteland that would impress T& S& Eliot. That's not
precisely the way Larkin urges them to look at it, though. He conjures
herds
of deer, and wild birds crowding the air. He suggests
that Gore Court embodies all the glories of Tudor splendor. The stained-glass
windows may have developed unpremeditated patinas, the paneling
may be no more durable than the planks in a political platform.
The vast, dungeon kitchens may seem hardly worth using except on occasions
when one is faced with a thousand unexpected guests for lunch.

Larkin has an answer to all that. The spaciousness of the Tudor

cooking areas, for example, will provide needed space for the extra
television sets required by modern butlers, cooks and maids. Also, perhaps,
table-tennis and other indoor sports to keep them fit and contented.

It's a wonder, really, to how much mendacious trouble

Larkin puts himself to sell the Jerebohms that preposterous manse.
He doesn't really need the immense sum of money (probably converted
from American gold on the London Exchange) he makes them pay.

For Larkin is already wonderfully contented with his lot. He has

a glorious wife and many children. When he needs money to buy something
like, say, the Rolls-Royce he keeps near his vegetable patch, he
takes a flyer in the sale of surplus army supplies. One of those capital-gains
ventures, in fact, has saddled him with Gore Court. He is
willing to sell it just to get it off his hands. And the Jerebohms
are more than willing to buy it. They plan to become county people
who know the proper way to terminate a fox's life on earth.

#FIRST
ONE, THEN THE OTHER#

If, in Larkin's eyes, they are nothing

but Piccadilly farmers, he has as much to learn about them as they
have to learn about the ways of truly rural living. Mr& Bates
shows us how this mutual education spreads its inevitable havoc. Oneupmanship
is practiced by both sides in a total war. First
the Larkins are ahead, then the Jerebohms. After Larkin has been persuaded
to restock his tangled acres with pheasants, he poaches only what
he needs for the nourishment of his family and local callers. One
of the local callers, a retired brigadier apparently left over from Kipling's
tales of India, does not approve of the way Larkin gets
his birds. He doesn't think that potting them from a deck chair
on the south side of the house with a quart glass of beer for sustenance
is entirely sporting. But the brigadier dines on the birds with
relish.

IT is truly odd and ironic that the most handsome and impressive
film yet made from Miguel de Cervantes' "Don Quixote"
is the brilliant Russian spectacle, done in wide screen and color,
which opened yesterday at the Fifty-fifth Street and Sixty-eighth Street
Playhouses. More than a beautiful visualization of the
illustrious adventures and escapades of the tragi-comic knight-errant
and his squire, Sancho Panza, in seventeenth-century Spain, this inevitably
abbreviated rendering of the classic satire on chivalry is an
affectingly warm and human exposition of character. #@#

Nikolai
Cherkasov, the Russian actor who has played such heroic roles as Alexander
Nevsky and Ivan the Terrible, performs the lanky Don Quixote,
and does so with a simple dignity that bridges the inner nobility
and the surface absurdity of this poignant man. His addle-brained
knight-errant, self-appointed to the ridiculous position in an
age when armor had already been relegated to museums and the chivalrous
code of knight-errantry had become a joke, is, as Cervantes no doubt
intended, a gaunt but gracious symbol of good, moving soberly and sincerely
in a world of cynics, hypocrites and rogues. Cherkasov
does not caricature him, as some actors have been inclined to do. He
treats this deep-eyed, bearded, bony crackpot with tangible affection
and respect. Directed by Grigory Kozintsev in a tempo that is
studiously
slow, he develops a sense of a high tradition shining brightly and
passing gravely through an impious world. The complexities
of communication have been considerably abetted in this case by appropriately
stilted English language that has been excellently dubbed in
place of the Russian dialogue. The voices of all the characters, including
that of Cherkasov, have richness, roughness or color to conform
with the personalities. And the subtleties of the dialogue are most
helpfully conveyed. Since Russian was being spoken instead of Spanish,
there is no violation of artistry or logic here. Splendid,
too, is the performance of Yuri Tolubeyev, one of Russia's leading
comedians, as Sancho Panza, the fat, grotesque "squire". Though
his character is broader and more comically rounded than the don,
he gives it a firmness and toughness- a sort of peasant dignity-
too. It is really as though the Russians have seen in this character
the
oftentimes underlying vitality and courage of supposed buffoons.

The episode in which Sancho Panza concludes the joke that is played
on him when he is facetiously put in command of an "island" is
one of the best in the film. #@#

True, the pattern and flow of

the drama have strong literary qualities that are a bit wearisome in
the first half, before Don Quixote goes to the duke's court. But
strength and poignancy develop thenceforth, and the windmill and deathbed
episodes gather the threads of realization of the wonderfulness of
the old boy. There are other good representations of peasants
and people of the court by actors who are finely costumed and magnificently
photographed in this last of the Russian films to reach this
country in the program of joint cultural exchange. Also on the
bill at the Fifty-fifth Street is a nice ten-minute color film called
"Sunday in Greenwich Village", a tour of the haunts and joints.

Television has yet to work out a living arrangement with jazz,

which comes to the medium more as an uneasy guest than as a relaxed member
of the family. There seems to be an unfortunate assumption
that an hour of Chicago-style jazz in prime evening time, for example,
could not be justified without the trimmings of a portentous documentary.
At least this seemed to be the working hypothesis for "Chicago
and All That Jazz", presented on ~NBC-~TV Nov&
26. The program came out of the ~NBC Special Projects department,
and was slotted in the Du Pont Show of the Week series.
Perhaps Special Projects necessarily thinks along documentary lines.
If so, it might be worth while to assign a future jazz show to a different
department- one with enough confidence in the musical material
to cut down on the number of performers and give them a little room
to display their talents. As a matter of fact, this latter approach
has already been tried, and with pleasing results. A few years
ago a
"Timex All-Star Jazz Show" offered a broad range of styles,
ranging from Lionel Hampton's big band to the free-wheeling
Dukes of Dixieland. An enthusiastic audience confirmed the "live"
character of the hour, and provided the interaction between musician
and hearer which almost always seems to improve the quality of performance.

About that same time John Crosby's ~TV series

on the popular arts proved again that giving jazz ample breathing space
is one of the most sensible things a producer can do. In an hour remembered
for its almost rudderless movement, a score of jazz luminaries
went before the cameras for lengthy periods. The program had been arranged
to permit the establishment of a mood of intense concentration
on the music. Cameras stared at soloists' faces in extreme closeups,
then considerately pulled back for full views of ensemble work.

"Chicago and All That Jazz" could not be faulted on the choice
of artists. Some of the in-person performers were Jack Teagarden,
Gene Krupa, Bud Freeman, Pee Wee Russell, Johnny St& Cyr,
Joe Sullivan, Red Allen, Lil Armstrong, Blossom Seeley. The
jazz buff could hardly ask for more. Furthermore, Garry Moore
makes an ideal master of ceremonies. (He played host at the Timex
show already mentioned.) One of the script's big problems
was how to blend pictures and music of the past with live performances
by musicians of today. ~NBC had gathered a lot of historical material
which it was eager to share. For example, there was sheet music
with the word "jazz" in the title,
to illustrate how a word of uncertain origin took hold. Samples
soomed into closeup range in regular succession, like telephone poles
passing on the highway, while representative music reinforced the mood
of the late teens and 1920's. However well chosen and cleverly
arranged, such memorabilia unfortunately amounted to more of an
interruption than an auxiliary to the evening's main business, which
(considering the talent at hand) should probably have been the gathering
of fresh samples of the Chicago style. Another source of
~NBC pride was its rare film clip of Bix Beiderbecke, but this
view of the great trumpeter flew by so fast that a prolonged wink would
have blotted out the entire glimpse. Similarly, in presenting still
photographs of early jazz groups, the program allowed no time for a
close perusal. "Chicago and All That Jazz" may have wound
up satisfying neither the confirmed fan nor the inquisitive newcomer.
By trying to be both a serious survey of a bygone era and a showcase
for today's artists, the program turned out to be a not-quite-perfect
example of either. Still, the network's willingness to experiment
in this musical field is to be commended, and future essays happily
anticipated.

Even Joan Sutherland may not have anticipated the tremendous

reception she received from the Metropolitan Opera audience attending
her debut as Lucia in Donizetti's "Lucia di Lammermoor" Sunday
night. The crowd staged its own mad scene in salvos of
cheers and applause and finally a standing ovation as Miss Sutherland
took curtain call after curtain call following a fantastic "Mad
Scene" created on her own and with the help of the composer and the
other performers. Her entrance in Scene 2, Act 1, brought some
disconcerting applause even before she had sung a note. Thereafter
the audience waxed applause-happy, but discriminating operagoers reserved
judgment as her singing showed signs of strain, her musicianship
some questionable procedure and her acting uncomfortable stylization.
As she gained composure during the second act, her technical resourcefulness
emerged stronger, though she had already revealed a trill almost
unprecedented in years of performances of "Lucia". She topped
the sextet brilliantly. Each high note had the crowd in ecstasy
so that it stopped the show midway in the "Mad Scene", but the
real reason was a realization of the extraordinary performance unfolding
at the moment. Miss Sutherland appeared almost as another person
in this scene: A much more girlish Lucia, a sensational coloratura
who ran across stage while singing, and an actress immersed in her
role. What followed the outburst brought almost breathless silence as
Miss Sutherland revealed her mastery of a voice probably unique among
sopranos today. This big, flexible voice with uncommon range
has been superbly disciplined. Nervousness at the start must have caused
the blemishes of her first scene, or she may warm up slowly. In
the fullness of her vocal splendor, however, she could sing the famous
scene magnificently. Technically it was fascinating, aurally
spell-binding, and dramatically quite realistic. Many years have passed
since a Metropolitan audience heard anything comparable. Her debut
over, perhaps the earlier scenes will emerge equally fine. The
performance also marked the debut of a most promising young conductor,
Silvio Varviso. He injected more vitality into the score than
it has revealed in many years. He may respect too much the Italian tradition
of letting singers hold on to their notes, but to restrain them
in a singers' opera may be quite difficult. Richard Tucker
sang Edgardo in glorious voice. His bel canto style gave the performance
a special distinction. The remainder of the cast fulfilled its
assignments no more than satisfactorily just as the old production and
limited stage direction proved only serviceable. Miss Sutherland
first sang Lucia at Covent Garden in 1959. (The first Metropolitan
Opera broadcast on Dec& 9 will introduce her as Lucia.)
She
has since turned to Bellini, whose opera "Beatrice di Tenda"
in a concert version with the American Opera Society introduced her
to New York last season. She will sing "La Sonambula" with
it here next week.

Anyone for musical Ping-pong? It's really quite fun-

as long as you like games. You will need a stereo music system,
with speakers preferably placed at least seven or eight feet apart, and
one or more of the new London "Phase 4" records. There are 12
of these to choose from, all of them of popular music except for the
star release, {Pass in Review} (~SP-44001). This features
the marching songs of several nations, recorded as though the various
national bands were marching by your reviewing stand. Complete with
crowd effects, interruptions by jet planes, and sundry other touches of
realism, this disc displays London's new technique to the best effect.

All of the jackets carry a fairly technical and detailed

explanation of this new recording program. No reference is made to the
possibility of recording other than popular music in this manner, and
it would not seem to lend itself well to serious music. Directionality
is greatly exaggerated most of the time; but when the sounds of
the two speakers are allowed to mix, there is excellent depth and dimension
to the music. You definitely hear some of the instruments close
up and others farther back, with the difference in placement apparently
more distinct than would result from the nearer instruments merely
being louder than the ones farther back. This is a characteristic of
good stereo recording and one of its tremendous advantages over monaural
sound. London explains that the very distinct directional
effect in the Phase 4 series is due in large part to their novel methods
of microphoning and recording the music on a number of separate tape
channels. These are then mixed by their sound engineers with the active
co-operation of the musical staff and combined into the final two
channels which are impressed on the record. In some of the numbers
the instrumental parts have even been recorded at different times and
then later combined on the master tape to produce special effects.

Some clue to the character of London's approach in these discs

may be gained immediately from the fact that ten of the 12 titles include
the word "percussion" or "percussive". Drums, xylophones,
castanets, and other percussive instruments are reproduced remarkably
well. Only too often, however, you have the feeling that you are sitting
in a room with some of the instruments lined up on one wall to your
left and others facing them on the wall to your right. They are definitely
in the same room with you, but your head starts to swing as
though you were sitting on the very edge of a tennis court watching a
spirited volley. {The Percussive Twenties} (~SP-44006)
stirs pleasant memories with well-known songs of that day, and Johnny
Keating's Kombo gives forth with tingling jazz in {Percussive
Moods} (~SP-44005). {Big Band Percussion} (~SP-44002)
seemed one of the least attractive discs- the arrangements just
didn't have so much character as the others. There is an extraordinary
sense of presence in all of these recordings, apparently obtained
at least in part by emphasizing the middle and high frequencies.
The penalty for this is noticeable in the big, bold, brilliant,
but brassy piano sounds in {Melody and Percussion for Two Pianos}
(~SP-44007). All of the releases, however, are recorded at a
gratifyingly high level, with resultant masking of any surface noise.
{Pass in Review} practically guarantees enjoyment, and is a dramatic
demonstration of the potentialities of any stereo music system.

Many Hollywood films manage somehow to be authentic, but not

realistic. Strange, but true- authenticity and realism often
aren't related at all. Almost every film bearing the imprimatur
of Hollywood is physically authentic- in fact, impeccably so. In
any given period piece the costumes, bric-a-brac, vehicles, and decor,
bear the stamp of unimpeachable authenticity. The major studios
maintain a cadre of film librarians and research specialists who
look to this matter. During the making recently of an important Biblical
film, some 40 volumes of research material and sketches not only
of costumes and interiors, but of architectural developments, sports
arenas, vehicles, and other paraphernalia were compiled, consulted, and
complied with. But, alas, the authenticity seems to stop at
the set's edge. The drama itself- and this seems to be lavishly true
of Biblical drama- often has hardly any relationship with authenticity
at all. The storyline, in sort, is wildly unrealistic.
Thus, in "The Story of Ruth" we have Ruth, Naomi, and Boaz
and sets that are meticulously authentic. But except for a vague adherence
to the basic storyline- i&e&, that Ruth remained with Naomi
and finally wound up with Boaz- the film version has little to
do with the Bible. And in the new "King of Kings" the
plot involves intrigues and twists and turns that cannot be traced to
the Gospels. Earlier this month Edward R& Murrow, director
of the United States Information Agency, came to Hollywood and
had dinner with more than 100 leaders of the motion picture industry.

He talked about unauthentic storylines too. He intimated that

they weren't doing the country much good in the Cold War. And
to an industry that prides itself on authenticity, he urged greater realism.

"in many corners of the globe", he said, "the major

source of impressions about this country are in the movies they meet.
Would we want a future-day Gibbon or Macaulay recounting the saga
of America with movies as his prime source of knowledge? Yet for
much of the globe, Hollywood is just that- prime, if not sole, source
of knowledge. If a man totally ignorant of America were to judge
our land and its civilization based on Hollywood alone, what conclusions
do you think he might come to?

Francois D'Albert, Hungarian-born violinist who made his

New York debut three years ago, played a return engagement last night
in Judson Hall. He is now president of the Chicago Conservatory
College. His pianist was Donald Jenni, a faculty member at DePaul
University. The acoustics of the small hall had been misgauged
by the artists, so that for the first half of the program, when
the
piano was partially open, Mr& Jenni's playing was too loud. In
vying with him, Mr& D'Albert also seemed to be overdriving his
tone. This was not an overriding drawback to enjoyment of the
performances, however, except in the case of the opening work, Mozart's
Sonata in ~A (K& 526), which clattered along noisily in
an unrelieved fashion. Brahm's Sonata in ~A, although also
vigorous, stood up well under the two artists' strong, large-scale
treatment. Mr& D'Albert has a firm, attractive tone, which eschews
an overly sweet vibrato. He made the most of the long Brahmsian
phrases, and by the directness and drive of his playing gave the work
a handsome performance. A Sonata for Violin and Piano, called
"Bella Bella", by Robert Fleming, was given its first United
States performance. The title refers to the nickname given his
wife by the composer, who is also a member of the National Film Board
of Canada. The work's two movements, one melodically sentimental,
the other brightly capricious, are clever enough in a Ravel-like
style, but they rehash a wornout idiom. They might well indicate conjugal
felicity, but in musical terms that smack of Hollywood. Works
by Dohnanyi, Hubay, Mr& D'Albert himself and Paganini,
indicated that the violinist had some virtuoso fireworks up his sleeve
as well as a reserved attitude toward a lyric phrase. Standard items
by Sarasate and Saint-Saens completed the program. @

IN recent years Anna Xydis has played with the New York
Philharmonic and at Lewisohn Stadium, but her program last night
at Town Hall was the Greek-born pianist's first New York recital
since 1948. Miss Xydis has a natural affinity for the keyboard,
and in the twenty years since her debut here she has gained the
authority and inner assurance that lead to audience control. And the
tone she commands is always beautiful in sound. Since she also
has considerable technical virtuosity and a feeling for music in the
romantic tradition, Miss Xydis gave her listeners a good deal of pleasure.
She played with style and a touch of the grand manner, and every
piece she performed was especially effective in its closing measures.
The second half of her program was devoted to Russian composers
of this century. It was in them that Miss Xydis was at her best.
The Rachmaninoff Prelude No& 12, Op& 32, for instance, gave
her an opportunity to exploit one of her special facilities- the
ability to produce fine deep-sounding bass tones while contrasting them
simultaneously with fine silver filagree in the treble. The
four Kabalevsky Preludes were also assured, rich in color and songful.
And the Prokofieff Seventh Sonata had the combination of romanticism
and modern bravura that Prokofieff needs. Miss
Xydis'
earlier selections were Mendelssohn's Variations Serieuses, in which
each variation was nicely set off from the others; Haydn's Sonata
in ~E minor, which was unfailingly pleasant in sound, and Chopin's
Sonata in ~B flat minor. A memory lapse in the last somewhat
marred the pianist's performance. So what was the deepest music
on her program had the poorest showing. Miss Xydis was best when
she did not need to be too probing.

ALL the generals who held important commands in World War

/2, did not write books. It only seems as if they did. And the
best books by generals were not necessarily the first ones written. One
of the very best is only now published in this country, five years
after its first publication in England. It is "Defeat Into Victory",
by Field Marshal Viscount Slim. A long book heavily
weighted with military technicalities, in this edition it is neither
so long nor so technical as it was originally. Field Marshal Slim
has abridged it for the benefit of "those who, finding not so great
an attraction in accounts of military moves and counter-moves, are more
interested in men and their reactions to stress, hardship and danger".
The man whose reactions and conclusions get the most space is, of
course, the Field Marshal himself. William Joseph Slim,
First Viscount Slim, former Governor General of Australia, was the
principal British commander in the field during the Burma War. He
had been a corps commander during the disastrous defeat and retreat
of 1942 when the ill-prepared, ill-equipped British forces "were outmaneuvered,
outfought and outgeneraled". He returned in command of
an international army of Gurkhas, Indians, Africans, Chinese and
British. And in a series of bitterly fought battles in the jungles
and hills and along the great rivers of Burma he waged one of the most
brilliant campaigns of the war. "The Forgotten War" his soldiers
called the Burma fighting because the war in Africa and Europe
enjoyed priorities in equipment and in headlines. Parts of "Defeat
Into Victory" are a tangle of Burmese place names and military
units, but a little application makes everything clear enough. On
the whole this is an interesting and exceptionally well-written book.
Field Marshal Slim is striking in description, amusing in many anecdotes.
He has a pleasant sense of humor and is modest enough to admit
mistakes and even "a cardinal error". He praises many individuals
generously. He himself seems to be tough, tireless, able and intelligent,
more intellectual and self-critical than most soldiers.

#REMAKING
AN ARMY TO WIN#

"Defeat Into Victory" is a dramatic

and lively military narrative. But it is most interesting in its account
of the unending problems of high command, of decisions and their
reasons, of the myriad matters that demand attention in addition to battle
action. Before he could return to Burma, Field Marshal
Slim had to rally the defeated remnants of a discouraged army and unite
them with fresh recruits. His remarks about training, discipline,
morale, leadership and command are enlightening. He believed in making
inspiring speeches and he made a great many. He believed in being
seen near the front lines and he was there. For general morale reasons
and to encourage the efforts of his supply officers, when food was
short for combat troops he cut the rations of his headquarters staff accordingly.

Other crucial matters required constant supervision:

labor and all noncombatant troops, whose morale was vital, too;
administrative organization and delicate diplomatic relations with
Top Brass- British, American and Chinese; health, hygiene, medical
aid and preventive medicine; hospitals (inadequate) and nurses
(scanty); food and military supplies; logistics and transport;
airdrops and airstrips; roads and river barges to be built.

#EXPECTED
OF A COMMANDER#

Commenting on these and other matters, Field

Marshal Slim makes many frank and provocative remarks: "When
in doubt as to two courses of action, a general should choose the
bolder". "The commander has failed in <his> duty if he
has not won victory- for that <is> his duty". "It only
does harm to talk to troops about new and desirable equipment which
others may have but which you cannot give them. It depresses them. So
I made no mention of air transport until we could get at least some
of it". Field Marshal Slim is more impressed by the courage
of Japanese soldiers than he is by the ability of their commanders.
Of the Japanese private he says: "He fought and marched till
he died. If 500 Japanese were ordered to hold a position, we had to
kill 495 before it was ours- and then the last five killed themselves".

Brooding about future wars, the Field Marshal has this

to say: "The Asian fighting man is at least equally brave [as
the white], usually more careless of death, less encumbered by mental
doubts, less troubled by humanitarian sentiment, and not so moved by
slaughter and mutilation around him. He is, by background and living
standards, better fitted to endure hardship uncomplainingly, to demand
less in the way of subsistence or comfort, and to look after himself
when thrown on his own resources".

A bunch of young buckaroos from out West, who go by the name

of Texas Boys Choir, loped into Town Hall last night and succeeded
in corralling the hearts of a sizable audience. Actually, the
program they sang was at least two-thirds serious and high-minded,
and they sang it beautifully. Under the capable direction of the choir's
founder, Geroge Bragg, the twenty-six boys made some lovely sounds
in an opening group of Renaissance and baroque madrigals and motets,
excerpts from Pergolesi's "Stabat Mater" and all of the
Britten "Ceremonial of Carols". Their singing was well-balanced,
clear and, within obvious limitations, extremely pleasing. The
limitations are those one expects from untrained and unsettled voices-
an occasional shrillness of almost earsplitting intensity, an occasional
waver and now and then a bleat. But Mr& Bragg is
a remarkably gifted conductor, and the results he has produced with
his boys are generally superior. Most surprising of all, he has accomplished
some prodigies in training for the production of words. The Latin,
for example, was not only clear; it was even beautiful.

Furthermore, there were solid musical virtues in the interpretation

of the music. Lines came out neatly and in good balance. Tempos were
lively. The piano accompaniments by Istvan Szelenyi were stylish.

A boy soprano named Dixon Boyd sang a Durante solo motet and
a few other passages enchantingly. Other capable soloists included
David Clifton, Joseph Schockler and Pat Thompson. The final
group included folk songs from back home, stomped out, shouted and
chanted with irresistible spirit and in cowboy costume. Boys will be
boys, and Texans will be Texans. The combination proved quite irresistible
last night. @

THE Polish song and dance company called Mazowsze, after

the region of Poland, where it has its headquarters, opened a three-week
engagement at the City Center last night. A thoroughly ingratiating
company it is, and when the final curtain falls you may suddenly
realize that you have been sitting with a broad grin on your face all
evening. Not that it is all funny, by any means, though some
of it is definitely so, but simply that the dancers are young and handsome,
high-spirited and communicative, and the program itself is as vivacious
as it is varied. There is no use at all in trying to follow
it dance by dance and title by title, for it has a kind of nonstop format,
and moves along in an admirable continuity that demands no pauses
for identification. The material is all basically of folk origin,
gleaned from every section of Poland. But under the direction of
Mira Ziminska-Sygietynska, who with her late husband founded the
organization in 1948, it has all been put into theatrical form, treated
selectively, choreographed specifically for presentation to spectators,
and performed altogether professionally. Under the surface of the
wide range of folk movements is apparent a sound technical ballet training,
and an equally professional sense of performing. #@#

Since
the organization was created thirteen years ago, it is obvious that
this is not the original company; it is more likely the sons and daughters
of that company. The girls are charming children and the men
are wonderfully vital and engaging youngsters. The stage is constantly
full of them; indeed, there are never fewer than eight of them on
stage, and that is only for the more intimate numbers. They can be exuberant
or sentimental, flirtatious or funny, but the only thing they
seem unable to be is dull. To pick out particular numbers is
something of a problem, but one or two identifiable items are too conspicuously
excellent to be missed. There is for example, a stunning Krakowiak
that closes the first act; the mazurka choreographed by Witold
Zapala to music from Moniuszko's opera, "Strasny Dwor',
may be the most beautiful mazurka you are likely ever to see; there
is an enchanting polonaise; and the dances and songs from the Tatras
contain a magnificent dance for the men. Everywhere there are
little touches of humor, and the leader of the on-stage band of musicians
is an ebullient comedian who plays all sorts of odd instruments
with winning warmth.

The {THEATRE-BY-THE-SEA}, Matunuck, presents "King

of
Hearts" by Jean Kerr and Eleanor Brooke. Directed by Michael
Murray; settings by William David Roberts. The cast: @
Producer John Holmes has chosen a delightful comedy for his season's
opener at Matunuck in Jean Kerr's "King of Hearts".

The dialogue is sharp, witty and candid- typical "don't eat

the daisies" material- which has stamped the author throughout her
books and plays, and it was obvious that the Theatre-by-the-Sea audience
liked it. The story is of a famous strip cartoonist, an
arty individual, whose specialty is the American boy and who adopts
a 10-year-old to provide him with fresh idea material. This is
when his troubles begin, not to mention a fiedgling artist who he hires,
and who turns out to have ideas of his own, with particular respect
to the hero's sweetheart-secretary. John Heffernan, playing
Larry Larkin, the cartoonist, carries the show in marvelous fashion.
His portrayal of an edgy head-in-the-clouds artist is virtually flawless.

This may be unfortunate, perhaps, from the standpoint

of David Hedison, Providence's contribution to Hollywood, who is
appearing by special arrangement with 20th Century-Fox. Not that
Mr& Hedison does not make the most of his role. He does, and more.
But the book is written around a somewhat dizzy cartoonist, and it
has to be that way. A word should be said for Gary Morgan, a
Broadway youngsters who, as the adopted son, makes life miserable for
nearly everybody and Larkin in particular. And for his playmate, Francis
Coletta of West Warwick, who has a bit part, Billy.
On the whole, audiences will like this performance. It is a tremendous
book, lively, constantly moving, and the Matunuck cast does well
by it.

The {NEWPORT PLAYHOUSE} presents {"EPITAPH FOR

GEORGE DILLON"}
by John Osborne and Anthony Creighton, directed by Wallace
Gray. The cast: @ The angriest young man in
Newport last night was at the Playhouse, where "Epitaph for George
Dillon" opened as the jazz festival closed. For the hero
of this work by John Osborne and Anthony Creighton is a chap embittered
by more than the lack of beer during a jam session. He's mad
at a world he did not make. Furthermore, he's something of
a scoundrel, an artist whose mind and feelings are all finger-tips.
This is in contrast to the family with whom he boards. They not only
think and feel cliches but live cliches as well. It is into this
household, one eroded by irritations that have tortured the souls
out of its people, that George Dillon enters at the beginning of the
play. An unsuccessful playwright and actor, he has faith only
in himself and in a talent he is not sure exists. By the end of the
third act, the artist is dead but the body lingers on, a shell among other
shells. Not altogether a successful play, "Epitaph for
George Dillon" overcomes through sheer vitality and power what in
a lesser work might be crippling. It is awfully talky, for instance,
and not all of the talk is terribly impressive. But it strikes sparks
on occasion and their light causes all else to be forgotten.
There is a fine second act, as an example, one in which Samuel Groom,
as Dillon, has an opportunity to blaze away in one impassioned passage
after another. This is an exciting young actor to watch.
Just as exciting but in a more technically proficient way is Laura Stuart,
whose complete control of her every movement is lovely to watch.
Miss Stuart is as intensely vibrant as one could wish, almost an
icy shriek threatening to explode at any moment. Also fine are
Sue Lawless, as a mother more protective and belligerent than a female
spider and just as destructive, Harold Cherry, as her scratchy
spouse, and Hildy Weissman, as a vegetable in human form. Wallace
Gray has directed a difficult play here, usually well, but with
just a bit too much physical movement in the first act for my taste.
Still, his finale is put together with taste and a most sensitive projection
of that pale sustenance, despair.

The {WARWICK MUSICAL THEATER} presents {"Where's

Charley?"} with music and lyrics by Frank Loesser, directed
by Christopher Hewett, choreography by Peter Conlow, musical direction
by Samuel Matlowsky. The cast: @ Everybody fell
in love with Amy again last night at the Warwick Musical Theater,
and Shelley Berman was to blame. One of the finest soft shoe
tunes ever invented, "Once in Love with Amy" is also, of course,
one of the most tantalizingly persistent of light love lyrics to come
out of American musical comedy in our era. So the audience last
night was all ears and eyes just after Act /2, got a rousing opening
chorus, "Where's Charley?", and Berman sifted out all alone
on the stage with the ambling chords and beat of the song just whispering
into being. It is greatly to Berman's credit that he
made no attempt to outdo Ray Bolger. He dropped his earlier and delightful
hamming, which is about the only way to handle the old war horse
called "Charley's Aunt", and let himself go with as an appealing
an "Amy" as anybody could ask. In brief, Berman played
himself and not Bolger. The big audience started applauding even
before he had finished. The whole production this week is fresh
and lively. The costumes are stunning evocations of the voluminous
gowns and picture hats of the Gibson Girl days. The ballet work
is on the nose, especially in the opening number by "The New Ashmolean
Marching Society and Students' Conservatory Band", along
with a fiery and sultry Brazilian fantasia later. Berman, whose
fame has rested in recent years on his skills as a night club monologist,
proved himself very much at home in musical comedy. Sparrow-size
Virginia Gibson, with sparkling blue eyes and a cheerful
smile, made a suitably perky Amy, while Melisande Congdon, as the real
aunt, was positively
monumental in the very best Gibson Girl manner.

All told, "Where's Charley?" ought not to be missed.

It has a fast pace, excellent music, expert direction, and not only
a good comedian, but an appealing person in his own right, Mr&
Berman.

The Broadway Theater League of Rhode Island presents C&

Edwin Knill's and Martin Tahse's production of {"FIORELLO!"}
at Veterans Memorial Auditorium. The book is by Jerome
Weidman and George Abbott, music by Jerry Bock, lyrics by Sheldon
Harnick, choreography by Peter Gennaro, scenery, costumes and
lighting by William and Jean Eckart, musical direction by Jack Elliott,
and the production was directed by Mr& Abbott. The cast:
@ This is one of the happier events of the season.
The company which performed the Pulitzer Prize musical here last night
and will repeat it twice today is full of bounce, the politicians
are in fine voice, the chorines evoke happy memories, and the Little
Flower rides to break a lance again. I saw "Fiorello!"
performed in New York by the original cast and I think this company
is every bit as good, and perhaps better. Certainly in the matter
of principals there is nothing lacking. Bob Carroll may not bear
quite as close a physical resemblance to LaGuardia as Tom Bosley
does, but I was amazed at the way he became more and more Fiorello
as the evening progressed, until one had to catch one's self up and
remember that this wasn't really LaGuardia come back among us again.

Then Rudy Bond was simply grand as Ben, the distraught

Republican Party district chieftain. And Paul Lipson, as Morris,
the faithful one who never gets home to his Shirley's dinner, was
fine, too. As for the ladies, they were full of charm, and sincerity,
and deep and abiding affection for this hurrying driving, honest,
little man. Charlotte Fairchild was excellent as the loyal Marie,
who became the second Mrs& LaGuardia, singing and acting with
remarkable conviction. Jen Nelson, as Thea, his first wife, managed
to make that short role impressive. And little Zeme North, a Dora
with real spirit and verve, was fascinating whether she was singing of
her love for Floyd, the cop who becomes sewer commissioner and then
is promoted into garbage, or just dancing to display her exuberant feelings.

Such fascinating novelties in the score as the fugual

treatment of "On the Side of the Angels" and "Politics and Poker"
were handled splendidly, and I thought Rudy Bond and his band
of tuneful ward-heelers made "Little Tin Box" even better than
it was done by the New York cast; all the words of its clever
lyrics came through with perfect clarity. The party at Floyd's
penthouse gave the "chorines" a chance for a nostalgic frolic
through all those hackneyed routines which have become a classic choreographic
statement of the era's nonsense. LaGuardia's multi-lingual
rallies, when he is running for Congress, are well staged,
and wind up in a wild Jewish folk-dance that is really great musical
theater. Martin Tahse has established quite a reputation for
himself as a successful stager of touring productions. Not a corner
has been visibly cut in this one. The sets are remarkably elaborate
for a road-show that doesn't pause long in any one place, and they
are devised so that they shift with a minimum of interruption or obtrusiveness.
(Several times recently I have wondered whether shows were
being staged for the sake of the script or just to entertain the audience
with the spectacle of scenery being shifted right in front of their
eyes. I'm glad to say there's none of that distraction in this
"Fiorello!") It has all been done in superb style,
and the result is a show which deserves the support of every person hereabouts
who enjoys good musical theater.

{LOEW'S THEATER} presents {"Where the Boys are"},

an ~MGM picture produced by Joe Pasternak and directed
by Henry Levin from a screenplay by George Wells. The cast: @

Since the hero, a sterling and upright fellow, is a rich Brown

senior, while two Yalies are cast as virtual rapists, I suppose
I should disqualify myself from sitting in judgment on "Where the
Boys are", but I shall do nothing of the sort. Instead-
and not just to prove my objectivity- I hasten to report that it's
a highly amusing film which probably does a fairly accurate job of
reporting on the Easter vacation shenanigans of collegians down in Fort
Lauderdale, and that it seems to come to grips quite honestly with
the moral problem that most commonly vexes youngsters in this age group-
that is to say, sex. The answers the girls give struck
me as reasonably varied and healthily individual. If most of them weren't
exactly specific- well, that's the way it is in life, I guess.
But at least it's reassuring to see some teenagers who don't
profess to know all the answers and are thinking about their problems
instead. "Where the Boys Are" also has a juvenile bounce
that makes for a refreshing venture in comedy. There are some sharp
and whipping lines and some hilariously funny situations- the best
of the latter being a mass impromptu plunge into a nightclub tank where
a "mermaid" is performing. Most of the female faces are
new, or at least not too familiar. Dolores Hart, is charming in a leading
role, and quite believable. I was delighted with Paula Prentiss'
comedy performance, which was as fresh and unstilted as one's
highest hopes might ask. A couple of the males made good comedy, too-
Jim Hutton and Frank Gorshin. The only performance which
was too soft for me was that of Yvette Mimieux, but since someone
had to become the victim of despoilers, just to emphasize that such things
do happen at these fracases, I suppose this was the attitude the
part called for. I must say, however, that I preferred the acting that
had something of a biting edge to it. To anyone who remembers
Newport at its less than maximum violence, this view of what the
boys and girls do in the springtime before they wing north for the Jazz
Festival ought to prove entertaining. The second feature,
{"The Price of Silence"}, is a British detective story that
will talk your head off.

The superb intellectual and spiritual vitality of William James

was never more evident than in his letters. Here was a man with an
enormous gift for living as well as thinking. To both persons and ideas
he brought the same delighted interest, the same open-minded relish
for what was unique in each, the same discriminating sensibility and
quicksilver intelligence, the same gallantry of judgment. For
this latest addition to the Great Letters Series, under the general
editorship of Louis Kronenberger, Miss Hardwick has made a selection
which admirably displays the variety of James's genius, not
to mention the felicities of his style. And how he could <write!>
His famous criticism of brother Henry's "third style" is surely
as subtly, even elegantly, worded an analysis of the latter's intricate
air castles as Henry himself could ever have produced. His letter
to his daughter on the pains of growing up is surely as trenchant,
forthright, and warmly understanding a piece of advice as ever a grown-up
penned to a sensitive child, and with just the right tone of unpatronizing
good humor. #@#

Most of all, his letters to his philosophic

colleagues show a magnanimity as well as an honesty which help
to explain Whitehead's reference to James as "that adorable genius".
Miss Hardwick speaks of his "superb gift for intellectual
friendship", and it is certainly a joy to see the intellectual life
lived so free from either academic aridity or passionate dogmatism.

This is a virtue of which we have great need in a society where

there seems to be an increasing lack of communication- or even desire
for communication- between differing schools of thought. It holds
an equally valuable lesson for a society where the word "intellectual"
has become a term of opprobrium to millions of well-meaning people
who somehow imagine that it must be destructive of the simpler human
virtues. To his Harvard colleague, Josiah Royce, whose philosophic
position differed radically from his own, James could write,
"Different as our minds are, yours has nourished mine, as no other
social influence ever has, and in converse with you I have always felt
that my life was being lived importantly". Of another colleague,
George Santayana, he could write: "The great event in
my life recently has been the reading of Santayana's book. Although
I absolutely reject the Platonism of it, I have literally squealed
with delight at the imperturbable perfection with which the position
is laid down on page after page". #@#

Writing to his colleague

George Herbert Palmer- "Glorious old Palmer", as he addresses
him- James says that if only the students at Harvard could really
understand Royce, Santayana, Palmer, and himself and see that
their varying systems are "so many religions, ways of fronting life,
and worth fighting for", then Harvard would have a genuine philosophic
universe. "The best condition of it would be an open conflict
and rivalry of the diverse systems **h. The world might ring with the
struggle, if we devoted ourselves exclusively to belaboring each other".

The "belaboring" is of course jocular, yet James was

not lacking in fundamental seriousness- unless we measure him by
that ultimate seriousness of the great religious leader or thinker who
stakes all on his vision of God. To James this vision never quite
came, despite his appreciation of it in others. But there is a
dignity and even a hint of the inspired prophet in his words to one
correspondent:
"You ask what I am going to 'reply' to Bradley.
But why need one reply to everything and everybody? **h I think
that readers generally hate <minute> polemics and recriminations.
All polemic of ours should, I believe, be either very broad statements
of contrast, or fine points treated singly, and as far as possible
impersonally **h. As far as the rising generation goes, why not simply
express ourselves positively, and trust that the truer view quietly
will displace the other. Here again 'God will know his own'".

The collected works of James Thurber, now numbering 25 volumes

(including the present exhibit) represent a high standard of literary
excellence, as every schoolboy knows. The primitive-eclogue quality
of his drawings, akin to that of graffiti scratched on a cave wall,
is equally well known. About all that remains to be said is that the
present selection, most of which appeared first in The New Yorker,
comprises (as usual) a slightly unstrung necklace, held together by little
more than a slender thread cunningly inserted in the spine of the
book. The one unifying note, if any, is sounded in the initial
article entitled: "How to Get Through the Day". It is repeated
at intervals in some rather sadly desperate word-games for insomniacs,
the hospitalized, and others forced to rely on inner resources,
including (in the ~P's alone) "palindromes", "paraphrases",
and "parodies". "The Tyranny of Trivia" suggests
arbitrary alphabetical associations to induce slumber. And new vistas
of hairshirt asceticism are opened by scholarly monographs entitled:
"Friends, Romans, Countrymen, Lend Me Your Ear-Muffs",
"Such a Phrase as Drifts Through Dream", and "The New Vocabularianism".
Some of Thurber's curative methods involve strong
potions of mixed metaphor, malapropism, and gobbledygook and are recommended
for use only in extreme cases. #@#

A burlesque paean
entitled: "Hark the Herald Tribune, Times, and All the Other
Angels Sing" brilliantly succeeds in exaggerating even motion-picture
ballyhooey. "How the Kooks Crumble" features an amusingly
accurate take-off on sneaky announcers who attempt to homogenize radio-~TV
commercials, and "The Watchers of the Night" is a veritable
waking nightmare. A semi-serious literary document entitled
"The Wings of Henry James" is noteworthy, if only for a keenly
trenchant though little-known comment on the master's difficult
later period by modest Owen Wister, author of "The Virginian".
James, he remarks in a letter to a friend, "is attempting the impossible
**h namely, to produce upon the reader, as a painting produces
upon the gazer, a number of superimposed, simultaneous impressions. He
would like to put several sentences on top of each other so that you
could read them all at once, and get all at once, the various shadings
and complexities". Equally penetrating in its fashion is
the following remark by a lady in the course of a literary conversation:
"So much has already been written about everything that you can't
find out anything about it". Or the mildly epigrammatic utterance
(also a quotation): "Woman's place is in the wrong". Who
but Thurber can be counted on to glean such nectareous essences?

A tribute to midsummer "bang-sashes" seems terribly funny,

though it would be hard to explain why. "One of them banged the sash
of the window nearest my bed around midnight in July and I leaped
out of sleep and out of bed. 'It's just a bat' said my wife reassuringly,
and I sighed with relief. 'Thank God for that' I said;
'I thought it was a human being'". #@#

In a sense,
perhaps, Thurber is indebted artistically to the surrealist painter
(was it Salvador Dali?) who first conceived the startling fancy of
a picture window in the abdomen. That is, it is literally a picture
window: you don't see into the viscera; you see a picture- trees,
or flowers. This is something like what Thurber's best effects
are like, if I am not mistaken. Though no longer able to turn
out his protoplasmic pen-and-ink sketches (several old favorites are
scattered through the present volume) Thurber has retained unimpaired
his vision of humor as a thing of simple, unaffected humanness. In
his concluding paragraph he writes: "The devoted writer of humor
will continue to try to come as close to truth as he can". For many
readers Thurber comes closer than anyone else in sight.

The latest Low is a puzzler. The master's hand has lost none
of its craft. He is at his usual best in exposing the shams and self-deceptions
of political and diplomatic life in the fifties. The reader
meets a few old friends like Blimp and the ~TUC horse, and
becomes better acquainted with new members of the cast of characters like
the bomb itself, and civilization in her classic robe watching the
nuclear arms race, her hair standing straight out. But there
is a difference between the present volume and the early Low. There
is fear in the fifties as his title suggests and as his competent drawings
show. But there was terror in the thirties when the Nazis were
on the loose and in those days Low struck like lightning. #@#

Anyone
can draw his own conclusions from this difference. It might be
argued that the Communists are less inhuman than the Nazis and furnish
the artist with drama in a lower key. But this argument cannot be
pushed very far because the Communist system makes up for any shortcomings
of its leaders in respect to corrosion. The Communists wield
a power unknown to Hitler. And the leading issue, that of piecemeal
aggression, remains the same. This is drama enough. Do we ourselves
offer Mr& Low less of a crusade? In the thirties we would
not face our enemy; that was a nightmarish situation and Low was
in his element. Now we have stood up to the Communists; we are stronger
and more self-confident- and Low cannot so easily put us to rights.
Or does the reason for less Jovian drawings lie elsewhere?
It might be that Low has seen too many stupidities and that they
do not outrage him now. He writes, "Confucius held that in times
of stress one should take short views- only up to lunchtime".

Whatever the cause, his mood in the fifties rarely rises above
the level of the capably sardonic. Dulles? He does not seem to have
caught the subtleties of the man. McCarthy? The skies turn dark
but the clouds do not loose their wrath. Suez? Low seems to have
supported Eden at first and then relented because things worked out differently,
so there is no fire in his eye. #@#

Stalin's death,
Churchill's farewell to public life, Hillary and Tensing on Everest,
Quemoy and Matsu- all subjects for a noble anger or an accolade.
Instead the cartoons seem to deal with foibles. Their Eisenhower
is insubstantial. Did Low decide to let well enough alone when
he made his selections? He often drew the bomb. He showed puny
men attacked by splendidly tyrannical machines. And Khrushchev turned
out to be prime copy for the most witty caricaturist of them all.
But, but and but. Look in this book for weak mortals and only
on occasion for virtues and vices on the heroic scale. Read the moderately
brief text, not for captions, sometimes for tart epigrams, once
in a while for an explosion in the middle of your fixed ideas.

A gray fox with a patch on one eye- confidence man, city slicker,
lebensraum specialist- tries to take over Catfish Bend in this
third relaxed allegory from Mr& Burman's refreshing Louisiana
animal community. The fox is all ingratiating smiles when he
arrives from New Orleans, accompanied by one wharf rat. But like all
despots, as he builds his following from among the gullible, he grows
more threatening toward those who won't follow- such solid citizens
as Doc Raccoon; Judge Black, the vegetarian black snake;
and the eagle, who leads the bird community when he is not too busy in
Washington posing for fifty-cent pieces. As soon as the fox
has taken hold on most of the populace he imports more wharf rats, who,
of course, say they are the aggrieved victims of an extermination
campaign
in the city. (The followers of bullies invariably are aggrieved
about the very things
they plan to do to others.) They train the mink
and other animals to fight. And pretty soon gray fox is announcing that
he won't have anyone around that's against him, and setting out
to break his second territorial treaty with the birds. Robert
Hillyer, the poet, writes in his introduction to this brief animal
fable that Mr& Burman ought to win a Nobel Prize for the Catfish
Bend series. He may have a point in urging that decadent themes be
given fewer prizes. But it's hard to imagine Mr& Burman as a Nobel
laureate on the basis of these charming but not really momentous
fables. In substance they lie somewhere between the Southern
dialect animal stories of Joel Chandler Harris (Uncle Remus) and
the polished, witty fables of James Thurber.

George Kennan's account of relations between Russia and the

West from the fall of Tsarism to the end of World War /2, is the
finest piece of diplomatic history that has appeared in many years.
It combines qualities that are seldom found in one work: Scrupulous
scholarship, a fund of personal experience, a sense of drama and characterization
and a broad grasp of the era's great historical issues.

In short, the book, based largely on lectures delivered at Harvard

University, is both reliable and readable; the author possesses
an uncommonly fine English style, and he is dealing with subjects
of vast importance that are highly topical for our time. If Mr&
Kennan is sometimes a little somber in his appraisals, if his analysis
of how Western diplomacy met the challenge of an era of great wars
and social revolutions is often critical and pessimistic- well, the
record itself is not too encouraging. Mr& Kennan takes careful
account of every mitigating circumstance in recalling the historical
atmosphere in which mistaken decisions were taken. But he rejects,
perhaps a little too sweepingly, the theory that disloyal and pro-Communist
influences may have contributed to the policy of appeasing Stalin
which persisted until after the end of the war and reached its high
point at the Yalta Conference in February, 1945. After all,
Alger Hiss, subsequently convicted of perjury in denying that he
gave secret State Department documents to Soviet agents, was at Yalta.
And Harry Dexter White, implicated in F&B&I& reports
in Communist associations, was one of the architects of the Morgenthau
Plan, which had it ever been put into full operation, would have
simply handed Germany to Stalin. One item in this unhappy scheme was
to have Germany policed exclusively by its continental neighbors,
among whom only the Soviet Union possessed real military strength.

It is quite probable, however, that stupidity, inexperience and

childish adherence to slogans like "unconditional surrender" had
more to do with the unsatisfactory settlements at the end of the war than
treason or sympathy with Communism. Mr& Kennan sums up his judgment
of what went wrong this way:

#DASHED HOPE#

"You see,
first of all and in a sense as the source of all other ills, the unshakeable
American commitment to the principle of unconditional surrender:
The tendency to view any war in which we might be involved not as
a means of achieving limited objectives in the way of changes in a given
status quo, but as a struggle to the death between total virtue and
total evil, with the result that the war had absolutely to be fought
to the complete destruction of the enemy's power, no matter what disadvantages
or complications this might involve for the more distant
future". Recognizing that there could have been no effective
negotiated peace with Hitler, he points out the shocking failure to
give support to the anti-Nazi underground, which very nearly eliminated
Hitler in 1944. A veteran diplomat with an extraordinary knowledge
of Russian language, history and literature, Kennan recalls how, at
the time of Hitler's attack on the Soviet Union in 1941, he penned
a private note to a State Department official, expressing the hope
that "never would we associate ourselves with Russian purposes in
the areas of eastern Europe beyond her own boundaries". The
hope was vain. With justified bitterness the author speaks of "what
seems to me to have been an inexcusable body of ignorance about the
nature of the Russian Communist movement, about the history of its
diplomacy, about what had happened in the purges, and about what had
been going on in Poland and the Baltic States". He also speaks of
Franklin D& Roosevelt's "puerile" assumption that "if only
he (Stalin) could be exposed to the persuasive charm of someone
like F&D&R& himself, ideological preconceptions would melt and
Russia's co-operation with the West could be easily arranged".

No wonder Khrushchev's first message to President Kennedy

was a wistful desire for the return of the "good old days" of Roosevelt.

This fascinating story begins with a sketch, rich in

personal detail, of the glancing mutual impact of World War /1, and
the two instalments of the Russian Revolution. The first of these
involved the replacement of the Tsar by a liberal Provisional Government
in March, 1917; the second, the seizure of power by the Bolsheviks
(who later called themselves Communists) in November of the
same year. As Kennan shows, the judgment of the Allied governments
about what was happening in Russia was warped by the obsession
of defeating Germany. They were blind to the evidence that nothing
could keep the Russian people fighting. They attributed everything
that went wrong in Russia to German influence and intrigue. This,
more than any other factor, led to the fiasco of Allied intervention.
As the author very justly says: "Had a world war not been
in progress, there would never, under any conceivable stretch of the
imagination, have been an Allied intervention in North Russia".
The scope and significance of this intervention have been grossly exaggerated
by Communist propaganda; here Kennan, operating with precise
facts and figures, performs an excellent job of debunking.

#PLEBIAN
DICTATORS#

Of many passages in the book that exemplify the author's

vivid style, the characterizations of the two plebeian dictators
whose crimes make those of crowned autocrats pale by comparison may
be selected. On Stalin: "This was a man of incredible criminality,
of a criminality effectively without limits; a man apparently
foreign to the very experience of love, without mercy or pity;
a man in whose entourage none was ever safe; a man whose hand was set
against all that could not be useful to him at the moment; a man who
was most dangerous of all to those who were his closest collaborators
in crime **h". And here is Kennan's image of Hitler,
Stalin's
temporary collaborator in the subjugation and oppression of
weaker peoples, and his later enemy: "Behind that Charlie
Chaplin moustache and that truant lock of hair that always covered
his forehead, behind the tirades and the sulky silences, the passionate
orations and the occasional dull evasive stare, behind the prejudices,
the cynicism, the total amorality of behavior, behind even the tendency
to great strategic mistakes, there lay a statesman of no mean qualities:
Shrewd, calculating, in many ways realistic, endowed- like
Stalin- with considerable powers of dissimulation, capable of playing
his cards very close to his chest when he so desired, yet bold and
resolute in his decisions, and possessing one gift Stalin did not
possess: The ability to rouse men to fever pitch of personal devotion
and enthusiasm by the power of the spoken word". Two criticisms
of this generally admirable and fascinating book involve the treatment
of wartime diplomacy which is jagged at the edges- there is
no mention of the Potsdam Conference or the Morgenthau Plan. And
in a concluding chapter about America's stance in the contemporary
world, one senses certain misplacements of emphasis and a failure to come
to grips with the baffling riddle of our time: How to deal with
a wily and aggressive enemy without appeasement and without war.
But one should not ask for everything. Mr& Kennan, who has recently
abandoned authorship for a new round of diplomacy as the recently
appointed American ambassador to Yugoslavia, is not the only man who
finds it easier to portray the past than to prescribe for the future.
The story of a quarter of a century of Soviet-Western relations
is vitally important, and it is told with the fire of a first-rate historical
narrator.
The Ireland we usually hear about in the theater is a place of bitter
political
or domestic unrest, lightened occasionally with flashes of native wit
and charm. In "Donnybrook", there is quite a different Eire, a
rural land where singing, dancing, fist-fighting and romancing are the
thing. There is plenty of violence, to be sure, but it is a nice violence
and no one gets killed. By and large, Robert McEnroe's adaptation
of Maurice Walsh's film, "The Quiet Man", provides
the entertainment it set out to, and we have a lively musical show if
not a superlative one. _@_ This is the tale of one John Enright,
an American who has accidentally killed a man in the prize ring
and is now trying to forget about it in a quiet place where he may become
a quiet man. But Innesfree, where Ellen Roe Danaher and her
bullying brother, Will, live, is no place for a man who will not use
his fists. So Enright's courting of the mettlesome Ellen is impeded
considerably, thereby providing the tale which is told. You may be
sure he marries her in the end and has a fine old knockdown fight with
the brother, and that there are plenty of minor scraps along the way
to ensure that you understand what the word Donnybrook means.
Then there is a matchmaker, one Mikeen Flynn, a role for which Eddie
Foy was happily selected. Now there is no reason in the world why
a matchmaker in Ireland should happen also to be a talented soft-shoe
dancer and gifted improviser of movements of the limbs, torso and neck,
except that these talents add immensely to the enjoyment of the play.
Mr& Foy is a joy, having learned his dancing by practicing it
until he is practically perfect. His matchmaking is, naturally, incidental,
and it only serves Flynn right when a determined widow takes
him by the ear and leads him off to matrimony. Art Lund, a fine
big actor with a great head of blond hair and a good voice, impersonates
Enright. Although he is not graced with the subtleties of romantic
technique, that's not what an ex-prize fighter is supposed to have,
anyway. Joan Fagan, a fiery redhead who can impress you that she
has a temper whether she really has one or not, plays Ellen, and sings
the role very well, too. If the mettle which Ellen exhibits has
a bit of theatrical dross in it, never mind; she fits into the general
scheme well enough. Susan Johnson, as the widow, spends the
first half of the play running a bar and singing about the unlamented
death of her late husband and the second half trying to acquire a new
one. She has a good, firm delivery of songs and adds to the solid virtues
of the evening. Then there are a pair of old biddies played
by Grace Carney and Sibly Bowan who may be right off the shelf
of stock Irish characters, but they put such a combination of good
will and malevolence into their parts that they're quite entertaining.
And in the role of Will Danaher, Philip Bosco roars and sneers
sufficiently to intimidate not only one American but the whole British
army, if he chose. "Donnybrook" is no "Brigadoon",
but it does have some very nice romantic background touches and some
excellent dancing. The ballads are sweet and sad, and the music generally
competent. It sometimes threatens to linger in the memory after
the final curtain, and some of it, such as the catchy "Sez I",
does. "A Toast To The Bride", sung by Clarence Nordstrom, playing
a character called Old Man Toomey, is quite simple, direct and
touching. The men of Innesfree are got up authentically in
cloth caps and sweaters, and their dancing and singing is fine. So is
that of the limber company of lasses who whirl and glide and quickstep
under Jack Cole's expert choreographic direction. The male dancers
sometimes wear kilts and their performance in them is spirited and
stimulating. Rouben Ter-Arutunian, in his stage settings,
often uses the scrim curtain behind which Mr& Cole has placed couples
or groups who sing and set the mood for the scenes which are to follow.
There is no reason why most theatergoers should not have a pretty
good time at "Donnybrook", unless they are permanently in the
mood of Enright when he sings about how easily he could hate the lovable
Irish.

WE can all breathe more easily this morning- more easily

and joyously, too- because Joshua Logan has turned the stage show,
"Fanny", into a delightful and heart-warming film. The
task of taking the raw material of Marcel Pagnol's original trio
of French films about people of the waterfront in Marseilles and putting
them again on the screen, after their passage through the Broadway
musical idiom, was a delicate and perilous one, indeed. More than
the fans of Pagnol's old films and of their heroic star, the great
Raimu, were looking askance at the project. The fans of the musical
were, too. But now the task is completed and the uncertainty
resolved with the opening of the English-dialogue picture at the Music
Hall yesterday. Whether fan of the Pagnol films or stage show, whether
partial to music or no, you can't help but derive joy from this
picture if you have a sense of humor and a heart.

SOME of the New York Philharmonic musicians who live in

the suburbs spent yesterday morning digging themselves free from snow.
A tiny handful never did make the concert. But, after a fifteen-minute
delay, the substantially complete Philharmonic assembled on stage
for the afternoon's proceedings. They faced a rather small audience,
as quite a few subscribers apparently had decided to forego the pleasures
of the afternoon. It was an excellent concert. Paul
Paray, rounding out his current stint with the orchestra, is a solid
musician, and the Philharmonic plays for him. Their collaboration in
the Beethoven Second Symphony was lucid, intelligent and natural sounding.
It was not a heavy, ponderous Beethoven. The music sang nicely,
sprinted evenly when necessary, was properly accented and balanced.
#@#

The Franck symphonic poem, "Psyche", is a

lush,
sweet-sounding affair that was pleasant to encounter once again. Fortunate
for the music itself, it is not too frequent a visitor; if
it were, its heavily chromatic harmonies would soon become cloying.

Mr& Paray resisted the temptation to over-emphasize the melodic

elements of the score. He did not let the strings, for instance,
weep, whine or get hysterical. His interpretation was a model of refinement
and accuracy. And in the Prokofieff ~C major Piano
Concerto, with Zadel Skolovsky as soloist, he was an admirable partner.
Mr& Skolovsky's approach to the concerto was bold, sweeping
and tonally percussive. He swept through the music with ease, in a
non-sentimental and ultra-efficient manner. #@#

An impressive technician,
Mr& Skolovsky has fine rhythm, to boot. His tone is the
weakest part of his equipment; it tends to be hard and colorless.
A school of thought has it that those attributes are exactly what this
concerto needs. It is, after all, a non-romantic work (even with the
big, juicy melody of the second movement); and the composer himself
was called the "age of steel pianist". But granted all this, one
still would have liked to have heard a little more tonal nuance than
Mr& Skolovsky supplied. Taken as a whole, though, it was
a strong performance from both pianist and orchestra. Mr& Skolovsky
fully deserved the warm reception he received. A new work on
the program was Nikolai Lopatnikoff's "Festival Overture",
receiving its first New York hearing. This was composed last year as
a salute to the automobile industry. It is not program music, though.
It runs a little more than ten minutes, is workmanlike, busy, methodical
and featureless.

"La Gioconda", like it or not, is a singer's opera. And

so, of course, it is a fan's opera as well. Snow or no, the fans
were present in force at the Metropolitan Opera last night for a performance
of the Ponchielli work. So the plot creaks, the sets
are decaying, the costumes are pre-historic, the orchestra was sloppy
and not very well connected with what the singers were doing. After
all, the opera has juicy music to sing and the goodies are well distributed,
with no less than six leading parts. One of those parts
is that of evil, evil Barnaba, the spy. His wicked deeds were carried
on by Anselmo Colzani, who was taking the part for the first time
with the company. He has the temperament and the stage presence
for a rousing villain and he sang with character and strong tone.
What was lacking was a real sense of phrase, the kind of legato singing
that would have added a dimension of smoothness to what is, after
all, a very oily character. Regina Resnik as Laura and Cesare
Siepi as Alvise also were new to the cast, but only with respect
to this season; they have both sung these parts here before. Laura
is a good role for Miss Resnik, and she gave it force, dramatic color
and passion. Mr& Siepi was, as always, a consummate actor;
with a few telling strokes he characterized Alvise magnificently.
Part of this characterization was, of course, accomplished with the
vocal chords. His singing was strong and musical; unfortunately his
voice was out of focus and often spread in quality. Eileen Farrell
in the title role, Mignon Dunn as La Cieca and Richard Tucker
as Enzo were holdovers from earlier performances this season, and
all contributed to a vigorous performance. If only they and Fausto
Cleva in the pit had got together a bit more. @

"MELODIOUS birds sing madrigals" saith the poet and no

better description of the madrigaling of the Deller Consort could
be imagined. Their Vanguard album {Madrigal Masterpieces}
(~BG 609; stereo ~BGS 5031) is a good sample of the special,
elegant art of English madrigal singing. It also makes a fine introduction
to the international art form with good examples of Italian
and English madrigals plus several French "chansons".
The English have managed to hold onto their madrigal tradition better
than anyone else. The original impulses came to England late (in the
sixteenth century) and continue strong long after everyone else had
gone on to the baroque basso continuo, sonatas, operas and the like.

Even after Elizabethan traditions were weakened by the Cromwellian

interregnum, the practice of singing together- choruses, catches
and glees- always flourished. The English never again developed
a strong native music that could obliterate the traces of an earlier
great age the way, say, the opera in Italy blotted out the Italian
madrigal.

#EARLY INTEREST#

Latter-day interest in Elizabethan singing

dates well back into the nineteenth century in England, much ahead
of similar revivals in other countries. As a result no comparable
literature of the period is better known and better studied nor more
often performed than the English madrigal. Naturally, Mr&
Deller and the other singers in his troupe are most charming and elegant
when they are squarely in their tradition and singing music by their
countrymen: William Byrd, Thomas Morley and Thomas Tomkins.
There is an almost instrumental quality to their singing, with a tendency
to lift out important lines and make them lead the musical texture.
Both techniques give the music purity and clarity. Claude
Jannequin's vocal description of a battle (the French equivalents
of tarantara, rum-tum-tum, and boom-boom-boom are very picturesque) is
lots of fun, and the singers get a sense of grace and shape into other
chansons by Jannequin and Lassus. Only with the more sensual, intense
and baroque expressions of Marenzio, Monteverdi and Gesualdo
does the singing seem a little superficial. Nevertheless, the
musicality, accuracy and infectious charm of these performances, excellently
reproduced, make it an attractive look-see at the period. The
works are presented chronologically. Texts and translations are provided.

#ELEGANCE AND COLOR#

The elements of elegance and color in Jannequin

are strong French characteristics. Baroque instrumental music
in Italy and Germany tends to be strong, lively, intense, controlled
and quite abstract. In France, it remained always more picturesque,
more dancelike, more full of flavor. Couperin and Rameau
gave titles to nearly everything they wrote, not in the later sense
of "program music" but as a kind of nonmusical reference for the close,
clear musical forms filled with keen wit and precise utterance.

Both composers turn up on new imports from France. ~BAM

is the unlikely name of a French recording company whose full label is
Editions de la boite a musique. They specialize in out-of-the-way
items and old French music naturally occupies a good deal of their attention.
{Sonates et Concerts Royaux} of Couperin le grand occupy
two disks (~LD056 and ~LD060) and reveal the impeccable taste
and workmanship of this master- delicate, flexible and gemlike.

The Concerts- Nos& 2, 6, 9, 10 and 14 are represented-

are really closer to chamber suites than to concertos in the Italian
sense. The sonatas, "La Francaise", "La Sultane", "L'Astree"
and "L'Imperiale", are often more elaborately worked
out and, in fact, show a strong Italian influence. Couperin
also turns up along with some lesser-known contemporaries on a disk
called {Musique Francaise du /18,e Siecle} (~BAM ~LD
060). Jean-Marie LeClair still is remembered a bit, but Bodin de
Beismortier, Corrette and Mondonville are hardly household words.
What is interesting about these chamber works here is how they all reveal
the aspect of French music that was moving toward the rococo.

The Couperin "La Steinkerque", with its battle music, brevity,

wit and refined simplicity, already shakes off Corelli and points
towards the mid-century elegances that ended the baroque era. If
Couperin shows the fashionable trend, the others do so all the more.

All these records have close, attractive sound and the performances
by a variety of instrumentalists is characteristic. Rameau's
{Six Concerts en Sextuor,} recorded by L'orchestre de
chambre Pierre Menet (~BAM ~LD 046), turn out to be harpsichord
pieces arranged for strings apparently by the composer himself.
The strange, delightful little character pieces with their odd and sometimes
inexplicable titles are still evocative and gracious. {Maitres
Allemands des /17,e et /18,e Siecles} contains music
by Pachelbel, Buxtehude, Rosenmueller and Telemann, well performed
by the Ensemble Instrumental Sylvie Spycket (~BAM ~LD
035).

Rococo music- a lot of it- was played in Carnegie Recital

Hall on Saturday night in the first of four concerts being sponsored
this season by a new organization known as Globe Concert Arts.

Works by J& C& Bach, Anton Craft, Joseph Haydn, Giuseppe

Sammartini, Comenico Dragonetti and J& G& Janitsch were
performed by seven instrumentalists including Anabel Brieff, flutist,
Josef Marx, oboist, and Robert Conant, pianist and harpsichordist.

Since rococo music tends to be pretty and elegant above all,

it can seem rather vacuous to twentieth-century ears that have grown
accustomed to the stress and dissonances of composers from Beethoven
to Boulez. Thus there was really an excess of eighteenth-century
charm as one of these light-weight pieces followed another on Saturday
night. Each might find a useful place in a varied musical program,
but taken together they grew quite tiresome. The performances
were variable, those of the full ensemble being generally satisfying,
some by soloists proving rather trying. @

Ellie Mao, soprano, and Frederick Fuller, baritone, presented

a program of folksongs entitled "East Meets West" in Carnegie
Recital Hall last night. They were accompanied by Anna Mi Lee,
pianist. Selections from fifteen countries were sung as solos
and duets in a broad range of languages. Songs from China and Japan
were reserved exclusively for Miss Mao, who is a native of China,
and those of the British Isles were sung by Mr& Fuller, who is
English by birth. This was not a program intended to illustrate
authentic folk styles. On the contrary, Miss Mao and Mr& Fuller
chose many of their arrangements from the works of composers such
as Mendelssohn, Dvorak, Canteloube, Copland and Britten. Thre
was,
therefore, more musical substance in the concert than might have been
the case otherwise. The performances were assured, communicative and
pleasingly informal. @

WHAT was omitted from "A Neglected Education" were

those essentials known as "the facts of life". Chabrier's
little one-act operetta, presented yesterday afternoon at Town Hall,
is a fragile, precious little piece, very French, not without wit
and charm. The poor uneducated newlywed, a certain Gontran de Boismassif,
has his problems in getting the necessary information. The humor
of the situation can be imagined. It all takes place in the
eighteenth century. What a silly, artificial way of life, Chabrier
and his librettists chuckle. But they wish they could bring it back.
#@#

Chabrier's delightful music stands just at the point where

the classical, rationalist tradition, (handed down to Chabrier largely
in the form of operetta and salon music) becomes virtually neo-classicism.
The musical cleverness and spirit plus a strong sense of taste
and measure save a wry little joke from becoming either bawdy or
mawkish. The simple, clever production was also able to tread
the thin line between those extremes. Arlene Saunders was charming as
poor Gontran. Yes, Arlene is her name; the work uses the old eighteenth-century
tradition of giving the part of a young inexperienced
youth to a soprano. Benita Valente was delightful as the young wife
and John Parella was amusing as the tutor who failed to do all his tutoring.

The work was presented as the final event in the Town

Hall Festival of Music. It was paired with a Darius Milhaud opera,
"The Poor Sailor", set to a libretto by Jean Cocteau, a
kind of Grand Guignol by the sea, a sailor returns, unrecognized, and
gets done in by his wife. With the exception of a few spots,
Milhaud's music mostly churns away with his usual collection of ditties,
odd harmonies, and lumbering, satiric orchestration.

Had a funny experience at Newport yesterday afternoon. Sat there

and as a woman sang, she kept getting thinner and thinner, right
before my eyes, and the eyes of some 5,500 other people. I make
this observation about the lady, Miss Judy Garland, because she brought
up the subject herself in telling a story about a British female
reporter who flattered her terribly in London recently and then wrote
in the paper the next day: "Judy Garland has arrived
in London. She's not chubby. She's not plump. She's fat".

But who cares, when the lady sings? Certainly not the largest
afternoon audience Newport has ever had at a jazz concert and the
most attentive and quiet. They applauded every number, not only at its
conclusion but also at the first statement of the theme- sometimes
at the first chord. And Judy sang the lovely old familiar things
which seemed, at times, a blessed relief from the way-out compositions
of the progressive jazzmen who have dominated these proceedings.
Things like "When You're Smiling", "Almost Like Being In
Love", "Do It Again", "Born to Wander", "Alone Together",
"Who Cares?", "Puttin' on the Ritz", "How
Long Has This Been Going On?" and her own personal songs
like "The Man That Got Away", and the inevitable "Over the
Rainbow". Miss Garland is not only one of the great singers
of our time but she is one of the superb showmen. At the start of
her program there were evidences of pique. She had held to the letter
of her contract and didn't come onto the stage until well after 4
p&m&, the appointed hour, although the Music at Newport people had
tried to get the program underway at 3. Then there was a bad delay
in getting Mort Lindsey's 30-piece orchestra wedged into its chairs.

Along about 4:30, just when it was getting to be about time

to turn the audience over and toast them on the other side, Judy
came on singing, in a short-skirted blue dress with a blue and white jacket
that flapped in the wind. Her bouffant coiffure was fortunately
combed on the left which happened to be the direction from which a brisk
breeze was blowing. In her first song she waved away one
encroaching photographer who dared approach the throne unbidden and thereafter
the boys with the cameras had to unsheathe their 300 mm& lenses
and shoot at extreme range. There also came a brief contretemps
with the sound mixers who made the mistake of being overheard during
a quiet moment near the conclusion of "Do It Again", and
she made the tart observation that "I never saw so much moving about
in an audience". But it didn't take Judy Garland, showman,
long to realize that this sort of thing was par for the course at
Newport and that you have to learn to live with it. Before her chore
was finished she was rescuing wind-blown sheets of music, trundling
microphones about the stage, helping to move the piano and otherwise joining
in the informal atmosphere. And time after time she really
belted out her songs. Sometimes they struck me as horribly over-arranged-
which was the way I felt about her "Come Rain or Come
Shine"- and sometimes they were just plain magnificent, like her
shatteringly beautiful "Beautiful Weather". To her partisan
audience, such picayune haggling would have seemed nothing more than
a critic striving to hold his franchise; they just sat back on their
haunches and cried for more, as though they could never get enough.

They were rewarded with splendid, exciting, singing. Her "Rockabye

Your Baby" was as good as it can be done, and her really
personal songs, like "The Man That Got Away" were deeply moving.

The audience wouldn't let her leave until it had heard

"Over The Rainbow"- although the fellow that kept crying for
"Get Happy" had to go home unhappy, about that item anyway. She
was generous with her encores and the audience was equally so with
its cheers and applause and flowers. All went home happy except
the Newport police, who feared that the throng departing at 6:35
might meet head-on the night crowd drawing nigh, and those deprived of
their happy hour at the cocktail bar.

In Newport last night there were flashes of distant lightning

in the northern skies. This was perhaps symbolic of the jazz of the
evening- flashes in the distance, but no storm. Several times
it came near breaking, and there were in fact some lovely peals of thunder
from Jerry Mulligan's big band, which is about as fine an aggregation
as has come along in the jazz business since John Hammond
found Count Basie working in a Kansas City trap. Mulligan's
band has been infected with his solid sense of swing, and what it
does seems far more meaningful than most of the noise generated by the
big concert aggregations. But what is equally impressive is
the delicacy and wonderful lyric quality of both the band and Mulligan's
baritone sax in a fragile ballad like Bob Brookmeyer's arrangement
of "Django's Castle". For subtle swinging rhythms,
I could admire intensely Mulligan's version of "Weep", and
the fireworks went on display in "18 Carrots for Robert", a sax
tribute to Johnny Hodges. There was considerable contrast
between this Mulligan performance and that of Art Blakey and The
Jazz Messengers, who are able to generate a tremendous sound for such
a small group. Unfortunately, Blakey doesn't choose to work much
of the time in this vein. He prefers to have his soloist performing
and thus we get only brief glimpses of what his ensemble work is like.

What we did get, however, was impressive. A few drops

of rain just before midnight, when Sarah Vaughan was in the midst of
her first number, scattered the more timid members of the audience briefly,
but at this hour and with Sarah on the stand, most of the listeners
didn't care whether they got wet. Miss Vaughan was back
in top form, somehow mellowed and improved with the passage of time-
like a fine wine. After the spate of female vocalists we have been
having, all of whom took Sarah as a point of departure and then tried
to see what they could do that might make her seem old hat, it seemed
that all that has happened is to make the real thing seem better than
ever.

#JAZZ THREE OPEN PROGRAM#

The evening program was opened

by the Jazz Three, a Newport group consisting of Steve Budieshein
on bass, Jack Warner, drums, and Don Cook, piano. This was a
continuation of a good idea which was first tried out Saturday night
when the Eddie Stack group, also local talent, went on first.
Putting on local musicians at this place in the program serves a triple
purpose: it saves the top flight jazz men from being wasted in
this unenviable spot, when the audience is cold, restless, and in flux;
it prevents late-comers from missing some of the people they have
come a long way to hear, and it gives the resident musicians a chance
to perform before the famous Newport audience. The Jazz Three
displayed their sound musicianship, not only in their own chosen set,
but as the emergency accompanists for Al Minns + Leon James, the
superb jazz dancers who have now been Newport performers for three
successive years, gradually moving up from a morning seminar on the evolution
of the blues to a spot on the evening program.

#JULIE WILSON
SINGS#

Julie Wilson, a vigorous vocalist without many wild twists,

sang a set, a large part of which consisted of such seldom heard old
oldies as "Hard-Hearted Hannah, the Vamp of Savannah", and
the delightful "Sunday". She frosted the cake with the always reliable
"Bill Bailey". From this taste of the 1920s, we
leaped way out to Stan Getz's private brand of progressive jazz,
which did lovely, subtle things for "Baubles, Bangles and Beads",
and a couple of ballards. Getz is a difficult musician to categorize.
He plays his sax principally for beauty of tone, rather than
for scintillating flights of meaningless improvisations, and he has
a quiet way of getting back and restating the melody after the improvising
is over. In this he is sticking with tradition, however far removed
from it he may seem to be.

#SHEARING TAKES OVER#

George Shearing
took over with his well disciplined group, a sextet consisting of
vibes, guitar, bass, drums, Shearing's piano and a bongo drummer.
He met with enthusiastic audience approval, especially when he swung
from jazz to Latin American things like the Mambo. Shearing, himself,
seemed to me to be playing better piano than in his recent Newport
appearances. A very casual, pleasant program- one of those
easy-going things that make Newport's afternoon programs such a
relaxing delight- was held again under sunny skies, hot sun, and a fresh
breeze for an audience of at least a couple of thousands who came
to Newport to hear music rather than go to the beach. Divided
almost equally into two parts, it consisted of "The Evolution of
the Blues", narrated by Jon Hendricks, who had presented it last
year at the Monterey, Calif&, Jazz Festival, and an hour-long session
of Maynard Ferguson and his orchestra, a blasting big band.
Hendricks' story was designed for children and he had a small
audience of small children right on stage with him. Tracing the blues
from its African roots among the slaves who were brought to this country
and the West Indies, he stressed the close relationship between
the early jazz forms and the music of the Negro churches.

#SURPRISE
ADDITION#

To help him on this religious aspect of primitive jazz

he had "Big" Miller, as a preacher-singer and Hannah Dean, Gospel-singer,
while Oscar Brown Jr&, an extremely talented young
man, did a slave auctioneer's call, a field-hands' work song, and
a beautifully sung Negro lullaby, "Brown Baby", which was one of
the truly moving moments of the festival. One of those delightful
surprise additions, which so frequently occur in jazz programs,
was an excellent stint at the drums by the great Joe Jones, drumming
to "Old Man River", which seems to have been elected the favorite
solo for the boys on the batterie at this year's concerts.

Demonstrating the primitive African rhythmic backgrounds of the Blues

was Michael Babatunde Olatunji, who plays such native drums as
the konga and even does a resounding job slapping his own chest. He
has been on previous Newport programs and was one of the sensations of
last year's afternoon concerts. Hendricks had Billy Mitchell,
tenor
sax; Pony Poindexter, alto sax; Jimmy Witherspoon,
blues singer (and a good one), and the Ike Isaacs Trio, which has done
such wonderful work for two afternoons now, helping him with the musical
examples. It all went very well.

PIANISTS who are serious about their work are likely to know
the interesting material contained in Schubert's Sonatas. Music
lovers who are not familiar with this literature may hear an excellent
example, played for ~RCA by Emil Gilels. He has chosen Sonata
Op& 53 in ~D. The playing takes both sides of the disc. Perhaps
one of the reasons these Sonatas are not programmed more often
is their great length. Rhythmic interest, melodic beauty and the expansiveness
of the writing are all qualities which hold one's attention
with the Gilels playing. His technique is ample and his musical ideas
are projected beautifully. The male chorus of the Robert
Shaw Chorale sings Sea Shanties in fine style. The group is superbly
trained. What a discussion can ensue when the title of this type
of song is in question. Do you say chantey, as if the word were derived
from the French word chanter, to sing, or do you say shanty and think
of a roughly built cabin, which derives its name from the French-Canadian
use of the word chantier, with one of its meanings given as
a boat-yard? I say chantey. Either way, the Robert Shaw chorus
sings them in fine style with every colorful word and its musical frame
spelled out in terms of agreeable listening. If your favorite song
is not here it must be an unfamiliar one. The London label offers
an operatic recital by Ettore Bastianini, a baritone whose fame
is international.

MURRAY LOUIS and his dance company appeared at the Henry

Street Playhouse on Friday and Saturday evenings and Sunday afternoons
in the premiere of his latest work, "Signal", and the repetition
of an earlier one, "Journal". "Signal" is choreographed
for three male dancers to an electronic score by Alwin Nikolais.
Its abstract decor is by John Hultberg. Program note reads
as follows: "Take hands **h this urgent visage beckons us".

Here, as in "Journal", Mr& Louis has given himself

the lion's share of the dancing, and there is no doubt that he is
capable of conceiving and executing a wide variety of difficult and arresting
physical movements. Indeed, both "Journal" and "Signal"
qualify as instructive catalogues of modern-dance calisthenics.

But chains of movements are not necessarily communicative, and

it is in the realm of communication that the works prove disappointing.
One frequently has the feeling that the order of their movement combinations
could be transposed without notable loss of effect, there is
too little suggestion of organic relationship and development.

It may be, of course, that Mr& Louis is consciously trying to create

works that anticipate an age of total automation. But it may be,
also, that he is merely more mindful of athletics than of esthetics
at the present time. One thing is certain, however, and that is that
he is far more slavish to the detailed accents, phrasings and contours
of the music he deals with than a confident dance creator need be. @
#'AN AMERICAN JOURNEY'#

A brisk, satirical spoof of contemporary

American mores entitled "An American Journey" was given its
first New York performance at Hunter College Playhouse last night
by the Helen Tamiris-Daniel Nagrin Dance Company. Choreographed
by Mr& Nagrin, the work filled the second half of a program that
also offered the first New York showing of Miss Tamiris' "Once
Upon a Time **h" as well as her "Women's Song" and
Mr& Nagrin's "Indeterminate Figure". Eugene Lester
assembled a witty and explicit score for "An American Journey",
and Malcolm McCormick gave it sprightly imaginative costumes.

Mr& Nagrin has described four "places", each with its scenery
and people, added two "diversions", and concluded with "A
Toccata for the Young", a refreshingly underplayed interpretation
of rock'n'roll dancing. The "places" could be anywhere,
the idiosyncrasies
and foibles observed there could be anybody's, and
the laugh is on us all. But we need not mind too much, because Mr&
Nagrin has expressed it through movement that is diverting and clever
almost all the way. Miss Tamiris' "Once Upon a Time
**h" is a problem piece about a man and a woman and the three "figures"
that bother them somehow. Unfortunately, the man and
woman were not made to appear very interesting at the outset and the
menacing figures failed to make them any more so. Nor did the dancing
involved really seize the attention at any time. The music here, Russell
Smith's "Tetrameron", sounded good. All the performances
of the evening were smooth and assured, and the sizable company,
with Mr& Nagrin and Marion Scott as its leading dancers, seemed
to be fine shape.

THE Symphony of the Air, greatly assisted by Van Cliburn,

last night got its seven-concert Beethoven cycle at Carnegie Hall
off to a good start. At the same time the orchestra announced that
next season it would be giving twenty-five programs at Carnegie, and
that it would be taking these concerts to the suburbs, repeating each
of them in five different communities. This news, announced
by Jerome Toobin, the orchestra's administrative director, brought
applause from the 2,800 persons who filled the hall. They showed they
were glad that Carnegie would have a major orchestra playing there
so often next season to take up the slack with the departure to Lincoln
Center of the New York Philharmonic, the Philadelphia Orchestra
and the Boston Symphony. This season the orchestra has already
taken a step toward the suburbs in that it is giving six subscription
concerts for the Orchestral Society of Westchester in the County
Center in White Plains. The details of the suburban concerts
next season, and the centers in which they will be given, will be announced
later, Mr& Toobin said. #@#

The concertos that Van

Cliburn has been associated with in New York since his triumphant return
from Russia in 1958 have been the Tchaikovsky, the Rachmaninoff
Third, and the Prokofieff Third. It was pleasant last night, therefore,
to hear him do something else: a concerto he has recently recorded,
"The Emperor". The young Texas pianist can make
great chords ring out as well as anyone, so last night the massive sonorities
of this challenging concerto were no hazard to him. But they
were not what distinguished his performance. The elements that did
were the introspective slow movement, the beautiful transition to the
third movement, and the passages of filigree that laced through the bigger
moments of the opening movement and the final Rondo. Mr&
Cliburn gave the slow movement some of the quality of a Chopin Nocturne.
Alfred Wallenstein, the conductor, sensitive accompanist that
he is, picked up the idea and led the orchestra here with a sense of
broodinf, poetic mystery. The collaboration was remarkable, as it was
in both the other movements, too. #@#

Mr& Wallenstein, who

will lead all of the concerts in the cycle, also conducted the "Leonore"
Overture No& 3 and the Fourth Symphony. The orchestra
was obviously on its mettle and it played most responsively. And although
there was plenty of vigor in the performance, the ensemble was at
its best when the playing was soft and lyrical, yet full of the suppressed
tension that is one of the hallmarks of Beethoven. Igor Oistrakh
will be the next soloist on Feb& 4.

THERE are times when one suspects that the songs that are
dropped from musical shows before they reach Broadway may really be
better than many of those that are left in. Today, in the era of the
integrated musical when an individual song must contribute to the over-all
development of the show, it is understandable that a song, no matter
how excellent it may be on its own terms, is cut out because it does
not perform the function required of it. In the more casually
constructed musicals of the Nineteen Twenties and Nineteen Thirties
there would seem to have been less reason for eliminating a song
of merit. Yet there is the classic case of the Gershwins' "The
Man I Love". Deemed too static when it was first heard in "Lady
Be Good" in Philadelphia in 1924, it was dropped from the score.
It was heard again in Philadelphia in 1927 in the first version
of "Strike Up the Band" and again abandoned shortly before the
entire show was given up. It finally reached Broadway in the second
and successful version of "Strike Up the Band" in 1929. (Still
another song in "Strike Up the Band"- "I've Got a Crush
on You"- was retrieved from a 1928 failure, "Treasure Girl".)
#SECOND CHANCE#

Like the Gershwins, Richard Rodgers and

Lorenz Hart were loath to let a good song get away from them. If one
of Mr& Rodgers' melodies seemed to deserve a better fate than
interment in Boston or the obscurity of a Broadway failure, Mr& Hart
was likely to deck it out with new lyrics to give it a second chance
in another show. Several of these double entries have been
collected by Ben Bagley and Michael McWhinney, along with Rodgers
and Hart songs that disappeared permanently en route to New York
and others that reached Broadway but have not become part of the constantly
heard Rodgers and Hart repertory, in a delightfully refreshing
album, {Rodgers and Hart Revisited} (Spruce Records, 505 Fifth
Avenue, New York). Among the particular gems in this collection
is the impudent opening song of "The Garrick Gaieties",
an impressive forecast of the wit and melody that were to come from
Rodgers and Hart in the years that followed; Dorothy Loudon's
raucous listing of the attractions "At the Roxy Music Hall" from
"I Married an Angel"; and the incisive style with which Charlotte
Rae delivers the top-drawer Hart lyrics of "I Blush",
a song that was cut from "A Connecticut Yankee". Altogether
fifteen virtually unknown Rodgers and Hart songs are sung by
a quintet of able vocalists. Norman Paris has provided them with extremely
effective orchestral accompanimen Turning to the current
musical season on Broadway, the most widely acclaimed of the new arrivals,
{How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying},
has been transferred to an original cast album (R& C& A& Victor
~LOC 1066; stereo ~LSO 1066) that has some entertaining
moments, although it is scarcely as inventive as the praise elicited
by the show might lead one to expect. Robert Morse, singing with comically
plaintive earnestness, carries most of the burden and is responsible
for the high spots in Frank Loesser's score. Rudy
Vallee, who shares star billing with Mr& Morse, makes only two
appearances. He shares with Mr& Morse a parody of the college anthems
he once sang while his second song is whisked away from him by Virginia
Martin, a girl with a remarkably expressive yip in her voice.
In general, Mr& Loesser has done a more consistent job as lyricist
than he has as composer. Like Mr& Loesser, Jerry Herman
is both composer and lyriist for {Milk and Honey} (R&
C&
A& Victor ~LOC 1065; stereo ~LSO 1065), but in this
case it is the music that stands above the lyrics. For this story of
an American couple who meet and fall in love in Israel, Mr& Herman
has written songs that are warmly melodious and dance music that sparkles.

#RESOURCEFUL VOICES#

There are the full-bodied, resourceful

voices of Robert Weede, Mimi Benzell and Tommy Rall to make the
most of Mr& Herman's lilting melodies and, for an occasional
change of pace, the bright humor of Molly Picon. Mr& Herman has
managed to mix musical ideas drawn from Israel and the standard American
ballad style in a manner that stresses the basic tunefulness of both
idioms. Not content to create only the music and lyrics, Noe^l
Coward also wrote the book and directed {Sail Away} (Capitol
~WAO 1643; stereo ~SWAO 1643), a saga of life on a
cruise ship that is not apt to be included among Mr& Coward's more
memorable works. The melodies flow along pleasantly, as Mr& Coward's
songs usually do, but his lyrics have a tired, cut-to-a-familiar-pattern
quality. Elaine Stritch, who sings with a persuasively
warm huskiness, belts some life into most of her songs, but the other
members of the cast sound as lukewarm as Mr& Coward's songs.

WITH three fine Russian films in recent months on World

War /2,- "The House I Live In", "The Cranes Are Flying"
and "Ballad of a Soldier"- we had every right to expect
a real Soviet block-buster in "The Day the War Ended". It
simply isn't, not by a long shot. The Artkino presentation, with English
titles, opened on Saturday at the Cameo Theatre. #@#

Make no mistake, this Gorky Studio drama is a respectable import-

aptly grave, carefully
written, performed and directed. In describing the initial Allied
occupation of a middle-sized German city, the picture has color, pictorial
pull and genuinely moving moments. Told strictly from the viewpoint
of the Russian conquerors, the film compassionately peers over
the shoulders of a smitten Soviet couple, at both sides of the conflict's
aftermath. Unfortunately, the whole picture hinges on this
romance, at the expense of everything else. Tenderly and rather tediously,
the camera rivets on the abrupt, deep love of a pretty nurse
and a uniformed teacher, complicated by nothing more than a friend they
don't want to hurt. It's the old story, war or no war, and more
than one viewer may recall Hollywood's "Titanic", several seasons
back, when the paramount concern was for the marital discord of
a society dilettante. Not that the picture is superficial. Under
Yakov Segal's direction, it begins stirringly, as crouching Soviet
and Nazi troops silently scan each other, waiting for the first
surrender gesture. One high-up camera shot is magnificent, as the Germans
straggle from a cathedral, dotting a huge, cobblestone square,
and drop their weapons.

#RING OF BRIGHT WATER, BY GAVIN MAXWELL. 211 PAGES. DUTTON. $5.#

Only
once in a very long while comes a book that gives the reader a magic
sense of sharing a rare experience. "Ring of Bright Water" by
Gavin Maxwell is just that- a haunting, warmly personal chronicle
of a man, an otter, and a remote cottage in the Scottish West Highlands.

"He has married me with **h a ring of bright

water",
begins the Kathleen Raine poem from which Maxwell takes his title,
and it is this mystic bond between the human and natural world that the
author conveys. The place is Camusfearna, the site of a long-vanished
sea-village opposite the isle of Skye. It is a land of long fjords,
few people, a single-lane road miles away- and of wild stags, Greylag
geese, wild swans, dolphins and porpoises playing in the waters.
How Maxwell recounts his first coming to Camusfearna, his furnishing
the empty house with beach-drift, the subtle changes in season over
ten years, is a moving experience. Just the evocations of time and
place, of passionate encounter between man and a natural world which today
seems almost lost, would be enough. But it isn't. There
is Mijbil, an otter who travelled with Maxwell- and gave Maxwell's
name to a new species- from the Tigris marshes to his London
flat. It may sound extravagant to say that there has never been a more
engaging animal in all literature. This is not only a compliment to
Mijbil, of whom there are a fine series of photographs and drawings
in the book, but to the author who has catalogued the saga of a frightened
otter cub's journey by plane from Iraq to London, then by train
(where he lay curled in the wash basin playing with the water tap)
to Camusfearna, with affectionate detail. Mij, as his owner
was soon to learn, had strange, inexplicable habits. He liked to nip
ear lobes of unsuspecting visitors with his needle-sharp teeth. He preferred
sleeping in bed with his head on a pillow. Systematically he
would open and ransack drawers. Given a small ball or marbles, he would
invent games and play by himself for hours. With curiosity and elan,
he explored every inch of glen, beach and burn, once stranding himself
for hours on a ledge high up a sheer seventy-foot cliff and waiting
with calm faith to be rescued by Maxwell, who nearly lost his life
in doing so. A year and a day of this idyll is described for the
reader, one in which not only discovery of a new world of personality
is charted, but self-discovery as well. In the solitude of Camusfearna
there had been no loneliness. "To be quite alone where there
are no other human beings is sharply exhilarating; it is as though some
pressure had suddenly been lifted, allowing an intense awareness **h
a sharpening of the senses". Now, with the increasing interdependence
between himself and Mij came a knowledge of an obscure need,
that of being trusted implicitly by some creature. Two other people
in time shared Mijbil's love: "**h it remained around us three
that his orb revolved when he was not away in his own imponderable
world of wave and water **h; we were his Trinity, and he behaved
towards us **h with a mixture of trust and abuse, passion and irritation.
In turn each of us in our own way depended, as gods do, upon his
worship".

Yet the idyll ended. The brief details of Mijbil's

death lend depth to the story, give it an edge of ironic tragedy.
Man, to whom Mij gave endless affection and fealty, was responsible
in the form of a road worker with a pickaxe who somehow becomes an abstract
symbol of the savage in man. But then, through a strange coincidence,
Maxwell manages to acquire Idal, a female otter, and the fascinating
story starts once more. One is not sure who emerges as
the main personality of this book- Mijbil, with his rollicking ways,
or Maxwell himself, poet, portrait painter, writer, journalist, traveller
and zoologist, sensitive but never sentimental recorder of an
unusual way of life, in a language at once lyrical and forceful, vivid
and unabashed. This reviewer read the book when it was first brought
out in England with a sense of discovery and excitement. Now Gavin
Maxwell's ring of bright water has widened to enchant the world.

_NEW YORK_- The performances of the Comedie Francaise are the

most important recent events in the New York theater. They
serve to contradict a popular notion that the Comedie merely repeats,
as accurately as possible, the techniques of acting the classics that
prevailed in the 17th century. On the contrary, the old plays are continually
being reinterpreted, and each new production of a classic has
only a brief history at the Comedie. Of course, the well-received
revivals last longer than the others, and that further reminds
us that the Comedie is not insensitive to criticism. The directors of
the Comedie do not respond to adverse notices in as docile and subservient
a manner as the Broadway producers who, in two instances this
season, closed their plays after one performance. But they are aware
of the world outside, they court public approval, they delight in full
houses, and they occasionally dare to experiment in interpreting a dramatic
classic. In France, novel approaches to the classic French
plays are frequently attempted. The government pays a subsidy
for revival of the classics, and this policy attracts experimenters who
sometimes put Moliere's characters in modern dress and often achieve
interesting results. So far as I know, the Comedie has never
put Moliere's people in the costumes of the 20th century, but
they do reinterpret plays and characters. Last season, the Comedie's
two principal experiments came to grief, and, in consequence, we can
expect fairly soon to see still newer productions of Racine's "Phedre"
and Moliere's "School for Wives". The new
"Phedre" was done in 17th century setting, instead of ancient Greek;
perhaps that is the Comedie's equivalent for thrusting this
play's characters into our own time. The speaking of the lines seemed
excessively slow and stately, possibly in an effort to capture the
spirit of 17th century elegance. A few literary men defended what they
took to be an emphasis on the poetry at the expense of the drama, but
the response was mainly hostile and quite violent. The new "School
for Wives" was interpreted according to a principle that
is becoming increasingly common in the playing of classic comedy- the
idea of turning some obviously ludicrous figure into a tragic character.

Among the Moliere specialists of some years ago, Louis

Jouvet tried to humanize some of the clowns, while Fernand Ledoux,
often performing at the Comedie, made them more gross than Moliere may
have intended. Apparently, Jouvet and Ledoux attempted just
these dissimilar approaches in the role of Arnolphe in "The School
for Wives". I say "apparently" although I saw Jouvet as
Arnolphe when he visited this country shortly before his death; by
that time, he seemed to have dropped the tragic playing of the last moments
of the comedy. Arnolphe, it will be recalled, is a man
of mature years who tries to preserve the innocence of his youthful wife-to-be.
The part can lend itself to serious treatment; one influential
French critic remarked: "Pity for Arnolphe comes with age".

Accordingly, at the Comedie last year, Jean Meyer played

a sympathetic Arnolphe and drew criticism for turning the comedy into
a tragedy. But the stuff of tragedy was not truly present and the
play became only comedy acted rather slowly. Wisely, the Comedie
has brought Moliere's "Tartuffe" on its tour and has left
"The School for Wives" at home. Tartuffe is the religious hypocrite
who courts his benefactor's wife. Jouvet played him as a sincere
zealot, and Ledoux, at the Comedie, made him a gross buffoon, or
so the historians tell us. Louis Seigner, who formerly played
the deluded benefactor opposite Ledoux, is the Tartuffe of the present
production, which he himself directed. His Tartuffe observes the
golden mean. His red face, his coarse gestures, and his lustful stares
bespeak his sensuality. But his heavenward glances and his pious
speeches are not merely perfunctory; of course, they do not reflect
sincerity, but they exhibit a concern to make a good job out of his
pious impersonation. Occasionally, Seigner draws some justly
deserved laughs by his quick shifts from one personality to another. The
whole role, by the way, is a considerable transformation for anyone
who has seen Seigner in his other parts. His normal specialty is playing
the good-natured old man, frequently stupid or deluded but never
mean or sly. Here, he is, quite persuasively, the very embodiment of
meanness and slyness. Seigner is the dean of the company, the
oldest actor in point of continuous service. In that function, he helps
to rebut another legend about the Comedie. We are often told that
the Comedie has, unfortunately, life-contracts with old actors who
are both mediocre and lazy, drawing their pay without much acting but
probably doing real service to the Comedie by staying off the stage.
Seigner, however, is a fine actor and probably the busiest man in the
company; among his other parts are the leads in "The Bourgeois
Gentleman" and "The Imaginary Invalid". In Moliere's
farce, "The Tricks of Scapin", Robert Hirsch undertakes
another of the great roles. Here some innovation is attempted.
To begin with, Scapin is a trickster in the old tradition of the clever
servant who plots the strategy of courtship for his master. Hirsch's
Scapin is healthy, cheerful, energetic, revelling in his physical
agility and his obvious superiority to the young gentlemen whom he
serves. Hirsch says that he has given the role certain qualities
he has observed in the city toughs of the real world. And surely
his Scapin has a fresh directness, a no-nonsense quality that seems to
make him his own master and nobody's servant.

DJANGO REINHARDT, the ill-fated gypsy, was a true artist,

one who demonstrated conclusively the power of art to renew itself and
flow into many channels. There is hardly a jazz guitarist in
the business today who doesn't owe something to Django. And Django
owed much to Louis Armstrong. He told once of how he switched his
style of playing to jazz after listening to two old Armstrong records
he bought in the Flea Market in Paris. It was the first jazz he
had heard. Django, who was born Jean Baptiste Reinhardt in
Belgium and who died in 1953 in France, was an extraordinary man. Most
of the fingers on his left hand were burned off when he fell asleep
with a cigarette. And this was before he began to play his startlingly
beautiful jazz. You can catch up with him- if you haven't
already- on ~RCA-Victor's album. "Djangology", made
up of tracks he recorded with Stephane Grappelly and the Quintet of
the Hot Club of France. This is a choice item and Grappely deserves
mention too, of course. He is one of the few men in history who
plays jazz on a violin. They play: "Minor Swing", "Honeysuckle
Rose", "Beyond the Sea", "Bricktop", "Heavy
Artillery", "Djangology", "After You've Gone", "Where
Are You, My Love"? "I Saw Stars", "Lover Man",
"Menilmontant" and "Swing 42". All this is great
proceedings- get the minutes. Kid Ory, the trombonist chicken
farmer, is also one of the solid anchor points of jazz. He dates
back to the days before the first sailing ship pulled into New Orleans.
His horn has blown loud and clear across the land for more years
than he cares to remember. Good Time Jazz has released a nice
two-record album which he made. He is starred against Alvin Alcorn,
trumpet; Phil Gomez, clarinet; Cedric Haywood, piano; Julian
Davidson, guitar; Wellman Braud, bass, and Minor Hall, drums.

The set contains "High Society", "Do What Ory

Say", "Down Home Rag", "Careless Love", Jazz Me Blues",
"Weary Blues", "Original Dixieland One-Step", "Bourbon
Street Parade", "Panama", "Toot, Toot, Tootsie",
"Oh Didn't He Ramble", "Beale Street Blues", "Maryland,
My Maryland", "1919 Rag", "Eh, La Bas", "Mood
Indigo", and "Bugle Call Rag". All this will serve
to show off the Ory style in fine fashion and is a must for those
who want to collect elements of the old-time jazz before it is too late
to lay hands on the gems.

MISCHA ELMAN shared last night's Lewisohn Stadium concert

with three American composers. His portion of the program-
and a big portion it was- consisted of half the major nineteenth-century
concertos for the violin: to wit, the Mendelssohn and the
Tchaikovsky. That is an evening of music-making that would faze many
a younger man; Mr& Elman is 70 years old. There were
8,000 persons at the Stadium who can tell their grandchildren that they
heard Elman. But, with all due respects and allowances, it must
truthfully be said that what they heard was more syrupy than sweet,
more mannered than musical. The occasion was sentimental; so was the
playing. #@#

The American part of the evening consisted of Paul

Creston's Dance Overture, William Schuman's "Chester"
from "New England Triptych" and two works of Wallingford Riegger,
Dance Rhythms,
Op& 58, and a Romanza for Strings, Op&
56~A.

The Creston is purely a potboiler, with Spanish, English,

French and American dances mixed into the stew. The Riegger,
with its Latin hesitation bounce, is just this side of the pale;
like his sweet, attractive Romanza, it belongs to what the composer
called his "Non-Dissonant (Mostly)" category of works. The Schuman
"Chester" takes off from an old William Billings tune with
rousing woodwind and brass effect. #@#

All these- potboilers

or no- provided a welcome breath of fresh air in the form of lively,
colorful, unstuffy works well suited for the great out-of-doors. It
was nice to have something a little up-to-date for a change. We have
Alfredo Antonini to thank for this healthy change of diet as well
as the lively performances of the Stadium Symphony.

A WOMAN who undergoes artificial insemination against the

wishes of her husband is the unlikely heroine of "A Question of Adultery",
yesterday's new British import at the Apollo.
Since an objective viewer might well conclude that this is not a situation
that would often arise, the film's extensive discussion of the
problem seems, at best, superfluous. In its present artless, low-budget
form, the subject matter seems designed to invite censorial wrath.

With Julie London enacting the central role with husky-voiced

sincerity, the longsuffering heroine is at least attractive. The explanation
offered for her conduct is a misguided attempt to save her marriage
to a neurotic husband left sterile as a result of an automobile
accident. Anthony Steel, as the husband, is a jealous type
who argues against her course and sues for divorce, labeling her action
adulterous. The actor plays his role glumly under the lurid direction
of Don Chaffey, as do Basil Sydney as his unsympathetic father
and Anton Diffring as an innocent bystander. After a protracted,
hysterical trial scene more notable for the frankness of its language
than for dramatic credibility, the jury, to no one's surprise,
leaves the legal question unresolved. When the husband drops the case
and returns to his wife, both seem sorry they brought the matter up in
the first place. So was the audience.

_LONDON, JULY 4_- For its final change of bill in its London season,
the Leningrad State Kirov Ballet chose tonight to give one
of those choreographic miscellanies known as a "gala program" at the
Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. No doubt the underlying idea
was to show that for all the elegance and artistry that have distinguished
its presentations thus far, it too could give a circus if it pleased.
And please it did, in every sense of the word, for it had
the audience shouting much of the time in a manner far from typical
of London audiences. At the end of the program, indeed, there was a
demonstration that lasted for forty-five minutes, and nothing could stop
it. Alexandre Livshitz repeated a fantastic
technical bit from the closing number, "Taras Bulba", but even
then there was a substantial number of diehards who seemed determined
not to go home at all. Only a plea from the house manager, John Collins,
finally broke up the party. #@#

But for all the manifest

intention to "show off", this was a circus with a difference, for
instead of descending in quality to what is known as a popular level,
it added further to the evidence that this is a very great dancing company.

The "Taras Bulba" excerpt is a rousing version of

Gogol's Ukrainian folk-tale choreographed by Bo Fenster to music
of Soloviev-Sedoi. It is danced by some thirty-five men and no women,
and it contains everything in the books- lusty comedy, gregarious
cavorting, and tricks that only madmen or Russians would attempt
to make the human body perform. Yuri Soloviev, Oleg Sokolov, Alexei
Zhitkov, Lev Sokolov, Yuri Korneyev and Mr& Livshitz were the
chief soloists, but everybody on stage was magnificent. #@#

At
the other extreme in character was the half-hour excerpt from the Petipa-Minkus
ballet "Bayaderka", which opened the evening. What
a man this Petipa was! And why do we in the West know so few of
his ballets? This scene is a "white ballet" in which a lovelorn
hero searches for his departed love's spirit among twenty-eight extraordinarily
beautiful "shadows" who can all dance like nothing human-
which, of course, is altogether fitting. The ensemble enters
in a long adagio passage that is of fantastic difficulty, as well as loveliness,
and adagio is the general medium of the piece. #@#

Its
ballerina, Olga Moiseyeva, performs simple miracles of beauty, and
Ludmilla Alexeyeva, Inna Korneyeva and Gabrielle Komleva make
up a threesome of exquisite accomplishments. Sergei Vikulov, as the
lone male, meets the competition well with some brilliant hits, but the
work is designed to belong to the ladies. The middle section
of the program was made up of short numbers, naturally enough of unequal
merit, but all of them pretty good at that. They consisted of a new
arrangement of "Nutcracker" excerpts danced stunningly by Irina
Kolpakova and Mr& Sokolev, with a large ensemble; a winning
little "Snow Maiden" variation by the adorable Galina Kekisheva;
two of those poetic adagios in Greek veils (and superb esthetic
acrobacy) by Alla Osipenko and Igor Chernishev in one case and Inna
Zubkovskaya and Yuri Kornevey in the other; an amusing character
pas de cinq called "Gossiping Women"; a stirring "Flames
of Paris" pas de deux by Xenia Ter-Stepanova and Alexandre Pavlovsky,
and a lovely version of Fokine's "Le Cygne" by Olga
Moiseyeva, which had to be repeated. Vadim Kalentiev was the
conductor. It was quite an evening!

A YEAR ago today, when the Democrats were fretting and frolicking
in Los Angeles and John F& Kennedy was still only an
able and ambitious Senator who yearned for the power and responsibility
of the Presidency, Theodore H& White had already compiled masses
of notes about the Presidential campaign of 1960. As the
pace of the quadrennial American political festival accelerated, Mr&
White took more notes. He traveled alternately with Mr& Kennedy
and with Richard M& Nixon. He asked intimate questions
and got frank answers from the members of what he calls the candidates'
"in-groups". He assembled quantities of facts about the nature
of American politics in general, as well as about the day-to-day course
of the closest Presidential election in American history.

Those of us who read the papers may think we know a good deal about
that election; how little we know of what there is to be known is
made humiliatingly clear by Mr& White in "The Making of the President
1960". This is a remarkable book and an astonishingly
interesting one. What might have been only warmed-over topical journalism
turns out to be an eyewitness contribution to history. Mr&
White, who is only a competent novelist, is a brilliant reporter. His
zest for specific detail, his sensitivity to emotional atmosphere,
his tireless industry and his crisply turned prose all contribute to the
effectiveness of his book.

#A LESSON IN POLITICS#

As a dramatic
narrative "The Making of the President 1960" is continuously
engrossing. And as an introduction to American politics it is highly
educational.

The author begins this volume with a close-up of Mr&

Kennedy, his family and his entourage waiting for the returns.
He then switches back to a consideration of the seven principal Presidential
hopefuls: five Democrats- Senator Hubert H& Humphrey,
Senator Stuart Symington, Senator Lyndon B& Johnson, Adlai
E& Stevenson and Mr& Kennedy- and two Republicans- Governor
Rockefeller and Mr& Nixon. Then, in chronological
order, Mr& White covers the primary campaigns, the conventions and
the Presidential campaign itself. In the process he writes at length
about many related matters: the importance of race, religion, local
tradition, bosses, organizations, zealous volunteers and television.
Mr& White is bluntly frank in his personal opinions. He frequently
cites intimate details that seem to come straight from the horse's
mouth, from numerous insiders and from Mr& Kennedy himself; but
never from Mr& Nixon, who looked on reporters with suspicion and
distrust. "Rarely in American history has there been a political
campaign that discussed issues less or clarified them less",
says Mr& White. Mr& Nixon, he believes, has no particular political
philosophy and mismanaged his own campaign. Although a skillful
politician and a courageous and honest man, Mr& Nixon, Mr& White
believes, ignored his own top-level planners, wasted time and effort
in the wrong regions, missed opportunities through indecision and
damaged his chances on television. Mr& Nixon is "a broody,
moody man, given to long stretches of introspection; he trusts only
himself and his wife. **h He is a man of major talent- but a man
of solitary, uncertain impulses. **h He was above all a friend seeker,
almost pathetic in his eagerness to be liked. He wanted to identify
with people and have a connection with them; **h the least inspiring
candidate since Alfred M& Landon". Mr& Kennedy,
Mr& White believes, "had mastered politics on so many different
levels that no other
American could match him". Calm, dignified, composed,
"superbly eloquent", Mr& Kennedy always knew everything
about everybody. He enlisted a staff of loyal experts and of many zealous
volunteers. Every decision was made quickly on sound grounds.
Efficiency was enforced and nothing was left to chance. Mr& Kennedy
did not neglect to cultivate the personal friendship of reporters.
Mr& White admires him profoundly and leaves no doubt that he is a
Democrat himself who expects Mr& Kennedy to be a fine President.

#PRESSURES PORTRAYED#

Throughout "The Making of a President"

Mr& White shows wonderfully well how the pressures pile up on
candidates, how decisions have constantly to be made, how fatigue and
illness and nervous strain wear candidates down, how subordinates play
key roles. And he makes many interesting comments. Here are several:

"The root question in American politics is always:

Who's the Man to See? To understand American politics is, simply,
to know people, to know the relative weight of names- who are
heroes, who are straw men, who controls, who does not. But to operate
in American politics one must go a step further- one must build a
bridge to such names, establish a warmth, a personal connection".

"In the hard life of politics it is well known that no platform

nor any program advanced by either major American party has any purpose
beyond expressing emotion". "All platforms are meaningless:
the program of either party is what lies in the vision and conscience
of the candidate the party chooses to lead it".

NOSTALGIA WEEK at Lewisohn Stadium, which had begun with

the appearance of the 70-year-old Mischa Elman on Tuesday night,
continued last night as Lily Pons led the list of celebrities in an
evening of French operatic excerpts. Miss Pons is certainly
not
70-no singer ever is- and yet the rewards of the evening again
lay more in paying tribute to a great figure of times gone by than in
present accomplishments. The better part of gallantry might be, perhaps,
to honor her perennial good looks and her gorgeous rainbow-hued gown,
and to chide the orchestra for not playing in the same keys in which
she had chosen to sing. No orchestra, however, could be expected
to follow a singer through quite as many adventures with pitch as
Miss Pons encountered last night. In all fairness, there were flashes
of the great stylist of yesteryear, flashes even of the old consummate
vocalism. #@#

One such moment came in the breathtaking way

Miss Pons sang the cadenza to Meyerbeer's "Shadow Song".
The years suddenly fell away at this point. On the whole, however, one
must wonder at just what it is that forces a beloved artist to besmirch
her own reputation as time marches inexorably on. Sharing
the program was the young French-Canadian tenor Richard Verreau,
making his stadium debut on this occasion. Mr& Verreau began shakily,
with a voice that tended toward an unpleasant whiteness when pushed
beyond middle volume. Later on this problem vanished, and the "Flower
Song" from Bizet's "Carmen" was beautifully and intelligently
projected.

Radio is easily outdistancing television in its strides to reach

the minority listener. Lower costs and a larger number of stations
are the key factors making such specialization possible. The
mushrooming of ~FM outlets, offering concerts (both jazz and classical),
lectures, and other special events, is a phenomenon which has had
a fair amount of publicity. Not so well known is the growth
of broadcasting operations aimed wholly or partly at Negro listeners-
an audience which, in the United States, comprises some 19,000,000
people with $20,000,000,000 to spend each year. Of course,
the nonwhite listener does his share of television watching. He even
buys a lot of the products he sees advertised- despite the fact that
the copy makes no special bid for his favor and sponsors rarely use any
but white models in commercials. But the growing number of
Negro-appeal radio stations, plus evidence of strong listener support
of their advertisers, give time salesmen an impressive argument as they
approach new prospects. It is estimated that more than 600 stations
(of a total of 3,400) do a significant amount of programing for the
Negro. At least 60 stations devote all of their time to reaching this
audience in about half of the 50 states. These and other figures
and comments have been reported in a special supplement of Sponsor
magazine, a trade publication for radio and ~TV advertisers. For
10 years Sponsor has issued an annual survey of the size and characteristics
of the Negro market and of successful techniques for reaching
this market through radio. In the past 10 years, Sponsor
observes, these trends have become apparent: _@_ Negro population
in the U&S& has increased 25 per cent while the white population
was growing by 18 per cent. "The forgotten 15 million"- as
Sponsor tagged the Negro market in its first survey- has become
a better-remembered 19 million. _@_ Advertisers are changing their
attitudes, both as to the significance of this market and the ways
of speaking to it. _@_ Stations programing to Negro listeners
are having to upgrade their shows in order to keep pace with rising educational,
economic, and cultural levels. Futhermore, the station which
wants real prestige must lead or participate in community improvement
projects, not simply serve on the air. In the last decade
the number of Negro-appeal radio program hours has risen at least 15
per cent, and the number of Negro-appeal stations has increased 30 per
cent, according to a research man quoted by Sponsor. A year
ago the Negro Radio Association was formed to spur research which
the 30-odd member stations are sure will bring in more business.

The 1960 census underscored the explosive character of the population

growth. It also brought home proof of something a casual observer
might have missed: that more than half of the U&S& Negroes live
outside the southeastern states. Also, the state with the largest
number of Negroes is New York- not in the South at all.
In New York City, ~WLIB boasts "more community service programs
than any other Negro station" and "one of the largest Negro
news staffs in America". And ~WWRL's colorful mobile unit,
cruising predominately Negro neighborhoods, is a frequent reminder
of that station's round-the-clock dedication to nonwhite interests.
Recently, ~WWRL won praise for its expose of particular cases
of employment agency deceit. A half-dozen other stations in the New
York area also bid for attention of the city's Negro population,
up about 50 per cent in the past decade. In all big cities outside
the South, and even in small towns within the South, radio stations
can be found beaming some or all of their programs at Negro listeners.
The Keystone Broadcasting System's Negro network includes
360 affiliated stations, whose signals reach more than half the total
U&S& Negro population. One question which inevitably
crops up is whether such stations have a future in a nation where the
Negro is moving into a fully integrated status. Whatever the
long-range impact of integration, the owners of Negro-appeal radio stations
these days know they have an audience and that it is loyal. Advertisers
have discovered the tendency of Negroes to shop for brand names
they have heard on stations catering to their special interests.
And many advertisers have been happy with the results of letting a Negro
disc jockey phrase the commercial in his own words, working only
from a fact sheet. What sets Negro-appeal programing apart from
other radio shows? Sponsor magazine notes the stress on popular
Negro bands and singers; rhythm-and-blues mood music; "race"
music, folk songs and melodies, and gospel programs. Furthermore, news
and special presentations inform the listener about groups, projects,
and personalities rarely mentioned on a general-appeal station. Advertising
copy frequently takes into account matters of special Negro
concern. Sponsor quotes John McLendon of the McLendon-Ebony
station group as saying that the Southern Negro is becoming conscious
of quality and and "does not wish to be associated with radio
which is any way degrading to his race; he tends to shy away from the
hooting and hollering personalities that originally made Negro radio
programs famous". The sociological impact is perhaps most
eloquently summed up in this quotation of J& Walter Carroll of ~KSAN,
San Francisco: "Negro-appeal radio is more important
to the Negro today, because it provides a direct and powerful
mirror in which the Negro can hear and see his ambitions, achievements
and desires. It will continue to be important as a means of orientation
to the Negro, seeking to become urbanized, as he tries to make
adjustment to the urban life. Negro radio is vitally necessary during
the process of assimilation".

Presentation of "The Life and Times of John Sloan" in

the Delaware Art Center here suggests a current nostalgia for human
values in art. Staged by way of announcing the gift of a large
and intimate Sloan collection by the artist's widow, Helen Farr
Sloan, to the Wilmington Society of the Fine Arts, the exhibition
presents a survey of Sloan's work. From early family portraits,
painted before he entered the schools of the Pennsylvania Academy of
the Fine Arts, the chronology extends to a group of paintings executed
in his last year (1951) and still part of his estate. Few
artists have left a life work so eloquent of the period in which they
lived. Few who have painted the scenes around them have done so with
so little bitterness. The paintings, drawings, prints, and illustrations
all reflect the manners, costumes, and mores of America in the first
half of the present century. Obviously Sloan's early years
were influenced by his close friend Robert Henri. As early as
1928, however, the Sloan style began to change. The dark pigments of
the early work were superseded by a brighter palette. The solidity of
brush stroke yielded to a hatching technique that finally led to virtual
abandonment of American genres in favor of single figure studies
and studio nudes. The exhibition presents all phases of Sloan's
many-sided art. In addition to the paintings are drawings, prints,
and illustrations. Sloan created such works for newspaper supplements
before syndication threw him out of a job and sent him to roam the
streets of New York, thereby building for America an incomparable
city survey from paintings of McSorley's Saloon to breezy clotheslines
on city roofs. One of the most appealing of the rooftop
canvases is "Sun and Wind on the Roof", with a woman and child
bracing themselves against flapping clothes and flying birds. Although
there are landscapes in the show (one of the strongest is a vista of
"Gloucester Harbor" in 1915), the human element was the compelling
factor in Sloan's art. Significant are such canvases as
"Bleeker Street, Saturday Night", with its typically American
crowd (Sloan never went abroad); the multifigure "Traveling Carnival",
in which action is vivified by lighting; or "Carmine
Theater, 1912", the only canvas with an ash can (and foraging dog),
although Sloan was a member of the famous "Eight", and of the
so-called "Ash-Can School", a term he resented. Not all
the paintings, however, are of cities. The exhibition touches briefly
on his sojourn in the Southwest ("Koshare in the Dust", a vigorous
Indian dance, and landscapes suggest the influence of western
color on his palette). The fact that Sloan was an extrovert,
concerned primarily with what he saw, adds greatly to the value of his
art as a human chronicle. There are 151 items in the Wilmington
show, including one painting by each member of the "Eight",
as well as work by Sloan's friends and students. Supplementing the
actual art are memorabilia- correspondence, diaries, books from the
artist's library, etc&. All belong to the collection being given
to Wilmington over a period of years by Mrs& Sloan, who has cherished
such revelatory items ever since she first studied with Sloan at
the Art Students League, New York, in the 1920's. To
enable students and the public to spot Sloan forgeries, the Delaware
Art Center (according to its director, Bruce St& John) will maintain
a complete file of photographs of all Sloan works, as well as
a card index file. The entire Sloan collection will be made available
at the center to all serious art students and historians. The
current exhibition, which remains on view through Oct& 29, has tapped
14 major collections and many private sources.

Any musician playing Beethoven here, where Beethoven was born,

is likely to examine his own interpretations with special care. In
a sense, he is offering Bonn what its famous son (who left as a youth)
never did- the sound of the composer's mature style. Robert
Riefling, who gave the only piano recital of the recently concluded
23rd Beethoven Festival, penetrated deep into the spirit of the
style.
His readings were careful without being fussy, and they were authoritative
without being presumptuous. The 32 ~C minor Variations
with which he opened moved fluently yet logically from one to another,
leaving the right impression of abundance under discipline.
The ~D minor Sonata, Op& 31 No& 2, introduced by dynamically
shaped arpeggios, was most engaging in its moments of quasi-recitative-
single lines in which the fingers seemed to be feeling their way
toward the idea to come. These inwardly dramatic moments showed the
kind of "opera style" of which Beethoven was genuinely capable,
but which did not take so kindly to the mechanics of staging.
Two late Sonatas, Op& 110 and 111, were played with similar insight,
the disarming simplicities of the Op& 111 Adagio made plain without
ever becoming obvious. The two were separated from each other by
the Six Bagatelles of Op& 126. Herr Riefling, in everything he
gave his large Beethoven Hall audience, proved himself as an interpreter
of unobtrusive authority. Volker Wangenheim, who conducted
Bonn's Sta^dtisches
Orchester on the following evening, made
one more conscious of the process of interpretation. Herr Wangenheim
has only recently become the city's music director, and is a young
man with a clear flair for the podium. But he weighted the Eighth
Symphony, at times, with a shuddering subjectivity which seemed
considerably at odds with the music. He might have been hoping, to all
appearances, that this relatively sunny symphony, in conjunction
with the Choral Fantasy at the end of the program, could amount
to something like the Ninth; but no amount of head-tossing could
make it so. The conductor's preoccupation with the business
of starting and stopping caused occasional raggedness, as with the first
orchestra entrance in the Fourth Piano Concerto, but when he put
his deliberations and obsequies aside and let the music move as designed,
it did so with plenty of spring. The concerto's soloist,
Hans Richter-Haaser, played with compensatory ease and economy, though
without the consummate plasticity to which we had been treated on
the previous evening by Herr Riefling. His was a burgomaster's
Beethoven, solid and sensible. Everybody returned after intermission
for the miscellaneous sweepings of the Fantasy for Piano, Chorus,
and Orchestra in ~C minor, made up by its composer to fill
out one of his programs. The entrance of the Sta^dtisches Gesangverein
(Bonn's civic chorus) was worth all the waiting, however, as the
young Rhenish voices finally brought the music to life. The
last program of this festival, which during two weeks had sampled most
compositional categories, brought the Cologne Rundfunk-Sinfonie-Orchester
and Rundfunkchor to Bonn's gold-filled hall for a performance
of the Missa Solemnis.

A tribe in ancient India believed the earth was a huge tea tray
resting on the backs of three giant elephants, which in turn stood
on the shell of a great tortoise. This theory eventually proved inexact.
But the primitive method of explaining the unknown with what is known
bears at least a symbolic resemblance to the methods of modern science.

It is the business of cosmologists, the scientists who

study the nature and structure of the universe, to try to solve the great
cosmic mysteries by using keys that have clicked open other doors.
These keys are the working principles of physics, mathematics and astronomy,
principles which are then extrapolated, or projected, to explain
phenomena of which we have little or no direct knowledge. In
the autumn of 1959, the British Broadcasting Corporation presented
a series of talks by four scientists competent in cosmology. Three
of these men discussed major theories of the universe while the other
acted as a moderator. The participants were Professor H& Bondi,
professor of mathematics at King's College, London; Dr& W&
B& Bonnor, reader in mathematics at Queen Elizabeth College,
London; Dr& R& A& Lyttleton, a lecturer at St& John's
College, Cambridge, and a reader in theoretical astronomy at the
University of Cambridge; and Dr& G& J& Whitrow, reader
in applied mathematics at the Imperial College of Science and Technology,
London. Dr& Whitrow functioned as moderator. The
programs were so well received by the British public that the arguments
have been published in a totally engrossing little book called, "Rival
Theories of Cosmology". Dr& Bonnor begins with
a discussion of the relativistic theories of the universe, based on
the general theory of relativity. First of all, and this has been calculated
by observation, the universe is expanding- that is, the galaxies
are receding from each other at immense speeds. Because of this
Dr& Bonnor holds that the universe is becoming more thinly populated
by stars and whatever else is there. This expansion has been going
on for an estimated eight billion years.

#EXPANDS AND CONTRACTS#

Dr& Bonnor supports the idea that the universe both expands and contracts,
that in several billion years the expansion will slow up and
reverse itself and that the contraction will set in. Then, after many
more billions of years, when all the galaxies are whistling toward a
common center, this movement will slow down and reverse itself again.

Professor Bondi disagrees with the expansion-contraction theory.

He supports the steady-state theory which holds that matter is continually
being created in space. For this reason, he says, the density
of the universe always remains the same even though the galaxies are
zooming away in all directions. New galaxies are forever being formed
to fill in the gaps left by the receding galaxies. If this
is true, then the universe today looks just as it did millions of years
ago and as it will look millions of years hence, even though the universe
is expanding. For new galaxies to be created, Professor Bondi
declares, it would only be necessary for a single hydrogen atom to be
created in an area the size of your living room once every few million
years. He contends this idea doesn't conflict with experiments on
which the principle of conservation of matter and energy is based because
some slight error must be assumed in such experiments. Dr&
Lyttleton backs the theory that we live in an electric universe
and this theory starts with the behavior of protons and electrons. Protons
and electrons bear opposite electrical charges which make them attract
each other, and when they are joined they make up an atom of hydrogen-
the basic building block of matter. The charges of the electron
and proton are believed to be exactly equal and opposite, but Dr&
Lyttleton is not so sure. Suppose, says Dr& Lyttleton, the proton
has a slightly greater charge than the electron (so slight it is
presently immeasurable). This would give the hydrogen atom a slight
charge-excess.

Now if one hydrogen atom were placed at the surface

of a large sphere of hydrogen atoms, it would be subject both to the
gravitation of the sphere and the charge-excess of all those atoms
in the sphere. Because electrical forces (the charge-excess) are far
more powerful than gravitation, the surface hydrogen atoms would shoot
away from the sphere. Dr& Lyttleton then imagines the universe
as a large hydrogen sphere with surface atoms shooting away from
it. This, he claims, would reasonably account for the expansion of the
universe.

#FLEETING GLIMPSE#

This slim book, while giving the

reader only a fleeting glimpse of the scientific mind confronting the
universe, has the appeal that informed conversation always has. Several
photographs and charts of galaxies help the non-scientist keep up with
the discussion, and the smooth language indicates the contributors
were determined to avoid the jargon that seems to work its way into almost
every field. It is clear from this discussion that cosmologists
of every persuasion look hopefully toward the day when a man-made
satellite can be equipped with optical devices which will open up
new vistas to science. Presently, the intense absorption of ultra-violet
rays in the earth's atmosphere seriously hinders ground observation.
These scientists are convinced that a telescope unclouded by the
earth's gases will go a long way toward bolstering or destroying cosmic
theories. There would seem to be some small solace in
the prospect that the missile race between nations is at the same time
accelerating the study of the space around us, giving us a long-sought
ladder from which to peer at alien regions. In doing away with
the tea tray, the elephants and the giant tortoise, science has developed
a series of rationally defensible explanations of the cosmos.
And although the universe may forever defy understanding, it might even
now be finding its match in the imagination of man.
"Roots", the new play at the brand-new Mayfair Theater on 46th
St&
which has been made over from a night club, is about the intellectual
and spiritual awakening of an English farm girl. Highly successful
in England before its transfer to New York, most of "Roots" is
as relentlessly dour as the trappings of the small new theater are
gaudy. Only in its final scene, where Beatie Bryant (Mary
Doyle) shakes off the disappointment of being jilted by her intellectual
lover and proclaims her emancipation do we get much which makes worthwhile
the series of boorish rustic happenings we have had to watch
for most of the first two and one-half acts. The burden of Mr&
Wesker's message is that people living close to the soil (at least
in England) are not the happy, fine, strong, natural, earthy people
city-bred intellectuals imagine. Rather they are genuine clods, proud
of their cloddishness and openly antagonistic to the illuminating
influences of aesthetics or thought. They care no more for politics,
says Mr& Wesker, than they do for a symphony. Seeming to have roots
in the soil, they actually have none in life. They dwell, in short,
in the doltish twilight in which peasants and serfs of the past are
commonly reported to have lived. But this is a theme which does
not take so much time to state as Mr& Wesker dedicates to it. So
much untidiness of mind and household does not attract the interest
of the theatergoer (unless he has been living in a gilded palace, perhaps,
and wants a real big heap of contrast). The messy meals, the washing
of dishes, the drying of clothes may be realism, but there is such
a thing as redundancy. Now for the good points. Miss Doyle
as Beatie has a great fund of animal spirits, a strong voice and a
warm smile. She is just home from a sojourn in London where she has
become the sweetheart of a young fellow named Ronnie (we never do
see him) and has been subjected to a first course in thinking and appreciating,
including a dose of good British socialism. But while she
is able to tell her retarded family about the new world she has seen open
before her, Ronnie has not been able to observe her progress, and
instead of appearing at a family party to be looked over like a new bull,
he sends Beatie a letter of dismissal. Beatie, getting
no sympathy for her misfortune, soon rallies and finds that although she
has lost a lover she has gained her freedom. Despite a too long sustained
declamatory flight, this final speech is convincing, and we see
why British audiences apparently were impressed by "Roots".

There were several fairly good minor portraits in the play, including
William Hansen's impersonation of a stubborn, rather pathetic
father, and Katherine Squire's vigorous characterization of a farm
mother who brooked no hifalutin' nonsense from her daughter, or anyone
else. But I am afraid Mr& Wesker's meat and potatoes dish
isn't well seasoned enough for local audiences.

SHAKESPEARE had a word for everything, even for the rain

that disrupted Wednesday night's "Much Ado About Nothing" opening
the season of free theatre in Central Park. The New
York Shakespeare Festival, which is using the Wollman Memorial Skating
Rink while its theatre near the Belvedere is being completed,
began bravely. Joseph Papp, impassioned founder of the festival and
director of "Much Ado", had a vibrant, colorful production under
way. Using a wide stage resourcefully he mingled music and dance with
Shakespeare's words in a spirited mixture. The audience
filled all the seats inside the Wollman enclosure and overflowed onto
the lawns outside the fence. The barbed sallies of Beatrice and Benedick,
so contemporary to a public inured to the humor of insult, raised
chuckles. The simple-minded comedy of Dogberry and Verges, also
familiar in a day that responds easily to jokes skimmed off the top of
writers' heads, evoked laughter. The vivacity of the masquers'
party at Leonato's palace, with the Spanish motif in the music and
dancing in honor of the visiting Prince of Arragon, cast a spell of
delight. #@#

As "Much Ado" turned serious while the insipid

Claudio rejected Hero at the altar, a sprinkle began to fall. At
first hardly a person in the audience moved, although some umbrellas
were opened. But the rain came more heavily, and men and women in
light summer clothes began to depart. The grieving Hero and her father,
Leonato, followed by the Friar, left the stage. A voice on the
loudspeaker system announced that if the rain let up the performance
would resume in ten minutes. More than half the audience departed.
Some remained in the Wollman enclosure, fortified with raincoats
or with newspapers to cover their heads. Others huddled under the trees
outside the fence. Twenty minutes after the interruption, although
it was still raining, the play was resumed at the point in the fourth
act where it had been stopped. Beatrice (Nan Martin) and
Benedick (J& D& Cannon) took their places on the stage. In their
very first speeches it was clear that Shakespeare, like a Nostradamus,
had foreseen this moment. Said Benedick: "Lady Beatrice,
have you wept all this while"? Replied Beatrice:
"Yea, and I will weep a while longer". The heavens refused
to give up their weeping. The gallant company completed Act /4,
and got through part of Act /5,. But the final scenes could not
be played. If any among the hardy hundreds who sat in the downpour
are in doubt about how it comes out, let them take comfort. "Much
Ado" ends happily. #@#

The Parks Department has done an admirable

job of preparing the Wollman Rink for Shakespeare. One could
hardly blame Newbold Morris, the Parks Commissioner, for devoting
so much grateful mention to the department's technicians who at short
notice provided the stage with its rising platforms, its balcony,
its generous wings and even its impressive trapdoors for the use of the
villains. Eldon Elder, who designed the stage, also created
a gay, spacious set that blended attractively with the park background
and Shakespeare's lighthearted mood. Mr& Papp has directed a
performance that has verve and pace, although he has tolerated obvious
business to garner easy laughs where elegance and consistency of style
would be preferable.

Elisabeth Schwarzkopf sang so magnificently Saturday night at

Hunter College that it seems a pity to have to register any complaints.
Still a demurrer or two must be entered. Schwarzkopf is,
of course, Schwarzkopf. For style and assurance, for a supreme and
regal bearing there is still no one who can touch her. If the voice
is just a shade less glorious than it used to be, it is still a beautiful
instrument, controlled and flexible. Put to the service of lieder
of Schubert, Brahms, Strauss and Wolf in a dramatical and musical
way, it made its effect with ease and precision. But what has
been happening recently might be described as creeping mannerism. Instead
of her old confidence in the simplest, purest, most moving musical
expression, Miss Schwarzkopf is letting herself be tempted by the classic
sin of artistic pride- that subtle vanity that sometimes misleads
a great artist into thinking that he or she can somehow better the
music by bringing to it something extra, some personal dramatic touch
imposed from the outside. The symptoms Saturday night were
unmistakable. Clever light songs were overly coy, tragic songs a little
too melodramatic. There was an extra pause here, a gasp or a sigh
there, here and there an extra little twist of a word or note, all in
the interest of effect. The result was like that of a beautiful painting
with some of the highlights touched up almost to the point of garishness.

There were stunning musical phrases too, and sometimes

the deepest kind of musical and poetic absorption and communication.
Miss Schwarzkopf and her excellent pianist, John Wustman, often achieved
the highest lyrical ideals of the lieder tradition. All the more
reason why there should have been no place for the frills; Miss
Schwarzkopf is too great an artist to need them.

THE dance, dancers and dance enthusiasts (8,500 of them)

had a much better time of it at Lewisohn Stadium on Saturday night
than all had had two nights earlier, when Stadium Concerts presented
the first of two dance programs. On Saturday, the orchestra
was sensibly situated down on the field, the stage floor was apparently
in decent condition for dancing, and the order of the program improved.
#@#

There was, additionally, a bonus for the Saturday-night

patrons. Alvin Ailey and Carmen De Lavallade appeared in the first
New York performance of Mr& Ailey's "Roots of the Blues",
a work given its premiere three weeks ago at the Boston Arts Festival.

Otherwise, the program included, as on Thursday, the

Taras-Tchaikovsky "Design for Strings", the Dollar-Britten
"Divertimento", the Dollar-De Banfield "The Duel" and
the pas de deux from "The Nutcracker". Maria Tallchief
and Erik Bruhn, who danced the "Nutcracker" pas de deux, were
also seen in the Petipa-Minkus pas de deux from "Don Quixote",
another brilliant showpiece that displayed their technical prowess handsomely.

Among the other solo ballet dancers of the evening,

Elisabeth Carroll and Ivan Allen were particularly impressive in
their roles in "The Duel", a work that depends so much upon the
precision and incisiveness of the two principal combatants. Mr&
Ailey's "Roots of the Blues", an earthy and very human modern
dance work, provided strong contrast to the ballet selections of
the evening. #@#

As Brother John Sellers sang five "blues"

to the guitar and drum accompaniments of Bruce Langhorne and Shep
Shepard, Mr& Ailey and Miss De Lavallade went through volatile
dances that were by turns insinuating, threatening, contemptuous and
ecstatic. Their props were two stepladders, a chair and a palm
fan. He wore the clothes of a laborer, and she was wondrously seductive
in a yellow and orange dress. The cat-like sinuousness
and agility of both dancers were exploited in leaps, lifts, crawls and
slides that were almost invariably compelling in a work of strong, sometimes
almost frightening, tensions. "Roots of the Blues" may
not be for gentle souls, but others should welcome its super-charged impact.

"PERHAPS it is better to stay at home. The armchair traveler

preserves his illusions". This somewhat cynical comment may
be found in "Blue Skies, Brown Studies", a collection of travel
essays by William Sansom, who would never consider staying home for
long. Mr& Sansom is English, bearded, formidably cultivated, the
versatile author of numerous volumes of short stories, of novels and
of pieces that are neither short stories nor travel articles but something
midway between. The only man alive who seems qualified by
his learning, his disposition and his addiction to a baroque luxuriance
of language to inherit the literary mantle of Sacheverell Sitwell,
Mr& Sansom writes of foreign parts with a dedication to decoration
worthy of a pastry chef creating a wedding cake for the marriage of
a Hungarian beauty (her third) and an American multimillionaire (his
fourth). The result is rather wonderful, but so rich as to be indigestible
if taken in too thick slices. There are sixteen essays
in "Blue Skies, Brown Studies". Most of them were written between
1953 and 1960 and originally appeared in various magazines. All
are well written and are overwritten. But, even if Mr& Sansom labors
too hard to extract more refinements of meaning and feeling from
his travel experiences than the limits of language allow, he still can
charm and astound. Too many books and articles are just assembled by
putting one word after another. Mr& Sansom actually <writes> his
with a nice ear for a gracefully composed sentence, with an intense
relish in all the metaphorical resources of English, with a thick shower
of sophisticated, cultural references.

#A CONTEMPLATIVE CONNOISSEUR#
"I like to sniff a place, and reproduce what it really smells
and looks like, its color, its particular kind of life". This is
an exact description of what Mr& Sansom does. He ignores guidebook
facts. He only rarely tells a personal anecdote and hardly ever sketches
an individual or quotes his opinions. It is an over-all impression
Mr& Sansom strives for, an impression compounded of visual details,
of a savory mixture of smells, of much loving attention to architecture
and scenery, of lights and shadows, of intangibles of atmosphere
and of echoes of the past. William Sansom writes only about
Europe in this book and frequently of such familiar places as London,
Vienna, the French Riviera and the Norwegian fjords. But no
matter what he writes about he brings to his subject his own original
mind and his own sensitive reactions. "A writer lives, at best, in
a state of astonishment", he says. "Beneath any feeling he has of
the good or the evil of the world lies a deeper one of wonder at it
all. To transmit that feeling he writes". This may not be true of
many writers, but it certainly is true of Mr& Sansom. So in these
pages one can share his wonder at the traditional fiesta of St& Torpetius
that still persists in St& Tropez; at the sun and the
heat of Mediterranean lands, always much brighter and hotter to an Englishman
than to an American used to summers in New York or Kansas
City; at the supreme delights to be found in one of the world's
finest restaurants, La Bonne Auberge, which is situated on the seacoast
twenty miles west of the Nice airport; and at the infinite variety
of London. Mr& Sansom can be eloquent in a spectacular
way which recalls (to those who recall easily) the statues of Bernini
and the gigantic paintings of Tintoretto. He can coin a neat phrase:
"a street spattered with an invigoration of people"; tulips
with "petals wide and shaggy as a spaniel's ears"; after a
snowstorm a landscape smelling "of woodsmoke and clarity". And, for
all his lacquered, almost Byzantine self-consciousness, he can make
one recognize the aptness of an unexpected comparison.
#BEAUTY BORROWED
FROM AFAR#

In one of his best essays Mr& Sansom expresses

his enthusiasm for the many country mansions designed by Andrea Palladio
himself that dot the environs of Vicenza. How far that pedimented
and pillared style has shed its influence Mr& Sansom reminds
us thus: "The white colonnaded, cedar-roofed Southern mansion
is directly traceable via the grey and buff stone of grey-skied England
to the golden stucco of one particular part of the blue South,
the Palladian orbit stretching out from Vicenza: the old mind of
Andrea Palladio still smiles from behind many an old rocking chair
on a Southern porch, the deep friezes of his architectonic music rise
firm above the shallower freeze in the kitchen, his feeling for light
and shade brings a glitter from a tall mint julep, his sense of columns
framing the warm velvet night has brought together a million couple
of mating lips". Nice, even if a trifle gaudy. "Blue Skies,
Brown Studies" is illustrated with numerous excellent photographs.

IN recent days there have been extensive lamentations over

the absence of original drama on television, but not for years have
many regretted the passing of new plays on radio. ~WBAI, the listener-supported
outlet on the frequency-modulation band, has decided
to do what it can to correct this aural void. Yesterday it offered
"Poised for Violence", by Jean Reavey. ~WBAI is on
the right track: in the sound medium there has been excessive emphasis
on music and news and there could and should be a place for theatre,
as the Canadian and British Broadcasting Corporations continue
to demonstrate. Unfortunately, "Poised for Violence" was not
the happiest vehicle with which to make the point. #@#

Mrs&
Reavey's work is written for the stage- it is mentioned for an off-Broadway
production in the fall- and, in addition, employs an avant-garde
structure that particularly needs to be seen if comprehension
is to be encouraged. The play's device is to explore society's
obsession with disaster and violence through the eyes of a group
of artist's models who remain part of someone else's painting
rather than just be themselves. In a succession of scenes they appear
in different guises- patrons of a cafe, performers in a circus and
participants in a family picnic- but in each instance they inevitably
put ugliness before beauty. #@#

Somewhere in Mrs& Reavey's

play there is both protest and aspiration of merit. But its relentless
discursiveness and determined complexity are so overwhelming that
after an hour and a half a listener's stamina begins to wilt. Moreover,
her central figures are so busily fulfilling their multitudinous
assignments that none emerges as an arresting individual in his own
right or as a provocative symbol of mankind's ills. But quite
conceivably an altogether different impression will obtain when the
work is offered in the theatre and there can be other effects to relieve
the burden on the author's words. Which in itself is an immediate
reward of the ~WBAI experiment; good radio drama has its own
special demands that badly need reinvigoration.

A WEEKLY showcase for contemporary music, from the austere

archaism of Stravinsky to the bleeps and bloops of electronic music,
is celebrating its fourth anniversary this month. Titled "What's
New in Music"? the enterprising program is heard Saturday
afternoons on radio station ~WQXR. The brief notes
introducing each work offer salient historical or technical points, and
many listeners are probably grateful for being intelligently taken by
the hand through an often difficult maze. The show is programed and
written by the station's assistant continuity editor, Chuck Briefer.

The first Saturday in each month is set aside for new recordings.
Last Saturday's interesting melange included Ernst Toch,
Karlheinz Stockhausen, Richard Yardumian and a brief excerpt from
a new "space" opera by the Swedish composer, Karl-Birger Blomdahl.

Other Saturdays are devoted to studies of a selected American

composer, a particular type of music or the music of a given
country. It is commendable that a regularly scheduled hour is
set aside for an introduction to the contemporary musical scene. But
one wishes, when the appetite is whetted, as it was in the case of
the all-too-brief excerpt from the Blomdahl opera, that further opportunity
would be provided both for hearing the works in their entirety
and for a closer analytical look at the sense and nature of the compositions.

THE Moiseyev Dance Company dropped in at Madison Square

Garden last night for the first of four farewell performances before
it brings its long American tour to a close. It is not simply
giving a repetition of the program it gave during its New York
engagement earlier this season, but has brought back many of the numbers
that were on the bill when it paid us its first visit and won everybody's
heart. It is good to see those numbers again. The "Suite
of Old Russian Dances" that opened that inaugural program
with the slow and modest entrance of the maidens and built steadily into
typical Moiseyev vigor and warmth; the amusing "Yurochka",
in which a hard-to-please young man is given his come-uppance; the
lovely (and of course vigorous) "Polyanka" or "The Meadow";
the three Moldavian dances entitled "Zhok"; the sweet and funny
little dance about potato planting called "Bul'ba"; and
the hilarious picture of social life in an earlier day called "City
Quadrille" are all just as good as one remembers them to have been,
and they are welcome back.

So, for that matter, are the newer

dances- the "Kalmuk Dance" with its animal movements, that genial
juggling act by Sergei Tsvetkov called "The Platter", the
rousing and beautiful betrothal celebration called "Summer", "The
Three Shepherds" of Azerbaijan hopping up on their staffs,
and, of course, the trenchant "Rock 'n' Roll".
As autumn starts its annual sweep, few Americans and Canadians realize
how fortunate they are in having the world's finest fall coloring.
Spectacular displays of this sort are relatively rare in the entire
land surface of the earth. The only other regions so blessed are the
British Isles, western Europe, eastern China, southern Chile and
parts of Japan, New Zealand and Tasmania. Their autumn tints are
all fairly low keyed compared with the fiery stabs of crimson, gold,
purple, bronze, blue and vermilion that flame up in North America.
Jack Frost is not really responsible for this great seasonal spectacle;
in fact, a freezing autumn dulls the blaze. The best effects come
from a combination of temperate climate and plenty of late-summer rain,
followed by sunny days and cool nights. Foliage pilgrimages, either
organized or individual, are becoming an autumn item for more and
more Americans each year. Below is a specific guide, keyed to the calendar.
#NATURE#

_CANADA._ Late September finds Quebec's

color at its peak, especially in the Laurentian hills and in the area
south of the St& Lawrence River. In the Maritime provinces farther
east, the tones are a little quieter. Ontario's foliage is most
vivid from about Sept& 23 to Oct& 10, with both Muskoka (100
miles north of Toronto) and Haliburton (125 miles northwest of Toronto)
holding color cavalcades starting Sept& 23. In the Canadian
Rockies, great groves of aspen are already glinting gold. _NEW ENGLAND._
Vermont's sugar maples are scarlet from Sept& 25 to Oct&
15, and often hit a height in early October. New Hampshire figures
its peak around Columbus Day and boasts of all its hardwoods including
the yellow of the birches. The shades tend to be a little softer
in the forests that blanket so much of Maine. In western Massachusetts
and northwest Connecticut, the Berkshires are at their vibrant
prime the first week of October.

#MIDDLE ATLANTIC STATES._ The

Adirondacks blaze brightest in early October, choice routes being
9~N from Saratoga up to Lake George and 73 and 86 in the Lake
Placid area. Farther south in New York there is a heavy haze of color
over the Catskills in mid-October, notably along routes 23 and 23~A.
About the same time the Alleghenies and Poconos in Pennsylvania
are magnificent- Renovo holds its annual Flaming Foliage Festival
on Oct& 14, 15. New Jersey's color varies from staccato
to pastel all the way from the Delaware Water Gap to Cape May. _SOUTHEAST._
During the first half of October the Blue Ridge and
other parts of the Appalachians provide a spectacle stretching from
Maryland and West Virginia to Georgia. The most brilliant displays
are along the Skyline Drive above Virginia's Shenandoah Valley
and throughout the Great Smokies between North Carolina and Tennessee.

_MIDWEST._ Michigan, Wisconsin and Minnesota have many

superb stretches of color which reach their height from the last few
days of September well into October, especially in their northern sections,
<e&g&>, Wisconsin's Vilas County whose Colorama
celebration
is Sept& 29-Oct& 8. In Wisconsin, take route 55 north
of Shawano or routes 78 and 60 from Portage to Prairie du Chien.
In Michigan, there is fine color on route 27 up to the Mackinac Straits,
while the views around Marquette and Iron Mountain in the
Upper Peninsula are spectacular. In Minnesota, Arrowhead County
and route 53 north to International Falls are outstanding. Farther
south, there are attractive patches all the way to the Ozarks, with some
seasonal peaks as late as early November. Illinois' Shawnee
National Forest, Missouri's Iron County and the maples of Hiawatha,
Kan& should be at their best in mid-October. _THE WEST._
The Rockies have many "Aspencades", which are organized tours
of the aspen areas with frequent stops at vantage points for viewing
the golden panoramas. In Colorado, Ouray has its Fall Color Week
Sept& 22-29, Rye and Salida both sponsor Aspencades Sept& 24,
and Steamboat Springs has a week-long Aspencade Sept& 25-30.
New Mexico's biggest is at Ruidoso Oct& 7, 8, while Alamogordo
and Cloudcroft cooperate in similar trips Oct& 1.

#AMERICANA#
_PLEASURE DOMES._ Two sharply contrasting places designed for
public enjoyment are now on display. The Corn Palace at Mitchell,
S& Dak&, "the world's corniest building", has a carnival through
Sept& 23 headlining the Three Stooges and Pee Wee Hunt.
Since 1892 ears of red, yellow, purple and white corn have annually
been nailed to 11 big picture panels to create hugh "paintings". The
1961 theme is the Dakota Territorial Centennial, with the pictures
including the Lewis and Clark expedition, the first river steamboat,
the 1876 gold rush, a little red schoolhouse on the prairie, and
today's construction of large Missouri River reservoirs. The panels
will stay up until they are replaced next summer. Longwood
Gardens, near Kennett Square, Pa& (about 12 miles from Wilmington,
Del&), was developed and heavily endowed by the late Pierre S&
du Pont. Every Wednesday night through Oct& 11 there will be
an elaborate colored fountain display, with 229 nozzles throwing jets
of water up to 130 feet. The "peacock tail" nozzle throws a giant
fan of water 100 feet wide and 40 feet high. The gardens themselves
are open free of charge the year round, and the 192 permanent employes
make sure that not a dead or wilted flower is ever seen indoors or out
by any visitor. The greenhouses alone cover 3-1/2 acres.

#BOOKS#

_CLOCK WITHOUT HANDS._ Carson McCullers, after a long, painful

illness that might have crushed a less-indomitable soul, has come
back with an absolute gem of a novel which jumped high on best-seller
lists even before official publication. Though the subject- segregation
in her native South- has been thoroughly worked, Miss McCullers
uses her poet's instinct and storyteller's skill to reaffirm
her place at the very top of modern American writing. @ _FRANNY
AND ZOOEY._ With an art that almost conceals art, J& D& Salinger
can create a fictional world so authentic that it hurts. Here, in
the most eagerly awaited novel of the season (his first since <The
Catcher in the Rye>), he tells of a college girl in flight from the
life around her and the tart but sympathetic help she gets from her
25-year-old brother. @ _THE HEAD OF MONSIEUR M&,_ Althea Urn.
A deft, hilarious satire on very high French society involving a
statesman with two enviable possessions, a lovely young bride and a head
containing such weighty thoughts that he has occasionally to remove
it for greater comfort. There is probably a moral in all this about
"mind <vs&> heart". @ _A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH._ Virgilia
Peterson, a critic by trade, has turned her critical eye pitilessly
and honestly on herself in an autobiography more of the mind and
heart than of specific events. It is an engrossing commentary on a repressive,
upper-middle-class New York way of life in the first part
of this
century. @ _DARK RIDER._ This retelling by Louis Zara of
the brief, anguished life of Stephen Crane- poet and master novelist
at 23, dead at 28- is in novelized form but does not abuse its tragic
subject. @ _RURAL FREE,_ Rachel Peden. Subtitled <A Farmwife's
Almanac of Country Living>, this is a gentle and nostalgic
chronicle of the changing seasons seen through the clear, humorous
eye of a Hoosier housewife and popular columnist. @

#DANCE#
_RUSSIANS,
FILIPINOS._ Two noted troupes from overseas will get the
fall dance season off to a sparkling start. Leningrad's Kirov Ballet,
famous for classic purity of technique, begins its first U&S&
tour in New York (through Sept& 30). The Bayanihan Philippine
Dance Company, with music and dances that depict the many facets
of Filipino culture, opens its 60-city U&S& tour in San Francisco
(through Sept& 24) then, via one-night stands, moves on to
Los
los Angeles (Sept& 29-Oct& 1).

#FESTIVALS#

_ACROSS THE LAND._

With harvests in full swing, you can enjoy festivals for grapes
at Sonoma, Calif& (Sept& 22-24), as well as for cranberries
at Bandon, Ore& (Sept& 28-Oct& 1), for buckwheat at Kingwood,
W& Va& (Sept& 28-30), sugar cane at New Iberia, La& (Sept&
29-Oct& 1) and tobacco at Richmond, Va& (Sept& 23-30).

The mule is honored at Benson, N&C& (Sept& 22,23)

and at Boron, Calif& (Sept& 24-Oct& 1), while the legend
of
the Maid of the Mist is celebrated at Niagara Falls through the
24th. The fine old mansions of U&S& Grant's old home town of
Galena, Ill& are open for inspection (Sept& 23, 24). An archery
tournament will be held at North Falmouth, Mass& (Sept& 23,
24). The 300th anniversaries of Staten Island (through Sept& 23)
and of Mamaroneck, N&Y& (through Sept& 24) will both include
parades and pageants.

#MOVIES#

_PURPLE NOON:_ This French

film, set in Italy, is a summertime splurge in shock and terror all
shot in lovely sunny scenery- so breath-taking that at times you
almost forget the horrors the movie is dealing with. But slowly they
take over as Alain Delon (LIFE, Sept& 15), playing a sometimes
appealing but always criminal boy, casually tells a rich and foot-loose
American that he is going to murder him, then does it even while
the American is trying to puzzle out how Delon expects to profit from
the act.

#RECORDS#

_NORMA._ Callas devotees will have good

reason to do their customary cart wheels over a new and complete stereo
version of the Bellini opera. Maria goes all out as a Druid princess
who gets two-timed by a Roman big shot. By turns, her beautifully
sung Norma is fierce, tender, venomous and pitiful. The tenor lead,
Franco Corelli, and La Scala cast under Maestro Tullio Serafin
are all first rate. @ _JEREMIAH PEABODY'S POLYUNSATURATED QUICK
DISSOLVING FAST ACTING PLEASANT TASTING GREEN AND PURPLE PILLS._
In a raucous take-off on radio commercials, Singer Ray Stevens hawks
a cure-all for neuritis, neuralgia, head-cold distress, beriberi,
overweight, fungus, mungus and water on the knee. @
Of the nation's eight million pleasure-boat owners a sizable number
have learned that late autumn is one of the loveliest seasons to be afloat-
at least in that broad balmy region that lies below America's
belt line. Waterways are busy right now from the Virginia capes
to the Texas coast. There true yachtsmen often find November winds
steadier, the waters cooler, the fish hungrier, and rivers more pleasant-
less turbulence and mud, and fewer floating logs. More and
more boats move overland on wheels (1.8 million trailers are now in
use) and Midwesterners taking long weekends can travel south with their
craft. In the Southwest, the fall brings out flotillas of boatsmen
who find the summer too hot for comfort. And on northern shores indomitable
sailors from Long Island to Lake Michigan will beat around
the buoys in dozens of frostbite races. Some pleasant fall cruising
country is mapped out below.

#BOATING#

_WEST COAST._ Pleasure

boating is just scooting into its best months in California as crisp
breezes bring out craft of every size on every kind of water- ocean,
lake and reservoir. Shore facilities are enormous- Los Angeles
harbors 5,000 boats, and Long Beach 3,000- but marinas are crowded
everywhere. New docks and ramps are being rushed at Playa del Rey,
Ventura, Dana Point, Oceanside and Mission Bay. Inland,
outboard motorists welcome cooler weather and the chance to buzz over
Colorado River sandbars and Lake Mead. Newest small-boat playground
is the Salton Sea, a once-dry desert sinkhole which is now a
salty lake 42 miles long and 235 feet below sea level. On Nov& 11,
12, racers will drive their flying shingles in 5-mile laps over its 500-mile
speedboat course. In San Francisco Bay, winds are gusty and
undependable
during this season. A sailboat may have a bone in her teeth
one minute and lie becalmed the next. But regattas are scheduled
right up to Christmas. The Corinthian Yacht Club in Tiburon launches
its winter races Nov& 5. _GULF COAST._ Hurricane Carla damaged
70% of the marinas in the Galveston-Port Aransas area but
fuel service is back to normal, and explorers can roam as far west as
Port Isabel on the Mexican border. Sailing activity is slowed down
by Texas northers, but power cruisers can move freely, poking into the
San Jacinto, Trinity and Brazos rivers (fine tarpon fishing in
the Brazos) or pushing eastward to the pirate country of Barataria.
Off Grand Isle, yachters often visit the towering oil rigs. The Mississippi
Sound leads into a protected waterway running about 200 miles
from Pascagoula to Apalachicola. _LOWER MISSISSIPPI._ Memphis
stinkpotters like McKellar Lake, inside the city limits, and sailors
look for autumn winds at Arkabutla Lake where fall racing is
now in progress. River cruising for small craft is ideal in November.
At New Orleans, 25-mile-square Lake Pontchartrain has few squalls
and year-long boating. Marinas are less plush than the Florida type
but service is good and Creole cooking better. _~TVA LAKES._
Ten thousand twisty miles of shoreline frame the 30-odd lakes in the
vast Tennessee River system that loops in and out of seven states.
When dam construction began in 1933, fewer than 600 boats used these
waters; today there are 48,500.

{A YEAR} ago it was bruited that the primary character

in Erich
Maria Remarque's new novel was based on the Marquis Alfonso
de Portago, the Spanish nobleman who died driving in the Mille Miglia
automobile race of 1957. If this was in fact Mr& Remarque's
intention he has achieved a notable failure. Clerfayt of "Heaven
Has No Favorites" resembles Portago only in that he is male and
a race-driver- quite a bad race-driver, whereas Portago was a good
one. He is a dull, unformed, and aimless person; the twelfth Marquis
de Portago was intelligent, purposeful, and passionate. One
looked forward to Mr& Remarque's ninth book if only because
not even a reasonably good novel has yet been written grounded on automobile
racing, as dramatic a sport as mankind has devised. Unhappily,
"Heaven Has No Favorites" does not alter the record except to
add one more bad book to the list. Mr& Remarque's conception
of this novel was sound and perhaps even noble. He proposed throwing
together a man in an occupation of high hazard and a woman balanced
on a knife-edge between death from tuberculosis and recovery. His
treatment of it is something else. His heroine chooses to die- the
price of recovery, years under the strict regimen of a sanatorium, being
higher than she wishes to pay. Her lover precedes her in death, at
the wheel, and presumably he too has chosen. Between the first meeting
of Clerfayt and Lillian and this dismal denouement, Mr& Remarque
has laid down many pages of junior-philosophical discourse, some demure
and rather fetching love-making, pleasant talk about some of the
countryside and restaurants of Europe, and a modicum of automobile racing.
The ramblings on life, death, and the wonder of it all are distressing;
the love-making, perhaps because it is pale and low-key when
one has been conditioned to expect harsh colors and explicitness, is
often charming; the automobile racing bears little relation to reality.

This latter failure is more than merely bad reportage and

it is distinctly more important than it would have been had the author
drawn Clerfayt as, say, a tournament golfer. Hazards to life and
limb on the golf course, while existent, are actuarially insignificant.
Race-drivers, on the other hand, are quite often killed on the circuit,
and since it was obviously Mr& Remarque's intention to establish
automobile racing as life in microcosm, one might reasonably have
expected him to demonstrate precise knowledge not only of techniques
but of mores and attitudes. He does not. The jacket biography describes
him as a former racing driver, and he may indeed have been, although
I do not recall having encountered his name either in the records
or the literature. Perhaps he has only forgotten a great deal. The
book carries a disclaimer in which Remarque says it has been necessary
for him to take minor liberties with some of the procedures and formalities
of racing. The necessity is not clear to me, and, in any case,
to present a case-hardened race-driver as saying he has left his car,
which, or whom, he calls "Giuseppe", parked "on the Place Vendome
sneering at a dozen Bentleys and Rolls-Royces parked around
him" is not a liberty; it is an absurdity. But it is in the
matter of preoccupation with death, which is the primary concern of
the book, that Remarque's failure is plainest. Clerfayt is neurotic,
preoccupied, and passive. To be human, he believes, is to seek one's
own destruction: the Freudian "death-wish" cliche inevitably
cited whenever laymen talk about auto race-drivers. In point of fact,
the race-drivers one knows are nearly always intelligent, healthy
technicians who differ from other technicians only in the depth of the
passion they feel for the work by which they live. A Clerfayt may moon
on about the face of Death in the cockpit; a Portago could say,
as he did say to me, "If I die tomorrow, still I have had twenty-eight
wonderful years; but I shan't die tomorrow; I'll live
to be 105". Clerfayt, transported, may think of the engine
driving his car as "a mystical beast under the hood". The Italian
master Piero Taruffi, no less sensitive, knows twice the ecstasy
though he thinks of a car's adhesion to a wet two-lane road at 165 miles
an hour as a matter best expressed in algebraic formulae. Clerfayt,
driving,
sees himself "a volcano whose cone funneled down to hell";
the Briton Stirling Moss, one of the greatest <virtuosi> of all
time, believes that ultra-fast road-circuit driving is an art form related
to ballet. Errors in technical terminology suggest that
the over-all translation from the German may not convey quite everything
Mr& Remarque hoped to tell us. However, my principal
objection in this sort of novel is to the hackneyed treatment of race-drivers,
pilots, submariners, atomic researchers, and all the machine-masters
of our age as brooding mystics or hysterical fatalists.

{THE WEST} is leaderless, according to this book. In

contrast,
the East is ably led by such stalwart heroes as Khrushchev, Tito,
and Mao. Against this invincible determination to communize the
whole world stands a group of nations unable to agree on fundamentals
and each refusing to make any sacrifice of sovereignty for the common
good of all. It is Field Marshal Montgomery's belief that
in most Western countries about 60 per cent of the people do not really
care about democracy or Christianity; about 30 per cent call themselves
Christians in order to keep up appearances and be considered
respectable, and only the last 10 per cent are genuine Christians and
believers in democracy. But these Western countries do care
about themselves. Each feels intensely national. If, say, the Russians
intended to stop Tom Jones' going to the pub, then Tom Jones
would fight the Commies. But he would fight for his own liberty rather
than for any abstract principle connected with it- such as "cause".
For all practical purposes, the West stands disunited, undedicated,
and unprepared for the tasks of world leadership. With
this barrage, Montgomery of Alamein launches his attack upon the
blunderings of the West. Never given to mincing words, he places heavy
blame upon the faulty, uncourageous leadership of Britain and particularly
America. At war's end leadership in Western Europe passed
from Britain because the Labour Government devoted its attention
to the creation of a welfare state. With Britain looking inward, overseas
problems were neglected and the baton was passed on to the United
States. Montgomery believes that she started well. "America
gave generously in economic aid and military equipment to friend
and foe alike". She pushed wartorn and poverty-stricken nations into
prosperity, but she failed to lead them into unity and world peace.
America has divided more than she has united the West. The reasons
are that America generally believes that she can buy anything with
dollars, and that she compulsively strives to be liked. However, she
really does not know how to match the quantity of dollars given away by
a quality of leadership that is basically needed. But the greater
reason for fumbling, stumbling American leadership is due to the
shock her pride suffered when the Japanese attacked at Pearl Harbor.
"They are determined", Montgomery writes, "not to be surprised
again, and now insist on a state of readiness for war which is not
only unnecessary, but also creates nervousness **h among other nations
in the Western Alliance- not to mention such great suspicions among
the nations of the Eastern bloc that any progress towards peaceful
coexistence or disarmament is not possible". The net result
is that under American leadership the general world situation has
become bad. To "Monty", the American people, who in two previous
world wars were very reluctant to join the fight, "now look like the
nation most likely to lead us all into a third World War". ##
{AS}
faulty as has been our leadership clearly the United States
must be relied upon to lead. The path to leadership is made clear.
Montgomery calls for a leader who will first put the West's own
house in order. Such a man must be able and willing to give clear and
sensible advice to the whole group, a person in whom all the member nations
will have absolute confidence. This leader must be a man who lives
above illusions that heretofore have shaped the foreign policy of
the United States, namely that Russia will agree to a reunited Germany,
that the East German government does not exist, that events in
Japan in June 1960 were Communist-inspired, that the true government
of China is in Formosa, that Mao was the evil influence behind
Khrushchev at the Summit Conference in Paris in May 1960, and that
either China or Russia wants or expects war. Such a leader
must strengthen ~NATO politically, and establish that true unity
about which it has always talked. After drastically overhauling ~NATO,
Western leadership should turn to reducing the suspicions that
tear apart the East and West. Major to this effort is to get all
world powers to withdraw to their own territories, say by 1970. "The
West should make the central proposal; but the East would have
to show sincerity in carrying it out". "But where is the
leader who will handle all these things for us"? Montgomery knew
all the national leaders up to the time of Kennedy. The man whom he
would select as our leader for this great task is de Gaulle. He alone
has the wisdom, the conviction, the tenacity, and the courage to reach
a decision. But de Gaulle is buried in the cause of restoring France's
lost soul. Whoever rises to the occasion walks a treacherous
path to leadership. The leader Montgomery envisages will need
to discipline himself, lead a carefully regulated and orderly life,
allow time for quiet thought and reflection, adapt decisions and plans
to changing situations, be ruthless, particularly with inefficiency,
and be honest and morally proper. All in all, Montgomery calls for a
leader who will anticipate and dominate the events that surround him.
##

{IN LOOKING} as far back as Moses, thence to Cromwell,

Napoleon, Lincoln, Churchill, and Nehru, Montgomery attempts
to trace the stirrings and qualities of great men. He believes that
greatness is a marriage between the man and the times as was aptly represented
by Churchill, who would very possibly have gone down in history
as a political failure if it had not been for Hitler's war.

However, Montgomery makes little contribution to leadership theory

and practice. Most of what is said about his great men of history
has already been said, and what has not is largely irrelevant to the contemporary
scene. Like Eisenhower, he holds the militarist's suspicion
of politicians. However, at the same time Montgomery selects as
his hero de Gaulle, who is a militarist dominated by political ambitions.
"Monty" shows a remarkable capacity for the direct statement
and an equally remarkable incapacity for giving adequate support.
For the most part, his writing rambles and jogs, preventing easy access
by the reader to his true thoughts. Nevertheless, Montgomery
has stated courageously and wisely the crisis of the Western world.
It suffers from a lack of unity of purpose and respect for heroic leadership.
And it remains to be seen if the new frontier now taking form
can produce the leadership and wisdom necessary to understand the
current shape of events.

{IT IS} no common thing for a listener (critical or otherwise)

to hear a singer "live" for the first time only after he
has died. But then, Mario Lanza was no common singer, and his whole
career, public and non-public, was studded with the kind of unconventional
happenings that terminate with the appearance of his first "recital"
only when he has ceased to be a living voice. It is a kind
of justice, too, that it should originate in London's Royal Albert
Hall, where, traditionally, the loudest, if not the greatest, performers
have entertained the thousands it will accommodate (~RCA Victor
~LM 2454, $4.98). To be sure, Lanza made numerous concert
tours, here and abroad, but these did not take him to New York
where the carping critic might lurk.

The reading public, the theatergoing public, the skindiving

public, the
horse-playing public- all these and others fill substantial roles
in U&S& life, but none is so varied, vast and vigilant as the eating
public. The Department of Agriculture averaged out U&S&
food consumption last year at 1,488 lbs& per person, which, allowing
for the 17 million Americans that John Kennedy said go to bed hungry
every night, means that certain gluttons on the upper end must somehow
down 8 lbs& or more a day. That mother hen of the weight-height
tables, the Metropolitan Life Insurance Co&, clucks that 48 million
Americans are overweight. Through previous centuries, eating
changed by nearly imperceptible degrees, and mostly toward just
getting enough. Now big forces buffet food. For the first time in history,
the U&S& has produced a society in which less than one-tenth
of the people turn out so much food that the Government's most
embarrassing problem is how to dispose inconspicuously of 100 million
tons of surplus farm produce. In this same society, the plain citizen
can with an average of only one-fifth his income buy more calories than
he can consume. Refrigeration, automated processing and packaging
conspire to defy season and banish spoilage. And in the wake of the new
affluence and the new techniques of processing comes a new American
interest in how what people eat affects their health. To eat is human,
the nation is learning to think, to survive divine.

#FADS, FACTS
**H#

Not all the concern for health is well directed. From the fusty
panaceas of spinach, eggs and prunes, the U&S& has progressed
to curds, concentrates and capsules. Each year, reports the American
Medical Association, ten million Americans spend $900 million on
vitamins, tonics and other food supplements. At juice bars in Los
Angeles' 35 "health" stores, a new sensation is a pink, high-protein
cocktail, concocted of dried eggs, powdered milk and cherry-flavored
No-Cal, which sells for 59@ per 8-oz& glass. Grocery stores
sell dozens of foods that boast of having almost no food value at all.

But a big part of the public wants to know facts about diet
and health, and a big group of U&S& scientists wants to supply
them. The man most firmly at grips with the problem is the University
of Minnesota's Physiologist Ancel Keys, 57, inventor of the wartime
~K (for Keys) ration and author of last year's bestselling
<Eat Well and Stay Well>. From his birch-paneled office in the
Laboratory of Physiological Hygiene, under the university's football
stadium in Minneapolis ("We get a rumble on every touchdown"),
blocky, grey-haired Dr& Keys directs an ambitious, $200,000-a-year
experiment on diet, which spans three continents and seven nations
and is still growing. Pursuing it, he has logged 500,000 miles, suffered
indescribable digestive indignities, and meticulously collected
physiological data on the health and eating habits of 10,000 individuals,
from Bantu tribesmen to Italian <contadini>. He has measured
the skinfolds (the fleshy areas under the shoulder blades) of Neapolitan
firemen, studied the metabolism of Finnish woodcutters, analyzed
the "mealie-meal" eaten by Capetown coloreds, and experimented
on Minneapolis businessmen. #**H AND FATS.#

Keys's findings,
though far from complete, are likely to smash many an eating cliche.
Vitamins, eggs and milk begin to look like foods to hold down on (though
mothers' milk is still the ticket). Readings of the number of milligrams
of cholesterol in the blood, which seem to have value in predicting
heart attacks, are becoming as routine as the electrocardiogram,
which can show that the heart has suffered a symptomatic attack. Already
many an American knows his count, and rejoices or worries depending
on whether it is nearer 180 (safe) or 250 (dangerous). Out
of cholesterol come Keys's main messages so far: @ Americans
eat too much. The typical U&S& daily menu, says Dr&
Keys, contains 3,000 calories, should contain 2,300. And extra weight
increases the risk of cancer, diabetes, artery disease and heart attack.

@ Americans eat too much fat. With meat, milk, butter

and ice cream, the calorie-heavy U&S& diet is 40% fat, and most
of that is saturated fat- the insidious kind, says Dr& Keys,
that increases blood cholesterol, damages arteries, and leads to coronary
disease.

#OBESITY: A MALNUTRITION.#

Throughout much of the

world, food is still so scarce that half of the earth's population
has trouble getting the 1,600 calories a day necessary to sustain life.
The deficiency diseases- scurvy, tropical sprue, pellagra- run
rampant. In West Africa, for example, where meat is a luxury and babies
must be weaned early to make room at the breast for later arrivals,
a childhood menace is <kwashiorkor,> or "red Johnny", a growth-stunting
protein deficiency (signs: reddish hair, bloated belly)
that kills more than half its victims, leaves the rest prey for parasites
and lingering tropical disease. In the well-fed U&S&,
deficiency diseases have virtually vanished in the past 20 years. Today,
as Harrison's <Principles of Internal Medicine,> a standard
internist's text, puts it, "The most common form of malnutrition
is caloric excess or obesity". Puritan New England regarded
obesity as a flagrant symbol of intemperance, and thus a sin. Says
Keys: "Maybe if the idea got around again that obesity is immoral,
the fat man would start to think". Morals aside, the fat man
has plenty to worry about- over and above the fact that no one any
longer loves him. The simple mechanical strain of overweight, says New
York's Dr& Norman Jolliffe, can overburden and damage the
heart "for much the same reason that a Chevrolet engine in a Cadillac
body would wear out sooner than if it were in a body for which it
was built". The fat man has trouble buying life insurance or has to
pay higher premiums. He has- for unclear reasons- a 25% higher
death rate from cancer. He is particularly vulnerable to diabetes. He
may find even moderate physical exertion uncomfortable, because excess
body fat hampers his breathing and restricts his muscular movement.

Physiologically, people overeat because what Dr& Jolliffe

calls the "appestat" is set too high. The appestat, which adjusts
the appetite to keep weight constant, is located, says Jolliffe,
in the hypothalamus- near the body's temperature, sleep and water-balance
controls. Physical exercise raises the appestat. So does cold
weather. In moderate doses, alcohol narcotizes the appestat and enhances
appetite (the original reason for the cocktail); but because liquor
has a high caloric value- 100 calories per oz&- the heavy
drinker is seldom hungry. In rare cases, diseases such as encephalitis
or a pituitary tumor may damage the appestat permanently, destroying
nearly all sense of satiety.

#FOOD FOR FRUSTRATION.#

Far more frequently,

overeating
is the result of a psychological compulsion. It
may be fostered by frustration, depression, insecurity- or, in children,
simply by the desire to stop an anxious mother's nagging. Some
families place undue emphasis on food: conversations center on it,
and rich delicacies are offered as rewards, withheld as punishment. The
result says Jolliffe: "The child gains the feeling that food
is the purpose of life". Food may act as a sedative, giving temporary
emotional solace, just as, for some people, alcohol does. Reports
Dr& Keys: "A fairly common experience for us is the wife who
finds her husband staying out more and more. He may be interested in
another woman, or just like being with the boys. So she fishes around
in the cupboard and hauls out a chocolate cake. It's a matter of
boredom, and the subconscious feeling that she is entitled to something,
because she's being deprived of something else". For the
army of compulsive eaters- from the nibblers and the gobblers to
the downright gluttons- reducing is a war with the will that is rarely
won. Physiologist Keys flatly dismisses such appetite depressants
as the amphetamines
(Benzedrine, Dexedrine) as dangerous "crutches
for a weak will". Keys has no such objections to Metrecal,
Quaker Oats's Quota and other 900-calorie milk formulas that are
currently winning favor from dieters. "Metrecal is a pretty complete
food", he says. "It contains large amounts of protein, vitamins
and minerals. In the quantity of 900 calories a day, anyone will lose
weight on it- 20, 30 or 40 lbs&". But Keys worries that the
Metrecal drinker will never make either the psychological or physiological
adjustment to the idea of eating smaller portions of food.

#THAT
REMARKABLE CHOLESTEROL.#

Despite his personal distaste for obesity

("disgusting"), Dr& Keys has only an incidental interest
in how much Americans eat. What concerns him much more is the relationship
of diet to the nation's No& 1 killer: coronary artery disease,
which accounts for more than half of all heart fatalities and kills
500,000 Americans a year- twice the toll from all varieties of
cancer, five times the deaths from automobile accidents. Cholesterol,
the cornerstone of Dr& Keys's theory, is a mysterious
yellowish,
waxy substance, chemically a crystalline alcohol. Scientists
assume that cholesterol (from the Greek <chole,> meaning bile, and
<sterios,> meaning solid) is somehow necessary for the formation of
brain cells, since it accounts for about 2% of the brain's total
solid weight. They know it is the chief ingredient in gallstones. They
suspect it plays a role in the production of adrenal hormones, and
they believe it is essential to the transport of fats throughout the
circulatory system. But they cannot fully explain the process of its
manufacture by the human liver. Although the fatty protein molecules,
carried in the blood and partly composed of cholesterol, are water soluble,
cholesterol itself is insoluble, and cannot be destroyed by the
body. "A remarkable substance", says Dr& Keys, "quite apart
from its tendency to be deposited in the walls of arteries".

When thus deposited, Keys says that cholesterol is mainly responsible

for the arterial blockages that culminate in heart attacks. Explains
Keys: As the fatty protein molecules travel in the bloodstream,
they are deposited in the intima, or inner wall of a coronary artery.
The proteins and fats are burned off, and the cholesterol is left
behind. As cholesterol piles up, it narrows, irritates and damages the
artery, encouraging formation of calcium deposits and slowing circulation.
Eventually, says Keys, one of two things happens. A clot forms
at the site, seals off the flow of blood to the heart and provokes
a heart attack. Or (more commonly, thinks Keys) the deposits themselves
get so big that they choke off the artery's flow to the point that
an infarct occurs: the heart muscle is suffocated, cells supplied
by the artery die, and the heart is permanently, perhaps fatally injured.

#FATS + CORONARIES.#

Ordinarily, the human liver synthesizes

only enough cholesterol to satisfy the body's needs- for transportation
of fats and for production of bile. Even eggs and other cholesterol-rich
foods, eaten in normal amounts, says Dr& Keys, do not materially
affect the amount of cholesterol in the blood. But fatty foods
do. During World War /2,, doctors in The Netherlands
and Scandinavia noted a curious fact: despite the stresses of Nazi
occupation, the death rate from coronary artery disease was slowly dropping.
Not until long after the war- 1950, in fact- did they get
a hint of the reason. That year, Sweden's Haqvin Malmros showed
that the sinking death rate neatly coincided with increasingly severe
restrictions on fatty foods. That same year the University of California's
Dr& Laurance Kinsell, timing oxidation rates of blood
fats, stumbled onto the discovery that many vegetable fats cause blood
cholesterol levels to drop radically, while animal fats cause them to
rise. Here Keys and others, such as Dr& A& E& Ahrens of
the Rockefeller Institute, took over to demonstrate the chemical difference
between vegetable and animal fats- and even between different
varieties of each. All natural food fats fall into one of three
categories- saturated, mono-unsaturated and poly-unsaturated.
The
degree of saturation depends on the number of hydrogen atoms on the
fat molecule. Saturated fats can accommodate no more hydrogens. Mono-unsaturated
fats have room for two more hydrogens on each molecule,
and the poly-unsaturated fat molecule has room for at least four hydrogens.

The three fats have similar caloric values (about 265 calories
per oz&), but each exerts a radically different influence on
blood cholesterol.
As a result, although we still make use of this distinction, there is
much confusion as to the meaning of the basic terms employed. Just what
is meant by "spirit" and by "matter"? The terms are generally
taken for granted as though they referred to direct and axiomatic
elements in the common experience of all. Yet in the contemporary
context this is precisely what one must not do. For in the modern world
neither "spirit" nor "matter" refer to any generally agreed-upon
elements of experience. We are in a transitional stage in which
many of the connotations of former usage have had to be revised or rejected.
When the words are used, we are never sure which of the traditional
meanings the user may have in mind, or to what extent his revisions
and rejections of former understandings correspond to ours.

One of the most widespread features of contemporary thought is the

almost universal disbelief in the reality of spirit. Just a few centuries
ago the world of spirits was as populous and real as the world of
material entities. Not only in popular thought but in that of the highly
educated as well was this true. Demons, fairies, angels, and a host
of other spiritual beings were as much a part of the experiential
world of western man as were rocks and trees and stars. In such a world
the words "matter" and "spirit" both referred to directly
known realities in the common experience of all. In it important elements
of Christianity and of the Biblical view of reality in general,
which now cause us much difficulty, could be responded to quite naturally
and spontaneously. The progress of science over these last
few centuries and the gradual replacement of Biblical by scientific
categories of reality have to a large extent emptied the spirit world
of the entities which previously populated it. In carrying out this
program science has undoubtedly performed a very considerable service
for which it can claim due credit. The objectification of the world
of spirit in popular superstition had certainly gone far beyond what the
experience of spirit could justify or support. Science is fully competent
to deal with any element of experience which arises from an object
in space and time. When, therefore, it turned its attention to the
concrete entities with which popular imagination had peopled the world
of spirit, these entities soon lost whatever status they had enjoyed
as actual elements of external reality. In doing so science has unquestionably
cleared up widespread misconceptions, removed extraneous
and illusory sources of fear, and dispelled many undesirable popular
superstitions. There have been, indeed, many important and valuable gains
from the development of our present scientific view of the world
for which we may be rightly grateful. All this has not, however,
been an unmixed blessing. The scientific debunking of the spirit world
has been in a way too successful and too thorough. The house has
been swept so clean that contemporary man has been left with no means,
or at best with wholly inadequate means, for dealing with his experience
of spirit. Although the particular form of conceptualization which
popular imagination had made in response to the experience of spirit
was undoubtedly defective, the raw experience itself which led to such
excesses remains with us as vividly as ever. We simply find ourselves
in the position of having no means for inquiring into the structure
and meaning of this range of our experience. There is no framework
or structure of thought with respect to which we can organize it and
no part
of reality, as we know and apprehend it, with respect to which we
can refer this experience. Science has simply left us helpless and powerless
in this important sector of our lives. The situation in
which we find ourselves is brought out with dramatic force in Arthur
Miller's play <The Crucible,> which deals with the Salem witch
trials. As the play opens the audience is introduced to the community
of Salem in Puritan America at the end of the eighteenth century.
Aside from a quaint concern with witches and devils which provides
the immediate problem in the opening scene, it is a quite normal community.
The conversation of the characters creates an atmosphere suggesting
the usual mixture of pleasures, foibles, irritations, and concerns
which would characterize the common life of a normal village in any
age. There is no occasion to feel uneasy or disturbed about these people.
Instead, the audience can sit back at ease and, from the perspective
of an enlightened time which no longer believes in such things,
enjoy the dead seriousness with which the characters in the play take
the witches and devils which are under discussion. A teenage girl, Abigail
Williams, is being sharply questioned by her minister uncle,
the Reverend Samuel Parris, about a wild night affair in the woods
in which she and some other girls had seemed to have had contact with
these evil beings. For all involved in this discussion the devil is
a real entity who can really be confronted in the woods on a dark night,
the demon world is populated with real creatures, and witches actually
can be seen flying through the air. As the play unfolds, however,
the audience is subtly brought into the grip of an awful evil
which grows with ominously gathering power and soon engulfs the community.
Everyone in Salem, saint and sinner alike, is swept up by it.
It is like a mysterious epidemic which, starting first with Abigail
and Parris, spreads inexorably with a dreadfully growing virulence through
the whole town until all have been infected by it. It grows terribly
and unavoidably in power and leaves in its wake a trail of misery,
moral disintegration, and destruction. The audience leaves the play
under a spell, It is the kind of spell which the exposure to spirit
in its living active manifestation always evokes. If one asks
about this play, what it is that comes upon this community and works
within it with such terrible power, there is no better answer to give
than "spirit". This is not to attempt to say what spirit is, but
only to employ a commonly used word to designate or simply identify a
common experience. In the end the good man, John Proctor, expresses
what the audience has already come to feel when he says, "A fire,
a fire is burning! I hear the boot of Lucifer, I see his filthy
face"! The tragic irony of the play is that the very belief in and
concern with a devil who could be met in the woods and combatted with
formulae set out in books was the very thing that prevented them from
detecting the real devil when he came among them. We marvel at their
blindness for not seeing this. Yet are not we of the mid-twentieth
century, who rightly do not believe there is any such "thing" as the
devil, just as bad off as they- only in a different way? In our
disbelief we think that we can no longer even use the word and so are
unable to even name the elemental power which is so vividly real in
this play. We are left helpless to cope with it because we do not dare
speak of it as anything real for fear that to do so would imply a commitment
to that which has already been discredited and proved false.

Even Mr& Miller himself seems uncertain on this score. In

a long commentary which he has inserted in the published text of the
first act of the play, he says at one point: "However, that experience
never raised a doubt in his mind as to the reality of the underworld
or the existence of Lucifer's many-faced lieutenants. And his
belief is not to his discredit. Better minds than Hale's were-
and still are- convinced that there is a society of spirits beyond
our ken". (page 33) On the other hand, a little later on he says:
"Since 1692 a great but superficial change has wiped out God's
beard and the Devil's horns, but the world is still gripped between
two diametrically opposed absolutes. The concept of unity, in which
positive and negative are attributes of the same force, in which good
and evil are relative, ever-changing, and always joined to the same phenomenon-
such a concept is still reserved to the physical sciences
and to the few who have grasped the history of ideas **h. When we see
the steady and methodical inculcation into humanity of the idea of man's
worthlessness- until redeemed- the necessity of the Devil may
become evident as a weapon, a weapon designed and used time and time
again in every age to whip men into a surrender to a particular church
or church-state". (page 34) Apparently he does not intend
that those who read or view this play should think of the devil as being
actually real. Yet such is the dramatic power of his writing that
the audience is nevertheless left in the grip of the terrible power and
potency of that which came over Salem. It casts a spell upon them
so that they leave with a feeling of having been in the mysterious presence
of an evil power. It is not enough in accounting for this feeling
to analyze it into the wickedness of individual people added together
to produce a cumulative effect. For this does not account for the
integral, elemental power of that which grows with abounding vigor as
the play unfolds, nor does it explain the strange numinous sense of presentness
which comes over those who watch the play like a spell. The
reality of spirit emerges in this play in spite of the author's convictions
to the contrary.

#SPIRIT AND COMMUNITY#

There is
nothing in the whole range of human experience more widely known and
universally felt than spirit. Apart from spirit there could be no community,
for it is spirit which draws men into community and gives to any
community its unity, cohesiveness, and permanence. Think, for example,
of the spirit of the Marine Corps. Surely this is a reality we
all acknowledge. We cannot, of course, assign it any substance. It
is not material and is not a "thing" occupying space and time. Yet
it exists and has an objective reality which can be experienced and
known. So it is too with many other spirits which we all know: the
spirit of Nazism or Communism, school spirit, the spirit of a street
corner gang or a football team, the spirit of Rotary or the Ku Klux
Klan. Every community, if it is alive has a spirit, and that spirit
is the center of its unity and identity. In searching for clues
which might lead us to a fresh apprehension of the reality of spirit,
the close connection between spirit and community is likely to prove
the most fruitful. For it is primarily in community that we know and
experience spirit. It is spirit which gives life to a community and
causes it to cohere. It is the spirit which is the source of a community's
drawing power by means of which others are drawn into it from
the world outside so that the community grows and prospers. Yet the
spirit which lives in community is not identical with the community.
The idea of community and the idea of spirit are two distinct and separable
ideas. One characteristic of the spirit in community is
its givenness. The members of the community do not create the spirit
but rather find it present and waiting for them. It is for them a given
which they and they alone possess. The spirit of the Marine Corps
was present and operative before any of the present members of it came
into it. It is they, of course, who keep it alive and preserve it
so the same spirit will continue to be present in the Corps for future
recruits to find as they come into it.
If the content of faith is to be presented today in a form that can be
"understanded of the people"- and this, it must not be forgotten,
is one of the goals of the perennial theological task- there is
no other choice but to abandon completely a mythological manner of
representation.

This does not mean that mythological language as

such can no longer be used in theology and preaching. The absurd notion
that demythologization entails the expurgation of all mythological
concepts completely misrepresents Bultmann's intention. His point
is not that mythology may not be used, but that it may no longer be regarded
as the only or even the most appropriate conceptuality for expressing
the Christian kerygma. When we say that a mythological mode
of thought must be completely abandoned, we mean it must be abandoned
as the sole or proper means for presenting the Christian understanding
of existence. Mythological concepts may by all means still be used,
but they can be used responsibly only as "symbols" or "ciphers",
that is, only if they are also constantly <interpreted> in nonmythological
(or existential) terms. The statement is often made
that when Bultmann argues in this way, he "overestimates the intellectual
stumbling-block which myth is supposed to put in the way of accepting
the Christian faith". But this statement is completely unconvincing.
If Bultmann's own definition of myth is strictly adhered
to (and it is interesting that this is almost never done by those who
make such pronouncements), the evidence is overwhelming that he does
not at all exaggerate the extent to which the mythological concepts of
traditional theology have become incredible and irrelevant. Nor is
it necessary to look for such evidence in the great urban centers of our
culture that are admittedly almost entirely secularized and so profoundly
estranged from the conventional forms in which the gospel has been
communicated. On the contrary, even in the heart of "the Bible
belt" itself, as can be attested by any one who is called to work there,
the industrial and technological revolutions have long been under
way, together with the corresponding changes in man's picture of himself
and his world. In fact, it is in just such a situation
that the profundity of Bultmann's argument is disclosed. Although
the theological forms of the past continue to exist in a way they do
not in a more secularized situation, the striking thing is the rapidity
with which they are being reduced to a marginal existence. This is
especially in evidence among the present generation of the suburban middle
class. Time and again in counseling and teaching, one encounters
members of this group whose attempts to bring into some kind of unity
the insubstantial mythologies of their "fundamentalist" heritage
and the stubborn reality of the modern world are only too painfully obvious.

The same thing is also evidenced by the extreme "culture-Protestantism"

so often observed to characterize the preaching
and teaching of the American churches. In the absence of a truly adequate
conceptuality in which the gospel can be expressed, the unavoidable
need to demythologize it makes use of whatever resources are at
hand- and this usually means one or another of the various forms of
"folk religion" current in the situation. This is not to say that
the <only> explanation of the present infatuation with Norman Vincent
Peale's "cult of reassurance" or the other types of a purely
cultural Christianity is the ever-present need for a demythologized
gospel. But it is to say that this need is far more important for such
infatuation than most of the pundits seem to have suspected.

However, even if the latent demand for demythologization is not nearly

as widespread as we are claiming, at least among the cultured elements
of the population there tends to be an almost complete indifference
to the church and its traditional message of sin and grace. To be
sure, when this is pointed out, a common response among certain churchmen
is to fulminate about "the little flock" and "the great crowd"
and to take solace from Paul's castigation of the "wisdom of
the wise" in the opening chapter of First Corinthians. But can
we any longer afford the luxury of such smug indigation? Can the church
risk assuming that the "folly" of men is as dear to God as their
"wisdom", or, as is also commonly implied, that "the foolishness
of God" and "the foolishness of men" are simply two ways
of talking about the same thing? Can we continue to alienate precisely
those whose gifts we so desperately need and apart from whose co-operation
our mission in the world must become increasingly precarious?

There is an ancient and venerable tradition in the church (which

derives, however, from the heritage of the Greeks rather than from
the Bible) that God is completely independent of his creation and
so has no need of men for accomplishing his work in the world. by analogy,
the church also has been regarded as entirely independent of the
"world" in the sense of requiring nothing from it in order to be
the church. But, as Scripture everywhere reminds us, God <does>
have need of his creatures, and the church, <a fortiori>, can ill afford
to do without the talents with which the world, by God's providence,
presents it. And yet this is exactly the risk we run when
we assume, as we too often do, that we can continue to preach the gospel
in a form that makes it seem incredible and irrelevant to cultured
men. Until we translate this gospel into a language that enlightened
men today can understand, we are depriving ourselves of the very resources
on which the continued success of our witness most certainly depends.

In arguing in this way, we are obviously taking for granted

that a demythologized restatement of the kerygma can be achieved;
and that we firmly believe this will presently become evident when
we set forth reasons to justify such a conviction. But the main point
here is that even if such a restatement were <not> possible, the
demand to demythologize the kerygma would still be unavoidable.
This is what we mean when we say this demand must be accepted without
condition. If to be a Christian means to say yes where I otherwise
say no, or where I do not have the right to say anything at all, then
my only choice is to refuse to be a Christian. Expressed differently:
if the price for becoming a faithful follower of Jesus Christ
is some form of self-destruction, whether of the body or of the mind-
<sacrificium corporis, sacrificium intellectus>- then there is
no alternative but that the price remain unpaid. This must be
stressed because it is absolutely essential to the argument of this concluding
chapter. Modern man, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer has told us, has
"come of age"; and though this process by no means represents
an unambiguous gain and is, in fact, marked by the estrangement from
the depths that seems to be the cost of human maturation, it is still
a positive step forward; and those of us who so richly benefit from
it should be the last to despise it. In any event, it is an irreversible
step, and if we are at all honest with ourselves, we will know we
have no other alternative than to live in the world in which God has
seen fit to place us. To say this, of course, is to take up a
position on one side of a controversy going on now for some two hundred
years, or, at any rate, since the beginning of the distinctively modern
period in theological thought. We have aligned ourselves with that
"liberal" tradition in Protestant Christianity that counts among
the great names in its history those of Schleiermacher, Ritschl,
Herrmann, Harnack, and Troeltsch, and more recently, Schweitzer and
the early Barth and, in part at least, Bultmann. It is to this same
tradition that most of the creative figures in the last century and
a half of American theology also belong. For we must number here not
only the names of Bushnell, Clarke, and Rauschenbusch, not to mention
those of "the Chicago School" and Macintosh, but those of
the brothers Niebuhr and (if America may claim him!) Tillich as
well. Finally, we may also mention the several members of the self-consciously
"neoliberal" movement that developed at the University
of Chicago and is heavily indebted philosophically to the creative work
of Alfred North Whitehead. What makes this long and diverse
tradition essentially <one> is that those who have belonged to it
have been profoundly in earnest about being modern men in a distinctively
modern world. Although they have also been concerned to stand squarely
within the tradition of the apostolic church, they have exhibited
no willingness whatever to sacrifice their modernity to their Christianity.
They have insisted, rather, on living fully and completely
within modern culture and, so far from considering this treason to God,
have looked upon it as the only way they could be faithful to him.

When we say, then, that today, in our situation, the demand for
demythologization must be accepted without condition, we are simply
saying that at least this much of the liberal tradition is an enduring
achievement. However much we may have to criticize liberal theology's
constructive formulations, the theology we ourselves must strive
to formulate can only go <beyond> liberalism, not <behind> it.

In affirming this we have already taken the decisive step in breaking

the deadlock into which Bultmann's attempt to formulate such a
theology has led. For we have said, in effect, that of the two alternatives
to his position variously represented by the other participants
in the demythologizing discussion, only one is really an alternative.
If the demand for demythologization is unavoidable and so must be
accepted
by theology unconditionally, the position of the "right" is
clearly untenable. Whereas Bultmann's "center" position is structurally
inconsistent and is therefore indefensible on formal grounds
alone, the general position of the "right", as represented, say,
by Karl Barth, involves the rejection or at least qualification of
the demand for demythologization and so is invalidated on the material
grounds we have just considered. It follows, then, provided
the possibilities have been exhausted, that the only <real> alternative
is the general viewpoint of the "left", which has been represented
on the Continent by Fritz Buri and, to some extent at least,
is found in much that is significant in American and English theology.

In order to make the implications of our position as clear

as possible, we may develop this argument at greater length. We
may show, first, that there cannot possibly be an alternative other
than the three typically represented by Bultmann, Barth, and Buri.
To do this, it is sufficient to point out that if the principle in terms
of which alternatives are to be conceived is such as to exclude more
than two, then the question of a "third" possibility is a meaningless
question. Thus, if what is at issue is whether "All ~S
is ~P", it is indifferent whether "Some ~S is not ~P"
or "No ~S is ~P", since in either case the judgment in question
is false. Hence, if what is in question is whether in a given theology
myth is or is not completely rejected, it is unimportant whether
only a little bit of myth or a considerable quantity is accepted;
for, in either event, the first possibility is excluded. Therefore,
the only conceivable alternatives are those represented, on the one hand,
by the two at least apparently self-consistent but mutually exclusive
positions of Buri and Barth and, on the other hand, by the third
but really pseudo position (analogous to a round square) of Bultmann.

A second point requires more extended comment. It will be recalled

from the discussion in Section 7 that the position of the "right",
as represented by Barth, rests on the following thesis: The
only tenable alternative to Bultmann's position is a theology that
(1) rejects or at least qualifies his unconditioned demand for demythologization
and existential interpretation; (2) accepts instead a
special biblical hermeneutics or method of interpretation; and (3)
in so doing, frees itself to give appropriate emphasis to the event Jesus
Christ by means of statements that, from Bultmann's point of
view, are mythological.

ONE HUNDRED years ago there existed in England the Association

for the Promotion of the Unity of Christendom. Representing
as it did the efforts of only unauthorized individuals of the Roman
and Anglican Churches, and urging a communion of prayer unacceptable
to Rome, this association produced little fruit, and, in fact, was
condemned by the Holy Office in 1864. Now again in 1961, in
England, there is perhaps nothing in the religious sphere so popularly
discussed as Christian unity. The Church Unity Octave, January
18-25, was enthusiastically devoted to prayer and discussion by the various
churches. Many people seem hopeful, yet it is difficult to predict
whether or not there will be any more real attainment of Christian
unity in 1961 than there was in 1861. But it must be readily seen
that the religious picture in England has so greatly changed during these
hundred years as to engender hope, at least on the Catholic side.
For the "tide is well on the turn", as the London Catholic weekly
<Universe> has written. I came to England last summer to
do research on the unpublished letters of Cardinal Newman. As an
American Catholic of Irish ancestry, I came with certain preconceptions
and expectations; being intellectually influenced by Newman
and the general 19th-century literature of England, I knew only a
Protestant-dominated
country. Since arriving here, however, I have formed
a far different religious picture of present-day England. In representing
part of this new picture, I will be recounting some of my
own personal experiences, reactions and judgments; but my primary aim
is to transcribe what Englishmen themselves are saying and writing
and implying about the Roman and Anglican Churches and about the
present religious
state of England. Since the Protestant clergy for the
most part wear gray or some variant from the wholly black suit, my Roman
collar and black garb usually identify me in England as a Roman
Catholic cleric. In any case, I have always been treated with the
utmost courtesy by Englishmen, even in Devonshire and Cornwall, where
anti-Catholic feeling has supposedly existed the strongest and longest.

Nowhere have I seen public expression of anti-Catholicism.

On my first Guy Fawkes Day here, I found Catholics as well
as non-Catholics celebrating with the traditional fireworks and bonfires,
and was told that most Englishmen either do not know or are not
concerned with the historical significance of the day. A Birmingham
newspaper printed in a column for children an article entitled "The
True Story of Guy Fawkes", which began: "When you
pile your
"guy" on the bonfire tomorrow night, I wonder how much of the
true story of Guy Fawkes you will remember? In the 355 years since
the first Guy Fawkes Night, much of the story has been forgotten,
so here is a reminder". The article proceeded to give an inaccurate
account of a catholic plot to kill King James /1,. ##

IN
SPITE OF the increase in numbers and prestige brought about by the
conversions of Newman and other Tractarians of the 1840's and 1850's,
the Catholic segment of England one hundred years ago was a very
small one (four per cent, or 800,000) which did not enjoy a gracious
hearing from the general public. The return of the Catholic hierarchy
in 1850 was looked upon with indignant disapprobation and, in fact,
was charged with being a gesture of disloyalty. In 1864 Newman professedly
had to write his <Apologia> with his keenest feelings in
order to be believed and to command a fair hearing from English readers.

Now, in 1961, the Catholic population of England is still

quite small (ten per cent, or 5 million); yet it represents a very
considerable percentage of the churchgoing population. A Protestant
woman marveled to me over the large crowds going in and out of the Birmingham
Oratory (Catholic) Church on Sunday mornings. She found
this a marvel because, as she said, only six per cent of English people
are churchgoers. She may not have been exact on this number, but
others here feel quite certain that the percentage would be less than
ten. From many sides come remarks that Protestant churches are badly
attended and the large medieval cathedrals look all but empty during
services. A Catholic priest recently recounted how in the chapel of
a large city university, following Anglican evensong, at which there
was a congregation of twelve, he celebrated Mass before more than a
hundred. The Protestants themselves are the first to admit the
great falling off in effective membership in their churches. According
to a newspaper report of the 1961 statistics of the Church of England,
the "total of confirmed members is 9,748,000, but only 2,887,671
are registered on the parochial church rolls", and "over 27 million
people in England are baptized into the Church of England, but
roughly only a tenth of them continue". An amazing article in the
<Manchester Guardian> of last November, entitled "Fate of Redundant
Churches", states than an Archbishops' Commission "reported
last month that in the Church of England alone there are 790
churches which are redundant now, or will be in 20 years' time. A further
260 Anglican churches have been demolished since 1948". And
in the last five years, the "Methodist chapel committee has
authorized
the demolition or, more often, the sale of 764 chapels". Most of
these former churches are now used as warehouses, but "neither Anglicans
nor
Nonconformists object to selling churches to Roman Catholics",
and have done so. While it must be said that these same
Protestants have built some new churches during this period, and that
religious population shifts have emptied churches, a principal reason
for this phenomenon of redundancy is that fewer Protestants are
going to church. It should be admitted, too, that there is a good
percentage of lapsed or nonchurchgoing Catholics (one paper writes 50
per cent). Still, it is clear from such reports, and apparently clear
from the remarks of many people, that Protestants are decreasing and
Catholics increasing. An Anglican clergyman in Oxford sadly
but frankly acknowledged to me that this is true. A century ago,
Newman saw that liberalism (what we now might call secularism) would
gradually but definitely make its mark on English Protestantism, and
that even high Anglicanism would someday no longer be a "serviceable
breakwater against doctrinal errors more fundamental than its own".
That day is perhaps today, 1961, and it seems no longer very meaningful
to call England a "Protestant country". One of the ironies
of the present crusade for Christian unity is that there are not, relatively
speaking, many real Christians to unite. Many English
Catholics are proud of their Catholicism and know that they are
in a new ascendancy. The London <Universe> devoted its centenary
issue
last December 8 to mapping out various aspects of Catholic progress
during the last one hundred years. With traditional nationalistic spirit,
some Englishmen claim that English Catholicism is Catholicism
at its best. I have found myself saying with other foreigners here
that English Catholics <are> good Catholics. It has been my experience
to find as many men as women in church, and to hear almost everyone
in church congregations reciting the Latin prayers and responses
at Mass. They hope, of course, to reclaim the non-Catholic
population to the Catholic faith, and at every Sunday Benediction
they recite by heart the "Prayer for England": "O Blessed
Virgin Mary, Mother of God and our most gentle queen and mother,
look down in mercy upon England, thy "dowry", and upon us
all who greatly hope and trust in thee **h. Intercede for our separated
brethren, that with us in the one true fold they may be united to the
chief Shepherd, the vicar of thy Son **h". A hymn often to be
heard in Catholic churches is "Faith of our Fathers", which glories
in England's ancient faith that endured persecution, and which
proclaims: "Faith of our Fathers: Mary's prayers/Shall win
our country back to thee". The English saints are widely venerated,
quite naturally, and now there is great hope that the Forty Martyrs
and Cardinal Newman will soon be canonized. Because they
have kept the faith of their medieval fathers, English Catholics have
always strongly resented the charge of being "un-English". I
have not seen this charge made during my stay here, but apparently it
is still in the air. For example, a writer in a recent number of <The
Queen> hyperbolically states that "of the myriad imprecations the
only one which the English Catholics really resent is the suggestion
that they are 'un-English'". In this connection, it has been
observed that the increasing number of Irish Catholics, priests and
laity, in England, while certainly seen as good for Catholicism,
is nevertheless a source of embarrassment for some of the more nationalistic
English Catholics, especially when these Irishmen offer to remind
their Christian brethren of this good. ##

ONE OF THE
more noteworthy changes that have taken place since the mid-19th century
is the situation of Catholics at Oxford and Cambridge Universities.
At Oxford one hundred years ago there were very few Catholics,
partly because religious tests were removed only in 1854. Moreover,
for those few there was almost no ecclesiastical representation in the
city to care for their religious needs. Now, not only are there considerably
more laity as students and professors at Oxford, but there
are also numerous houses of religious orders existing in respectable
and friendly relations with the non-Catholic members of the University.
Some Catholic priests lecture there; Catholic seminarians attend
tutorials and row on the Cherwell with non-Catholic students.

Further evidence that Roman Catholicism enjoys a more favorable

position today than in 1861 is the respectful attention given to it
in the mass media of England. The general tone of articles appearing
in such important newspapers as the Manchester <Guardian> and the
Sunday <Observer> implies a kindly recognition that the Catholic
Church is now at least of equal stature in England with the Protestant
churches. On successive Sundays during October, 1960, Paul Ferris
(a non-Catholic) wrote articles in the <Observer> depicting
clergymen of the Church of England, the Church of Rome and the Nonconformist
Church. The Catholic priest, though somewhat superficially
drawn, easily came out the best. There were many letters of strong
protest against the portrait of the Anglican clergyman, who was indeed
portrayed as a man not particularly concerned with religious matters
and without really very much to do as clergyman. Such a series of
articles was certainly never printed in the public press of mid-Victorian
England. There was so much interest shown in this present-day
venture that it was continued on B&B&C&, where comments were
equally made by an Anglican parson, a Free Church minister and a Catholic
priest. Catholic priests have frequently appeared on
television programs, sometimes discussing the Christian faith on an equal
footing with Protestant clergymen. A notable example of this was
the discussion of Christian unity by the Catholic Archbishop of Liverpool,
Dr& Heenan, and the Anglican Archbishop of York, Dr&
Ramsey, recently appointed Archbishop of Canterbury. The good
feeling which exists between these two important church figures is now
well known in England. The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass with commentary
has been televised several times in recent months. And it was
interesting to observe that B&B&C&'s television film on Christmas
Eve was <The Bells of St& Mary's>. Of course,
the crowning event that has dramatically upset the traditional pattern
of English religious history was the friendly visit paid by Dr&
Fisher, then Anglican Archbishop of Canterbury, to the Vatican
last December. It was the first time an English Primate has done
this since the 14th century. English Catholics reacted to this event
with moderate but real hope. Almost daily something is reported
which feeds this Catholic hope in England: statistics of the increasing
numbers of converts and Irish Catholic immigrants; news of
a Protestant minister in Leamington who has offered to allow a Catholic
priest to preach from his pulpit; a report that a Catholic nun
had been requested to teach in a non-Catholic secondary school during
the sickness of one of its masters; the startling statement in a
respectable periodical that "Catholics, if the present system is still
in operation, will constitute almost one-third of the House of Lords
in the next generation"; a report that 200 Protestant clergymen
and laity attended a votive Mass offered for Christian unity at
a Catholic church in Slough during the Church Unity Octave.
The death of a man is unique, and yet it is universal. The straight
line would symbolize its uniqueness, the circle its universality. But
how can one figure symbolize both? Christianity declares that
in the life and death of Jesus Christ the unique and the universal
concur. Perhaps no church father saw this concurrence of the unique
and the universal as clearly, or formulated it as precisely, as Irenaeus.
To be the Savior and the Lord, Jesus Christ has to be a historical
individual with a biography all his own; he dare not be a cosmic
aeon that swoops to earth for a while but never identifies itself
with man's history. Yet this utterly individual historical person
must also contain within himself the common history of mankind. His
history is his alone, yet each man must recognize his own history in
it. His death is his alone, yet each man can see his own death in the
crucifixion of Jesus. Each man can identify himself with the history
and the death of Jesus Christ because Jesus Christ has identified
himself with human history and human death, coming as the head of a
new humanity. Not a circle, then, nor a straight line, but a spiral
represents the shape of death as Irenaeus sees it; for a spiral has
motion as well as recurrence. As represented by a spiral, history may,
in some sense, be said to repeat itself; yet each historical event
remains unique. Christ is both unique and universal. The first
turn of the spiral is the primeval history of humanity in Adam. As
Origen interprets the end of history on the basis of its beginning,
so Irenaeus portrays the story of Adam on the basis of the story of
Christ. "Whence, then, comes the substance of the first man? From
God's Will and Wisdom, and from virgin earth. For 'God had
not rained', says the Scripture, before man was made, 'and there
was no man to till the earth'. From this earth, then, while it was
still virgin God took dust and fashioned the man, the beginning of humanity".
Irenaeus does not regard Adam and Eve merely as private
individuals, but as universal human beings, who were and are all of humanity.
Adam and Eve were perfect, not in the sense that they possessed
perfection, but in the sense that they were capable of development
toward perfection. They were, in fact, children. Irenaeus does not
claim pre-existence for the human soul; therefore there is no need for
him, as there is for Origen, to identify existence itself with the
fall. Existence is created and willed by God and is not the consequence
of a pre-existent rebellion or of a cosmic descent from eternity
into history. Historical existence is a created good. The biblical
symbol for this affirmation is expressed in the words: "So
God created man in his own image; in the similitude of God he created
him". There are some passages in the writings of Irenaeus where
the image of God and the similitude are sharply distinguished, so
most notably in the statement: "If the [Holy] Spirit is absent
from the soul, such a man is indeed of an animal nature; and, being
left carnal, he will be an imperfect being, possessing the image
[of
God] in his formation, but not receiving the similitude [of God]
through the Spirit". Thus the image of God is that which makes
a man a man and not an oyster; the similitude of God, by contrast,
is that which makes a man a child of God and not merely a rational creature.
Recent research on Irenaeus, however, makes it evident that
he does not consistently maintain this distinction. He does not mean
to say that Adam lost the similitude of God and his immortality through
the fall; for he was created not exactly immortal, nor yet exactly
mortal, but capable of immortality as well as of mortality.
Therefore Irenaeus describes man's creation as follows:
"So that the man should not have thoughts of grandeur, and become lifted
up, as if he had no lord, because of the dominion that had been
given to him, and the freedom, fall into sin against God his Creator,
overstepping his bounds, and take up an attitude of self-conceited arrogance
towards God, a law was given him by God, that he might know
that he had for lord the lord of all. And He laid down for him certain
conditions: so that, if he kept the command of God, then he would
always remain as he was, that is, immortal; but if he did not, he
would become mortal, melting into earth, whence his frame had been taken".
These conditions man did not keep, and thus he became mortal;
yet he did not stop being human as a result. There is no justification
for systematizing the random statements of Irenaeus about the image
of God beyond this, nor for reading into his imprecise usage the
later theological distinction between the image of God (humanity) and
the similitude of God (immortality). Man was created with the
capacity for immortality, but the devil's promise of immortality
in exchange for disobedience cost Adam his immortality. He was, in the
words of Irenaeus, "beguiled by another under the pretext of immortality".
The true way to immortality lay through obedience, but man
did not believe this. "Eve was disobedient; for she did
not obey when as yet she was a virgin. And even as she, having indeed
a husband, Adam, but being nevertheless as yet a virgin **h, having
become disobedient, was made the cause of death, both to herself and
to the entire human race; so also did Mary, having a man betrothed
[to her], and being nevertheless a virgin, by yielding obedience, become
the cause of salvation, both to herself and the whole human race".
Because he interprets the primitive state of man as one of mere
potentiality or capacity and believes that Adam and Eve were created
as children, Irenaeus often seems inclined to extenuate their disobedience
as being "due, no doubt, to carelessness, but still wicked".
His interpretation of the beginning on the basis of the end prompts
him to draw these parallels between the Virgin Eve and the Virgin
Mary. That parallelism affects his picture of man's disobedience too;
for as it was Christ, the Word of God, who came to rescue man,
so it was disobedience to the word of God in the beginning that brought
death into the world, and all our woe. With this act of disobedience,
and not with the inception of his individual existence, man
began the downward circuit on the spiral of history, descending from
the created capacity for immortality to an inescapable mortality. At
the nadir of that circuit is death. "Along with the fruit they did
also fall under the power of death, because they did eat in disobedience;
and disobedience to God entails death. Wherefore, as they became
forfeit to death, from that [moment] they were handed over to it".
This leads Irenaeus to the somewhat startling notion that Adam
and Eve died on the same day that they disobeyed, namely, on a Friday,
as a parallel to the death of Christ on Good Friday; he sees
a parallel also to the Jewish day of preparation for the Sabbath. In
any case, though they had been promised immortality if they ate of
the tree, they obtained mortality instead. The wages of sin is death.
Man's life, originally shaped for immortality and for communion with
God, must now be conformed to the shape of death. Nevertheless,
even at the nadir of the circuit the spiral of history belongs
to God, and he still rules. Even death, therefore, has a providential
as well as a punitive function. "Wherefore also He [God]
drove him [man] out of Paradise, and removed him far from the tree
of life, not because He envied him the tree of life, as some venture
to assert, but because He pitied him, [and did not desire] that
he should continue a sinner for ever, nor that the sin which surrounded
him should be immortal, and evil interminable and irremediable. But
He set a bound to his [state of] sin, by interposing death, and thus
causing sin to cease, putting an end to it by the dissolution of the
flesh, which should take place in the earth, so that man, ceasing at
length to live in sin, and dying to it, might live to God". This
idea, which occurs in both Tatian and Cyprian, fits especially well
into the scheme of Irenaeus' theology; for it prepares the way for
the passage from life through death to life that is achieved in Christ.
As man can live only by dying, so it was only by his dying that
Christ could bring many to life. It is probably fair to say
that the idea of death is more profound in Irenaeus than the idea of
sin is. This applies to his picture of Adam. It is borne out also
by the absence of any developed theory about how sin passes from one generation
to the next. It becomes most evident in his description of
Christ as the second Adam, who does indeed come to destroy sin, but
whose work culminates in the achievement of immortality. This emphasis
upon death rather than sin as man's fundamental problem Irenaeus
shares with many early theologians, especially the Greek-speaking ones.
They speak of the work of Christ as the bestowal of incorruptibility,
which can mean (though it does not have to mean) deliverance from
time and history. Death reminds man of his sin, but it reminds
him also of his transience. It represents a punishment that he knows
he deserves, but it also symbolizes most dramatically that he lives
his life within the process of time. These two aspects of death cannot
be successfully separated, but they dare not be confused or identified.
The repeated efforts in Christian history to describe death as
altogether the consequence of human sin show that these two aspects of
death cannot be separated. Such efforts almost always find themselves
compelled to ask whether Adam was created capable of growing old and
then older and then still older, in short, whether Adam's life was
intended to be part of the process of time. If it was, then it must
have been God's intention to translate him at a certain point from
time to eternity. One night, so some of these theories run, Adam would
have fallen asleep, much as he fell asleep for the creation of Eve;
and thus he would have been carried over into the life eternal. The
embarrassment of these theories over the naturalness of death is an
illustration of the thesis that death cannot be only a punishment, for
some termination seems necessary in a life that is lived within the
natural order of time and change. On the other hand, Christian
faith knows that death is more than the natural termination of temporal
existence. It is the wages of sin, and its sting is the law.
If
this aspect of death as punishment is not distinguished from the idea
of death as natural termination, the conclusion seems inevitable that
temporal existence itself is a form of punishment rather than the state
into which man is put by the will of the Creator. This seems to have
been the conclusion to which Origen was forced. If death receives
more than its share of attention from the theologian and if sin receives
less than its share, the gift of the life eternal through Christ
begins to look like the divinely appointed means of rescue from temporal,
i&e&, created, existence. Such an interpretation of death radically
alters the Christian view of creation; for it teaches salvation
from, not salvation in, time and history. Because Christianity
teaches not only salvation in history, but salvation by the history of
Christ, such an interpretation of death would require a drastic revision
of the Christian understanding of the work of Christ.

Furthermore, as an encouragement to revisionist thinking, it manifestly

is fair to admit that any fraternity has a constitutional right
to refuse to accept persons it dislikes. The Unitarian clergy were
an exclusive club of cultivated gentlemen- as the term was then understood
in the Back Bay- and Parker was definitely not a gentleman,
either in theology or in manners. Ezra Stiles Gannett, an honorable
representative of the sanhedrin, addressed himself frankly to the
issue in 1845, insisting that Parker should not be persecuted or calumniated
and that in this republic no power to restrain him by force
could exist. Even so, Gannett judiciously argued, the Association could
legitimately decide that Parker "should not be encouraged nor
assisted in diffusing his opinions by those who differ from him in regard
to their correctness". We today are not entitled to excoriate
honest men who believed Parker to be downright pernicious and who
barred their pulpits against his demand to poison the minds of their
congregations.
One can even argue- though this is a delicate matter-
that every justification existed for their returning the Public Lecture
to the First Church, and so to suppress it, rather than let Parker
use it as a sounding board for his propaganda when his turn should
come to occupy it. Finally, it did seem clear as day to these clergymen,
as Gannett's son explained in the biography of his father,
they had always contended for the propriety of their claim to the title
of Christians. Their demand against the Calvinist Orthodoxy for
intellectual liberty had never meant that they would follow "free inquiry"
to the extreme of proclaiming Christianity a "natural" religion.

Grant all this- still, when modern Unitarianism and

the Harvard Divinity School recall with humorous affection the insults
Parker lavished upon them, or else argue that after all Parker
received the treatment he invited, they betray an uneasy conscience.
Whenever New England liberalism is reminded of the dramatic confrontation
of Parker and the fraternity on January 23, 1843- while it
may defend the privilege of Chandler Robbins to demand that Parker
leave the Association, while it may plead that Dr& N& L& Frothingham
had every warrant for stating, "The difference between Trinitarians
and Unitarians is a difference in Christianity; the difference
between Mr& Parker and the Association is a difference
between no Christianity and Christianity"- despite these supposed
conclusive assurances, the modern liberal heaves repeatedly a sigh
of relief, of positive thanksgiving, that the Association never quite
brought itself officially to expel Parker. Had it done so, the blot
on its escutcheon would have remained indelible, nor could the Harvard
Divinity School assemble today to honor Parker's insurgence other
than by getting down on its collective knees and crying "peccavi".

Happily for posterity, then, the Boston Association did

not actually command Parker to leave the room, though it came too close
for comfort to what would have been an unforgivable brutality. Fortunately,
the honor of the denomination can attest that Cyrus Bartol
defended Parker's sincerity, as did also Gannett and Chandler
Robbins; whereupon Parker broke down into convulsions of weeping and
rushed out of the room, though not out of the Fellowship. In the
hall, after adjournment, Dr& Frothingham took him warmly by the
hand
and requested Parker to visit him- whereupon our burly Theodore
again burst into tears. All this near tragedy, which to us borders
on comedy, enables us to tell the story over and over again, always
warming ourselves with a glow of complacency. It was indeed a near
thing, but somehow the inherent decency of New England (which we inherit)
did triumph. Parker was never excommunicated. To the extent
that he was ostracized or even reviled, we solace ourselves by saying
he asked for it. Yet, even after all these stratagems, the conscience
of Christian liberality is still not laid to rest, any more than is
the conscience of Harvard University for having done the abject penance
for its rejection of Ralph Waldo Emerson's The Divinity School
Address of naming its hall of philosophy after him. In both cases
the stubborn fact remains: liberalism gave birth to two brilliant
apostates, both legitimate offspring of its loins, and when brought
to the test, it behaved shabbily. Suppose they both had ventured into
realms which their colleagues thought infidel: is this the way gentlemen
settle frank differences of opinion? Is it after all possible
that no matter how the liberals trumpet their confidence in human dignity
they are exposed to a contagion of fear more insidious than any
conservative has ever to worry about? However, there is a crucial
difference between the two histories. Emerson evaded the problem
by shoving it aside, or rather by leaving it behind him: he walked
out of the Unitarian communion, so that it could lick the wound of his
departure, preserve its self-respect and eventually accord him pious
veneration. Parker insisted upon <not> resigning, even when the majority
wanted him to depart, upon daring the Fellowship to throw him
out. Hence he was in his lifetime, as is the memory of him afterwards,
a canker within the liberal sensitivity. He still points an accusing
finger at all of us, telling us we have neither the courage to support
him nor the energy to cut his throat. Actually, the dispute
between Parker and the society of his time, both ecclesiastical and
social, was a real one, a bitter one. It cannot be smoothed over by
now cherishing his sarcasms as delightful bits of self-deprecation or
by solemnly calling for a reconsideration of the justice of the objections
to him. The fact is incontestable: that liberal world of Unitarian
Boston <was> narrow-minded, intellectually sterile, smug, afraid
of the logical consequences of its own mild ventures into iconoclasm,
and quite prepared to resort to hysterical repressions when its brittle
foundations were threatened. Parker, along with Garrison and
Charles Sumner, showed a magnificent moral bravery when facing mobs
mobilized in defense of the Mexican War and slavery. Nevertheless,
we can find reasons for respecting even the bigotry of the populace;
their passions were genuine, and the division between them and the abolitionists
is clear-cut. But Parker as the ultra-liberal minister within
the pale of a church which had proclaimed itself the repository
of liberality poses a different problem, which is not to be resolved by
holding him up as the champion of freedom. Even though his theological
theses have become, to us, commonplaces, the fundamental interrogation
he phrased is very much with us. It has been endlessly rephrased,
but I may here put it thus: at what point do the tolerant find themselves
obliged to become intolerant? And then, as they become aware
that they have reached the end of their patience, what do they, to
their dismay, learn for the first time about themselves? There
can be no doubt, the Boston of that era could be exquisitely cruel
in enforcing its canons of behavior. The gentle Channing, revered
by all Bostonians, orthodox or Unitarian, wrote to a friend in Louisville
that among its many virtues Boston did not abound in a tolerant
spirit, that the yoke of opinion crushed individuality of judgment and
action: "No city in the world is governed so little by a police,
and so much by mutual inspections and what is called public sentiment.
We stand more in awe of one another than most people. Opinion is
less individual or runs more into masses, and often rules with a rod
of iron". Even more poignantly, and with the insight of a genius,
Channing added- remember, this is Channing, not Parker!-
that should a minister in Boston trust himself to his heart, should
he "speak without book, and consequently break some law of speech,
or be hurried into some daring hyperbole, he should find little mercy".

Channing wrote this- in a letter! I think it fair to

say that he never quite reached such candor in his sermons. But Theodore
Parker, commencing his mission to the world-at-large, disguised
as the minister of a "twenty-eighth Congregational Church" which
bore no resemblance to the Congregational polities descended from the
founders (among which were still the Unitarian churches), made explicit
from the beginning that the conflict between him and the Hunkerish
society was not something which could be evaporated into a genteel
difference about clerical decorum. Because he spoke openly with what
Channing had prophesied someone might- with daring hyperbole- Parker
vindicated Channing's further prophecy that he who committed
this infraction of taste would promptly discover how little mercy liberals
were disposed to allow to libertarians who appeared to them libertines.
An institutionalized liberalism proved itself fundamentally an
institution, and only within those defined limits a license.
By reminding ourselves of these factors in the situation, we should,
I am sure, come to a fresh realization, however painful it be, that the
battle between Parker and his neighbors was fought in earnest. He
arraigned the citizens in language of so little courtesy that they had
to respond with, at the least, resentment. What otherwise could "the
lawyer, doctor, minister, the men of science and letters" do when
told that they had "become the cherubim and seraphim and the three
archangels who stood before the golden throne of the merchant, and continually
cried, 'Holy, holy, holy is the Almighty
Dollar'"?
Nor, when we recollect how sensitive were the emotions of the old Puritan
stock in regard to the recent tides of immigration, should we be
astonished that their thin lips were compressed into a white line of
rage as Parker snarled at them thus: "Talk about the Catholics
voting as the bishop tells! reproach the Catholics for it! You
and I do the same thing. There are a great many bishops who have never
had a cross on their bosom, nor a mitre on their head, who appeal not
to the authority of the Pope at Rome, but to the Almighty Dollar,
a pope much nearer home. Boston has been controlled by a few capitalists,
lawyers and other managers, who told the editors what to say and
the preachers what to think". This was war. Parker meant business.
And he took repeated care to let his colleagues know that he intended
them: "Even the Unitarian churches have caught the malaria,
and are worse than those who deceived them"- which implied that they
were very bad indeed. It was "<Duty>" he said that his parents
had given him as a rule- beyond even the love that suffused his
being and the sense of humor with which he was largely supplied- and
it was duty he would perform, though it cost him acute pain and exhausted
him by the age of fifty. Parker could weep- and he wept astonishingly
often and on the slightest provocation- but the psychology of
those tears was entirely compatible with a remorseless readiness to
massacre his opponents. "If it gave me pleasure to say hard things",
he wrote, "I would shut up forever". We have to tell ourselves
that when Parker spoke in this vein, he believed what he said, because
he could continue, "But the TRUTH, which cost me bitter
tears to say, I must speak, though it cost other tears hotter than
fire". Because he copiously shed his own tears, and yielded himself
up as a living sacrifice to the impersonalized conscience of New England,
he was not disturbed by the havoc he worked in other people's
consciences. Our endeavor to capture even a faint sense of how
strenuous was the fight is muffled by our indifference to the very
issue which in the Boston of 1848 seemed to be the central hope of its
Christian survival, that of the literal, factual historicity of the
miracles as reported in the Four Gospels. It is idle to ask why we
are no longer disturbed if somebody, professing the deepest piety,
decides anew
that it is of no importance whether or not Christ transformed the
water into wine at eleven A& M& on the third of August, A&
D& 32. We have no answer as to why we are not alarmed. So we are
the more prepared to give Parker the credit for having taken the right
side in an unnecessary controversy, to salute his courage, and to pass
on, happily forgetting both him and the entire episode. We have not
the leisure, or the patience, or the skill, to comprehend what was working
in the mind and heart of a then recent graduate from the Harvard
Divinity School who would muster the audacity to contradict his most
formidable instructor, the majesterial Andrews Norton, by saying
that, while he believed Jesus "like other religious teachers", worked
miracles, "I see not how a miracle proves a doctrine".
I have, within the past fifty years, come out of all uncertainty
into a faith which is a dominating conviction of the Truth and about
which I have not a shadow of doubt. It has been my lot all through
life to associate with eminent scientists and at times to discuss with
them the deepest and most vital of all questions, the nature of the
hope of a life beyond this. I have also constantly engaged in scientific
work and am fully aware of the value of opinions formed in science
as well as in the religions in the world. In an amateurish, yet in
a very real sense, I have followed the developments of archaeology, geology,
astronomy, herpetology, and mycology with a hearty appreciation
of the advances being made in these fields. At one time I became
disturbed in the faith in which I had grown up by the apparent
inroads being made upon both Old and New Testaments by a "Higher
Criticism" of the Bible, to refute which I felt the need of a better
knowledge of Hebrew and of archaeology, for it seemed to me that
to pull out some of the props of our faith was to weaken the entire structure.

Doubts thus inculcated left me floundering for a while

and, like some higher critical friends, trying to continue to use the
Bible as the Word of God while at the same time holding it to have
been subjected to a vast number of redactions and interpolations:
attempting to bridge the chasm between an older, reverent, Bible-loving
generation and a critical, doubting, Bible-emancipated race. Although
still aware of a great light and glow of warmth in the Book, I
stood outside shivering in the cold. In one thing the higher
critics, like the modernists, however, overreached themselves, in claiming
that the Gospel of John was not written in John's time but
well after the first century, perhaps as late as 150 A&D&. Now,
if any part of the Bible is assuredly the very Word of God speaking
through His servant, it is John's Gospel. To ask me to believe
that so inexpressibly marvelous a book was written long after all the
events by some admiring follower, and was not inspired directly by the
Spirit of God, is asking me to accept a miracle far greater than any
of those recorded in the Bible. Here I took my leave of my learned
friends to step out on another path, to which we might give the modern
name of Pragmatism, or the thing that works. Test it, try it, and
if it works, accept it as a guiding principle. So, I put my
Bible to the practical test of noting what it says about itself, and
then tested it to see how it worked. As a short, possibly not the best
method, I looked up "Word" in the Concordance and noted that
the Bible claims from Genesis 1 to Revelation 22 to be God's personal
message to man. The next traditional step then was to accept it
as the authoritative textbook of the Christian faith just as one would
accept a treatise on any earthly "science", and I submitted to
its conditions according to Christ's invitation and promise that,
<"If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether
it be of God, or whether I speak of myself"> (John 7:17).

The outcome of such an experiment has been in due time the acceptance
of the Bible as the Word of God inspired in a sense utterly
different from any merely human book, and with it the acceptance of
our Lord Jesus Christ as the only begotten Son of God, Son of Man
by the Virgin Mary, the Saviour of the world. I believe,
therefore, that we are without exception sinners, by nature alienated
from God, and that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, came to earth,
the representative Head of a new race, to die upon the cross and pay
the penalty of the sin of the world, and that he who thus receives Christ
as his personal Saviour is "born again" spiritually, with new
privileges, appetites, and affections, destined to live and grow in
His likeness forever. Nor can any man save himself by good works or
by a commendable "moral life", although such works are the natural
fruits and evidences of a saving faith already received and naturally
expressing itself through such avenues. I now ever look for
Christ acording to His promises and those of the Old Testament as
well, to appear again in glory to put away all sin and to reign in righteousness
over the whole earth. To state fully what the Bible
means as my daily spiritual food is as intimate and difficult as to
formulate the reasons for loving my nearest and dearest relatives and
friends. The Bible is as obviously and truly food for the spirit as
bread is food for the body. Again, as faith reveals God my Father
and Christ my Saviour, I follow without question where He leads me
daily by His Spirit of love, wisdom, power and prayer. I place His
precepts and His leadings above every seeming probability, dismissing
cherished convictions and holding the wisdom of man as folly when opposed
to Him. I discern no limits to a faith vested in God and Christ,
who is the sum of all wisdom and knowledge, and daring to trust Him
even though called to stand alone before the world. Our Lord's
invitation with its implied promise to all is, "Come and see".

I STOOD at the bedside of my patient one day and beheld

a very sick man in terrible pain. As I ministered to his needs,
I noticed that his face was radiant in spite of his suffering and I
learned that he was trusting not only in the skill of his doctor and
nurse but also the Lord. In his heart he had that peace of which
the Lord spoke when He said, <"Peace I leave with you, my peace
I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let
not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid">. What
a joy to realize that we, too, can claim this promise tendered by
the Lord during His earthly ministry to a group of men who were very
dear to Him. He was about to leave them, to depart from this world,
and return to His Father in Heaven. Before He left them He promised
that His peace would be their portion to abide in their hearts
and minds. I praise God for the privilege of being a nurse who
has that peace through faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. It makes
my work a great deal easier to be able to pray for the Lord's guidance
while ministering to the physical needs of my patients. How
often have I looked to Jesus when entering the sick room, asking
for His presence and help in my professional duties as I give my talents
not only as the world giveth but as one who loves the Saviour and
His creatures. Looking unto God, the Prophet Isaiah wrote
these blessed words almost three thousand years ago: <"Thou wilt
keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because
he trusteth in thee">. Are you longing for peace in your heart?
Such a calm and assuring peace can be yours. As only a member
of the family can share in the innermost joys of the family, likewise
one must belong to the family of God in order to receive the benefits
that are promised to those who are His own. Perhaps you are
not His child. Perhaps you do not know if you belong to Him. You
may know that you are in God's family and be just as sure of it as
you are that you belong to the family of your earthly father.
<"God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that
whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life",>
and <"as many as received him, to them gave he power to become
the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name">.

It is to those who believe on His name and belong to Him that

He gives His peace; not that empty peace the world offers, but a deep,
abiding peace which nothing can destroy. Why not open your
heart to the Lord Jesus Christ now, accept Him as your Saviour
and
let Him fill you with peace that only He can give. Then,
with the hymn writer of old, you can say: "I am resting today
in His wonderful peace, Resting sweetly in Jesus' control.

I am kept from all danger by night and by day, And

His glory is flooding my soul".

SATELLITES, SPUTNIKS, ROCKETS,

BALLOONS; what next? Our necks are stiff from gazing at
the wonders of outer space, which have captured the imagination of the
American public. Cape Canaveral's achievements thunder forth from
the radio, television, and newspaper. While we are filling
outer space with scientific successes, for many the "inner" space
of their soul is an aching void. Proof? An average of 50 suicides
are reported in America each day! One out of every three or
four marriages end in divorce! Over $200,000,000 is paid yearly to
the 80,000 full-time fortune-tellers in the United States by fearful
mankind who want to "know" what the future holds! Delinquency,
juvenile and adult, is at an all-time high! Further proof? Read
your daily newspaper! Unfortunately, in our rush to beat
the Russians, we have forgotten these truth-packed words of Jesus Christ:
<"What shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world>
[that includes outer space], <and lose his own soul? Or what
shall a man give in exchange for his soul"?> (Mark 8:36, 37).

Gaining outer space and losing "inner" space is bad business

according to God's standards. It is true that we must
keep up our national defenses and scientific accomplishments; only
a fool would think otherwise. But we must not forget man's soul.

Is putting a rocket in orbit half so significant as the good news

that God put His Son,
Jesus Christ, on earth to live and die to
save our hell-bound souls? <"For God so loved the world, that
he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should
not perish, but have everlasting life"> (John 3:16). Never
forget that a chain is only as strong as its weakest link. Your spiritual
"inner" space helps determine the spirituality of America
as a nation. We trust you are not one of the 70,000,000 Americans
who do not attend church, but who feel that various forms of recreation
are more important than worshipping the God who made our country great.

Is forgiveness of past sins, assurance of present help, and

hope of future bliss in your orbit? Or are you trying the devil's
substitutes to relieve that spiritual hunger you feel within? Pleasure,
fame and fortune, drowning your troubles with a drink, and "living
it up" with the gang are like candy bars when you're hungry:
they may ease your hunger temporarily, but they'll never take the
place of a satisfying, mouth-watering steak. So it is spiritually.
No amount of religious ceremonies or even joining a church will
relieve the gnawing of your "inner" space. Why? Because your
soul was made to be filled with God Himself, not religious functions
"about" Him. Only He can satisfy the deepest longings. That
is why the Bible commands you to <"Taste and see that the Lord
is good: blessed> [happy] <is the man that trusteth in him">
(Psalm 34:8). You can receive God into your heart and life
by a step of personal faith. Accept the sinless Son of God, Jesus
Christ, as your own personal Saviour. <"As many as received him>
[Jesus], <to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even
to them that believe on his name">
<"The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?
the Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be
afraid"?>
Psalm 27:1 A certain teacher scheduled a "Fear Party"
for her fourth grade pupils. It was a session at which all the youngsters
were told to express their fears, to get them out in the open
where they could talk about them freely. The teacher thought it was
so successful that she asks: "Wouldn't it be helpful to all age
groups if they could participate in a similar confessional of their
fears and worries"? Dr& George W& Crane, a medical
columnist, thinks it would. He says: "That would reduce neurotic
ailments tremendously. Each week an estimated 20 million patients call
upon us doctors. Of this number, 50%, or 10 million patients have
no diagnosable physical ailments whatever. They are 'worry warts'.
Yet they keep running from one physician to another, largely to get
a willing ear who will listen to their parade of troubles. One of
the most wholesome things you could schedule in your church would thus
be a group confessional where people could admit of their inner tensions".

We are evidently trying hard to think of new ways to

deal with the problem of fear these days. It must be getting more serious.
People are giving their doctors a hard time. One doctor made
a careful survey of his patients and the reasons for their troubles, and
he reported that 40% of them worried about things that never happened;
30% of them worried about past happenings which were completely
beyond their control; 12% of them worried about their health,
although their ailments were imaginary; 10% of them worried about
their friends, neighbors, and relatives, most of whom were quite capable
of taking care of themselves. Only 8% of the worries had behind
them real causes which demanded attention. Well, most of our
fears may be unfounded, but after you discover that fact, you have something
else to worry about: Why then do we have these fears? What
is the real cause of them? What is there about us that makes us so
anxious? Look at the things we do to escape our fears and
to forget our worries. We spend millions of dollars every year on fortune
tellers and soothsayers. We spend billions of dollars at the race
tracks, and more billions on other forms of gambling. We spend billions
of dollars on liquor, and many more billions on various forms of
escapist entertainment. We consume tons of aspirin and tranquilizers
and sleeping pills in order to get a moment's relief from the tensions
that are tearing us apart. A visitor from a more peaceful
country across the sea was taken to one of our amusement parks, and after
he had seen it all, he said to a friend: "You must be a very
sad people". "Sad" was not the right word, of course. He should
have said "jittery", for that's what we are. And that's worse
than sad. Watch people flock to amusement houses, cocktail lounges,
and night clubs that advertise continuous entertainment, which means
an endless flow of noise and frivolity by paid entertainers who are supposed
to perform in those incredible ways which are designed to give
men a few hours of dubious relaxation- watch them and you can tell
that many of them are running away from something. In one of
his writings Pascal speaks of this mania for diversion as being a sign
of misery and fear which man cannot endure without such opiates. Yes,
and as tension mounts in this world, fear is increasing. Does that
explain why there is now such a big boom in the bomb shelter business?
We have so many new things to fear in this age of nuclear weapons,
dreadful things which are too horrible to contemplate. I doubt that
"fear parties" and "group confessionals" will help very much.
Suppose we do get our fears out in the open, what then? Isn't that
where most of them are already- right out on the front page of our
newspapers? Maybe we are talking about them too much. The question
is: what are we going to do about them? Meanwhile, the
enemy will capitalize on our fears, if he can. Hitler did just that
23 years ago, building up tensions that first led to a Munich and then
to a world war. The fear of war can make us either too weak to stand
and too willing to compromise, or too reckless and too nervous to negotiate
for peace as long as there is any chance to negotiate. It is
said that fear in human beings produces an odor that provokes animals
to attack. It could have the same effect on Communists. The President
of the United States has said: "We will never negotiate out
of fear, and we will never fear to negotiate". That is a sound position,
but it is important that Moscow shall recognize it not merely
as the word of a president but as the mind of a free people who are not
afraid. And that's another reason why it is imperative for us these
days to conquer our fears, to develop the poise that promotes peace.

Turning to the Word of God, we find the only sure way to do

that. In Psalm 27:1 you read those beautiful words which you must
have in your heart if you are to master the fears that surround you,
or to drive them out if they have you in their grip: "The Lord
is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the Lord is the
strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid"? Well,
you say, those are beautiful words all right, but it was easy for the
psalmist to sing them in his day. He didn't live in a world of perpetual
peril like ours. He didn't know anything about the problems
we face today. No? Read the next two verses: "When the
wicked, even mine enemies and my foes, came upon me to eat up my flesh,
they stumbled and fell. Though an host should encamp against me, my
heart shall not fear: though war should rise against me, in this will
I be confident". That is almost a perfect description of
the predicament in which we find ourselves today, isn't it? Our
enemy is also threatening to devour us. He has already devoured huge
areas of the world, putting men behind concrete walls and iron curtains
and barbed wire, reducing them to slavery, systematically crushing
not only their bodies but their souls, and shooting them to death if they
try to escape their prison. Yes indeed, we too can see a warlike
host of infidels encamped against us. What a terrible thing, that
"wailing wall" in Berlin! A man with a baby in his arms stood
there pleading for his wife who is on the other side with the rest
of the family. Another man tried to swim across the river from the East
to the West, but was shot and killed. A middle aged woman opened
a window on the third floor of her house which was behind the wall,
she threw out a few belongings and then jumped; she was fatally injured.
The entrance to a church has been walled up, so that the congregation,
most of which is in the western sector, cannot worship God there
anymore. Practically everybody in Berlin has relatives and friends
that live in the opposite part of the city. People stand at the wall
giving vent to their feelings, weeping, pounding it with their fists,
pleading for loved ones. But the enemy answers them from loudspeakers
that pour out Communist propaganda with a generous mixture of terrible
profanity. There is only one escape left, a tragic one, and too
many people are taking it: suicide. The normal rate of suicides in
East Berlin was one a day, but since the border was closed on August
13 it has jumped to 25 a day! These things may be happening
many miles away from us but really they are right next door. We are
all involved in them, deeply involved. And nobody knows what comes next.
We live from crisis to crisis. And there is only one way for a
man to conquer his fears in such a world. He must learn to say with
true faith what the psalmist said in a similar world: "The Lord
is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the Lord is the
strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid"?

Notice
that this man had a threefold conception of God which is the secret
of his faith. First, "the Lord is my <light>". He lived in a
very dark world, but he was not in the dark. The same God who called
this world into being when He said: "Let there be light"!-
those were His very first creative words- He began the world with
light- this God still gives light to a world which man has plunged
into darkness. For those who put their trust in Him He still says
every day again: "Let there be light"! And there is light!

In fact, He came into this world Himself, in the person of

His Son, Jesus Christ, who stood here amid the darkness of human
sin and said: "I am the light of the world: he that followeth
me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life". The
psalmist could say that God was his light even though he could only
anticipate the coming of Christ. He lived in the dawn; he could
only see the light coming over the horizon. We live in the bright daylight
of that great event; for us it is a fact in history. Why should
we not have the same faith, and an even greater experience of the light
which it gives? This is the faith that moved the psalmist
to add his second conception of God: "The Lord is **h my <salvation>".
He knew that his God would save him from his enemies
because He had saved him from his sins. If God could do that, He could
do anything. The enemies at his gate, threatening to eat up his
flesh, were nothing compared with the enemy of sin within his own soul.
And God had conquered that one by His grace! So why worry about
all the others? The apostle Paul said the same thing in the
language and faith of the New Testament: "He that spared not
His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with
Him freely give us all things? **h If God be for us, who can be
against us? **h Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?
shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness,
or peril, or sword"? (Romans 8:31, 32, 35) Salvation!
This is the key to
the conquest of fear. This gets down to the heart of our problem, for
it reconciles us with God, whom we fear most of all because we have
sinned against Him. When that fear has been removed by faith in Jesus
Christ, when we know that He is our Savior, that He has paid our
debt with His blood, that He has met the demands of God's justice
and thus has turned His wrath away- when we know that, we have peace
with God in our hearts; and then, with this God on our side,
we can face the whole world without fear. And so the psalmist
gives us one more picture of God: "The Lord is the <strength>
of my life". The word is really "stronghold". It recalls those
words of another psalm: "God is our refuge and strength, a very
present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear, though the earth
be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the
sea **h Come, behold the works of the Lord, what desolations He
hath made in the earth.
But, again, we have no real evidence on this from that quarter until
the close of the ninth century A&D&, when an Arabic scholar, Tabit
ibn Korra (836-901) is said to have discussed the magic square of
three. Thus, while it remains possible that the Babylonians and/or
the Pythagoreans may perhaps have had the magic square of three before
the Chinese did, more definite evidence will have to turn up from
the Middle East or the Classical World before China can lose her
claim to the earliest known magic square by more than a thousand years.

#2. THE "LO SHU" SQUARE AS AN EXPRESSION OF CENTRALITY#

The
concept of the Middle Kingdom at peace, strong and united under a
forceful ruler, which had been only a longed-for ideal in the time of
the
Warring States, was finally realized by the establishment of a Chinese
Empire under the Ch'in dynasty (221-207 B&C&). But this
was only accomplished by excessive cruelty and extremes of totalitarian
despotism. Among the many severe measures taken by the First Emperor,
Shih Huang-ti, in his efforts to insure the continuation of
this hard-won national unity, was the burning of the books in 213 B&C&,
with the expressed intention of removing possible sources for
divergent thinking; but, as he had a special fondness for magic and
divination, he ordered that books on these subjects should be spared.
Many of the latter were destroyed in their turn, during the burning
of the vast Ch'in palace some ten years later; yet some must have
survived, because the old interest in number symbolism, divination,
and magic persisted on into the Han dynasty, which succeeded in reuniting
China and keeping it together for a longer period (from 202 B&C&
to A&D& 220). In fact, during
the first century B&C&, an extensive literature sprang up devoted
to these subjects, finding its typical expression in the so-called
"<wei> books", a number of which were specifically devoted to
the <Lo Shu> and related numerical diagrams, especially in connection
with divination. However, the <wei> books were also destroyed
in a series of Orthodox Confucian purges which culminated in a final
proscription in 605. After all this destruction of old literature,
it should be obvious why we have so little information about the
early history and development of the <Lo Shu>, which was already
semisecret anyhow. But, in spite of all this, enough evidence remains
to show that the magic square of three must indeed have been the object
of a rather extensive cult- or series of cults- reaching fullest
expression in the Han period. Although modern scholars have
expressed surprise that "the simple magic square of three", a mere
"mathematical puzzle", was able to exert a considerable influence
on the minds and imaginations of the cultured Chinese for so many centuries,
they could have found most of the answers right within the square
itself. But, up to now, no one has attempted to analyze its inherent
mathematical properties, or the numerical significance of its numbers-
singly or in combination- and then tried to consider these in
the light of Old Chinese cosmological concepts. Such an analysis
speedily reveals why the middle number of the <Lo Shu>, 5,
was so vitally significant for the Chinese ever since the earliest hints
that they had a knowledge of this diagram. The importance of this
5 can largely be explained by the natural mathematical properties of
the middle number and its special relationship to all the rest of the
numbers- quite apart from any numerological considerations, which is
to say, any symbolic meaning arbitrarily assigned to it. Indeed, mathematically
speaking, it was both functionally and symbolically the most
important number in the entire diagram. If one takes the middle
number, 5, and multiplies it by 3 (the base number of the magic
square of three), the result is 15, which is also the constant sum of
all the rows, columns, and two main diagonals. Then, if the middle number
is activated to its greatest potential in terms of this square, through
multiplying it by the highest number, 9 (which is the square of
the base number), the result is 45; and the latter is the total sum
of all the numbers in the square, by which all the other numbers are
overshadowed and in which they may be said to be absorbed. Furthermore,
the middle number of the <Lo Shu> is not only the physical
mean between every opposing pair of the other numbers, by reason of
its central position; it is also their mathematical mean, since it
is equal to half the sum of every opposing pair, all of which equal 10.
In fact, the neat balance of these pairs, and their subtle equilibrium,
would have had special meaning in the minds of the Old Chinese.
For they considered the odd numbers as male and the even ones as female,
equating the two groups with the Yang and Yin principles in Nature;
and in this square, the respective pairs made up of large and
small odd (Yang) numbers, and those composed of large and small even
(Yin) numbers, were all equal to each other. Thus all differences were
leveled, and all contrasts erased, in a realm of no distinction, and
the harmonious balance of the <Lo Shu> square could effectively
symbolize the world in balanced harmony around a powerful central axis.

The tremendous emphasis on the 5 in the <Lo Shu> square-

for purely mathematical reasons- and the fact that this number so
neatly symbolized the heart and center of the universe, could well explain
why the Old Chinese seem to have so revered the number 5, and
why they put so much stress on the concept of Centrality. These twin
tendencies seem to have reached their height in the Han dynasty.

The existing reverence for Centrality must have been still further
stimulated toward the close of the second century B&C&, when
the Han Emperor Wu Ti ordered the dynastic color changed to yellow-
which symbolized the Center among the traditional Five Directions-
and took 5 as the dynastic number, believing that he would thus
place himself, his imperial family, and the nation under the most auspicious
influences. His immediate motive for doing this may not have
been directly inspired by the <Lo Shu>, but this measure must inevitably
have increased the existing beliefs in the latter's efficacy.

After this time, inscriptions on the Han bronze mirrors, as well

as other writings, emphasized the desirability of keeping one's
self at the center of the universe, where cosmic forces were strongest.
Later, we shall see what happened when an emperor took this idea too
literally. All this emphasis on Centrality and on the number
5 as a symbolic expression of the Center, which seems to have begun
as far back as 400 B&C&, also may conceivably have led to the development
of the Five-Elements School and the subsequent efforts to
fit everything into numerical categories of five. We find, for example,
such groupings as the Five Ancient Rulers, the Five Sacred Mountains,
the Five Directions (with Center), the Five Metals, Five
Colors, Five Tastes, Five Odors, Five Musical Notes, Five
Bodily Functions, Five Viscera, and many others. This trend has
often been ascribed to the cult of the Five Elements itself, as though
they had served as the base for all the rest; but why did the Old
Chinese postulate <five> elements, when the Ancient Near East-
which may have initiated the idea that natural elements exerted influence
in human life and activities- recognized only four? And why
did the Chinese suddenly begin to talk about the Five Directions,
when the animals they used as symbols of the directions designated only
the usual four? Obviously, something suddenly caused them to start
thinking in terms of fives, and that may have been the workings of
the <Lo Shu>. This whole tendency had an unfortunate effect
on Chinese thinking. Whereas the primary meanings of the <Lo Shu>
diagram seemed to have been based on its inner mathematical properties-
and we shall see that even its secondary meanings rested on
some mathematical bases- the urgent desire to place everything into
categories of fives led to other groupings based on other numbers, until
an exaggerated emphasis on mere numerology pervaded Chinese thought.
Scholars made numbered sets of as many things as possible in Nature,
or assigned arbitrary numbers to individual things, in a fashion that
seems to the modern scientific mind as downright nonsensical, and
philosophical ideas based upon all this tended to stifle speculative thought
in China for many centuries.

#3. YIN AND YANG IN THE "LO SHU"

SQUARE#

Although the primary mathematical properties of the middle

number at the center of the <Lo Shu>, and the interrelation
of all the other numbers to it, might seem enough to account for the deep
fascination which the <Lo Shu> held for the Old Chinese philosophers,
this was actually only a beginning of wonders. For the <Lo
Shu> square was a remarkably complete compendium of most of the chief
religious and philosophical ideas of its time. As such, one cannot
fully understand the thought of the pre-Han and Han periods without
knowing the meanings inherent in the <Lo Shu>; but, conversely,
one cannot begin to understand the <Lo Shu> without knowing something
about the world view of the Old Chinese, which they felt they
saw expressed in it. The Chinese world view during the Han dynasty,
when the <Lo Shu> seems to have been at the height of its
popularity, was based in large part on the teachings of the Yin-Yang
and Five-Elements School, which was traditionally founded by Tsou
Yen. According to this doctrine, the universe was ruled by Heaven,
<T'ien>- as a natural force, or in the personification of a Supreme
Sky-god- governing all things by means of a process called the
<Tao>,
which can be roughly interpreted as "the Order of the Universe"
or "the Universal Way". Heaven, acting through the Tao,
expressed itself by means of the workings of two basic principles,
the Yin and the Yang. The Yang, or male principle, was the source
of light, heat, and dynamic vitality, associated with the Sun; while
the Yin, or female principle, flourished in darkness, cold, and quiet
inactivity, and was associated with the Moon. Together these two
principles influenced all things, and in varying combinations they were
present in everything. We have already seen that odd numbers
were considered as being Yang, while the even numbers were Yin, so
that the eight outer numbers of the <Lo Shu> represented these two
principles in balanced equilibrium around the axial center. During
the Han dynasty, another Yin-Yang conception was applied to the <Lo
Shu>, considering the latter as a plan of Ancient China. Instead
of linking the nine numbers of this diagram with the traditional Nine
Provinces, as was usually
done, this equated the odd, Yang numbers
with mountains (firm and resistant, hence Yang) and the even numbers
with rivers (sinuous and yielding, hence Yin); taking the former
from the Five Sacred Mountains of the Han period and the latter from
the principal river systems of Old China. Thus the middle
number, 5, represented Sung-Shan in Honan, Central China; the
3, T'ai-Shan in Shantung, East China; the 7, Hwa-Shan in Shensi,
West China; the 1, Heng-Shan in Hopei, North China (or
the mountain with the same name in neighboring Shansi); and the
9, Huo-Shan in Anhwei, which was then the South Sacred Mountain.
For the rivers, the 4 represented the Huai, to the (then) Southeast;
the 2, the San Kiang (three rivers) in the (then) Southwest;
the 8, the Chi in the Northeast; and the 6, the (upper) Yellow River
in the Northwest. Note that by Western standards this
plan was "upside down", as it put North at the bottom and South
at the top, with the other directions correspondingly altered; but in
this respect it was merely following the accepted Chinese convention
for all maps. The same arrangement was used when the <Lo Shu> was
equated with the Nine Provinces; and whenever the <Lo Shu>
involved directional symbolism, it was oriented in this same fashion.
Few persons who join the Church are insincere. They earnestly desire
to do the will of God. When they fall by the wayside and fail to achieve
Christian stature, it is an <indictment of the Church>. These
fatalities are dramatic evidence of "halfway evangelism", a failure
to follow through. A program of Lay Visitation Evangelism can
end in dismal defeat with half the new members drifting away unless
practical plans and strenuous efforts are made to keep them in the active
fellowship. The work of Lay Visitation Evangelism is not
completed when all of the persons on the Responsibility List have
been interviewed. In the average situation about one-third of those visited
make commitments to Christ and the Church. The pastor and the
Membership Preparation and Assimilation Committee <must follow
through> immediately with a carefully planned program. The first thirty
to sixty days after individuals make their decision will determine
their interest and participation in the life of the Church. Neglect
means spiritual paralysis or death.

#PREPARATION FOR MEMBERSHIP#

CHURCHES THAT HAVE a carefully planned program of membership preparation

and assimilation often keep 85 to 90 per cent of their new members
loyal and active. This is the answer to the problem of "membership
delinquency". It is important that persons desiring to
unite with the Church be <prepared> for this experience so that it
may be meaningful and spiritually significant. It is unfair and unchristian
to ask a person to take the sacred vows of Church membership
before he has been carefully instructed concerning their implications.

Preparation for Church membership begins immediately after

the commitment is received. _1)_ The pastor <writes a personal letter>
to each individual, expressing his joy over the decision, assuring
him of a pastoral call at the earliest convenient time, and outlining
the plan for membership preparation classes and Membership Sunday.
Some pastors write a letter the same night the decision is reported
by the visitors. It should not be postponed later than the next day.
A helpful leaflet may be enclosed in the letter. _2)_ The pastor
calls in the home of each individual or family for a <spiritual guidance
conference>. If possible, he should make an appointment in order
that all persons involved may be present. This is <not> a social
call. It is definitely a "spiritual guidance conference". He
will discuss the significance of Christian commitment, the necessity
of family religion and private devotions, and the importance of the
membership preparation sessions. There may be problems of conduct or
questions of belief which will require his counsel. Each conference
should be concluded naturally with prayer. A piece of devotional material,
such as <The Upper Room>, may be left in each home. _3)_
A minimum of <four sessions of preparation for membership> is necessary
for adults. Some churches require more. None should ask less.
Those who join the Church need to be instructed in the faith and the
meaning of Christian discipleship <before> they take the sacred
vows. They will have a greater appreciation for the Church and a deeper
devotion to it if membership requires something of them. Many
churches find the Sunday school hour to be the most practical time
for adult preparation classes. Others meet on Sunday night, at the
mid-week service, or for a series of four nights. Some pastors have
two sessions in one evening, with a refreshment period between.
The sessions should cover four major areas: _A_- The Christian
Faith _B_- History of the Church _C_- Duties of Church
Membership _D_- The Local Church and Its Program

Following each instruction period a piece of literature dealing

with the topic should be handed each one for further reading during the
week. This procedure is much more effective than giving out a membership
packet.

#FOURTH SESSION IMPORTANT#

MOST PASTORS FIND

that the fourth session should take at least two hours and therefore
hold it on a week night prior to Reception Sunday. In this session
the persons seeking membership are provided information concerning the
work of the denomination as well as the program and activities of the
local church. The lay leadership of the church may be invited to speak
on the various phases of church life, service opportunities, the church
school, missions, men's work, women's work, youth program, social
activities, and finances. The budget of the church may be presented
and pledges solicited at this session. An "interest finder" or
"talent sheet" may be filled out by each person. (See sample on
pp& 78-79.) The fourth session may be concluded with a tour of the
church facilities and refreshments. The social time gives an opportunity
for church leaders to become acquainted with the new members.

#ADDITIONAL
SUGGESTIONS FOR MEMBERSHIP PREPARATION#

IN CONDUCTING
the Membership Preparation-Inquirers' Class, the pastor should
plan a variety of teaching techniques in order to develop greater interest
on the part of the class. The following have been found effective.

_1)_ <Extend the number of classes>. Some churches have

six or more training sessions of two hours each, generally held on Sunday
night or during the week. This gives greater opportunity for the
learning process. _2)_ <Use dramatization>- for example, in
discussing the Lord's Supper or church symbolism. _3)_ <Use
audio-visual aids>. Some excellent filmstrips with recordings and motion
pictures may be secured from your denominational headquarters to
enrich the class session. _4)_ <Have a "Question Box>".
Some new members will hesitate to ask questions audibly. Urge them
to write out their questions for the box. _5)_ <Use a textbook>
with assigned readings each week. _6)_ <Select class members for
reports> on various phases of the study. _7)_ <Conduct examinations>,
using a true-false check sheet. _8)_ <Ask each member
to write a statement> on such topics as: "What Christ Means to
Me", "What the Church Means to Me", "Why Join the Church",
"The Duties of Church Members", etc&. _9)_ <Assign
a series of catechism questions> to be memorized. _10)_ <Invite
class members to share in an extra period of Bible study> each
week. _11)_ <Ask each new member to bring his Pledge of Loyalty>
to the Reception Service.

#WHAT ABOUT TRANSFERS?#

THERE
IS A GROWING CONVICTION among pastors and Church leaders that
all those who come into the fellowship of the Church need preparatory
training, including those coming by transfer of membership. George E&
Sweazey writes: "There is danger in trying to make admission
to the Church so easy and painless that people will scarcely know
that anything has happened". People appreciate experiences
that demand something of them. Those who transfer their membership are
no exception to the rule. For most of them, it will be their first
experience in membership training, since this is a recent development
in many churches. Those coming from other denominations will welcome
the opportunity to become informed. The preparatory class is
an introductory face-to-face group in which new members become acquainted
with one another. It provides a natural transition into the life
of the local church and its organizations.

#RECEPTION INTO THE CHURCH

FELLOWSHIP#

THE TOTAL PROCESS of evangelism reaches the crescendo

when the group of new members stands before the congregation to
declare publicly their faith and to be received into the fellowship
of the Church. This should be a high moment in their lives, a
never-to-be-forgotten
experience. They should sense the tremendous significance
of joining the spiritual succession reaching back to Christ our
Lord and forward to an eternal fellowship with the saints of the ages.

Every detail of the service merits careful attention- the

hymns, the sermon, the ritual, the right hand of fellowship, the introduction
to the congregation, the welcome of the congregation. This is
a vital part of their spiritual growth and assimilation. It will help
to determine the attitude of the new members toward the Church. It
can mean the difference between participation and inaction, spiritual
growth and decay. The worship service is the natural and logical
time to receive new members into the Church. The atmosphere for
this momentous experience can be created most effectively through the
worship experience. Psychologically the reception should be the
climax, following the sermon. _1)_ Ask the new members to meet thirty
minutes before the service to complete "talent sheets" and pledge
cards. Some denominations ask new members to sign personally the
chronological membership register. Provide a <name card> for each
new member. Outline plans for the entire service. _2)_ Arrange a
reserved section in the sanctuary where all new members may sit together.
Sponsors may sit with them also. _3)_ Invite sponsors or Fellowship
Friends to stand back of the new members in the reception service.

_4)_ Give each new member a certificate of membership. _5)_

Introduce each new member to the congregation, asking him to face
the congregation. _6)_ Lead the congregation in a response of
welcome. _7)_ Have a reception for new members in the parlor or
social hall immediately after the service. _8)_ Take a picture of
the group of new members to be put in the church paper or placed on the
bulletin board. _9)_ Have a fellowship luncheon or dinner with
new members as guests.

#CHAPTER 6 PLANNING FOR THE ASSIMILATION AND

GROWTH OF NEW MEMBERS#

THE CHURCH is "the family of God".

The members of the "family" are drawn together by a common love
for Christ and a sincere devotion to His Kingdom. Every member
of the family must have a vital place in its life. This is no spectator-type
experience; everyone is to be a participant. Yet the
most difficult problem in the Church's program of evangelism is right
at this point- helping new members to become participating, growing
parts of the fellowship. Very easily they may be neglected and eventually
join the ranks of the unconcerned and inactive. A study
of major denominational membership statistics over a twenty-year period
revealed the appalling fact that nearly 40 per cent of those who
joined the Church were <lost to the Church within seven years>. One
denomination had a membership of 1,419,833 at the beginning of the
period under study, and twenty years later its membership stood at 1,541,991-
a net growth of only 122,158. Yet during the same period there
were 1,080,062 additions. Another major church body had 4,499,608
members and twenty years later its membership stood at 4,622,444. During
this time 4,122,354 new members were brought into the fellowship.
Still another denomination had 7,360,187 members twenty years ago. During
this period 7,484,268 members were received, yet the net membership
now is only 9,910,741. These figures indicate that we are losing
almost as many as we are receiving into membership. This problem
is illustrated by the fact that many local churches drop from the
active membership rolls each year as many as they receive into the fellowship.
Studies of membership trends, even in some areas where population
is expanding, show that numbers of churches have had little net
increase, though many new members were received. Something is wrong when
these things happen. The local "family of God" has failed its
new members through neglect and unconcern for their spiritual welfare.

#BASIC NEEDS#

NEW MEMBERS <can> become participating, growing

members. But this will not happen merely through the natural process
of social life. It must be planned and carefully developed. The
entire membership of the local church must be alerted to their part
in this dynamic process. If the church has followed the plan
of cultivation of prospects and carried through a program of membership
preparation as outlined earlier in this book, the process of assimilation
and growth will be well under way. Those who enter the <front
door> of the church intelligently and with Christian dedication will
not so easily step through the <back door> because of lost interest.

However, it is not enough to bring persons to Christian commitment

and train them in the meaning of Christian discipleship. When
they unite with the Church they must find in this fellowship the satisfaction
of their basic spiritual needs or they will never mature into
effective Christians. The Church expects certain things of
those who become members. The new members justifiably expect some things
from their church family: - Welcome into the fellowship
- Sincere Christian love and understanding - Inspiring
and challenging worship experiences - Social and recreational
activities - Opportunities for Christian service
- Opportunities for study of the Christian faith and the Bible
- Creative prayer experiences - Guidance in Christian
social concerns

MEN need unity and they need God. Care must be taken neither
to confuse unity with uniformity nor God with our parochial ideas
about him, but with these two qualifications, the statement stands.
The statement also points to a classic paradox: The more men turn
toward God, who is not only in himself the paradigm of all unity but
also the only ground on which human unity can ultimately be established,
the more men splinter into groups and set themselves apart from one
another. To be reminded of this we need only glance at the world map
and note the extent to which religious divisions have compounded political
ones, with a resultant fragmentation of the human race. Massacres
attending the partition of India and the establishment of the State
of Israel are simply recent grim evidences of the hostility such
divisions can engender. The words of Cardinal Newman come forcibly
to
mind: "Oh how we hate one another for the love of God"!

The source of this paradox is not difficult to identify. It lies

in institutions. Institutions require structure, form, and definition,
and these in turn entail differentiation and exclusion. A completely
amorphous institution would be a contradiction in terms; to escape
this fate, it must rule some things out. For every criterion which
defines what something is, at the same time proclaims- implicitly if
not openly- what that something is not. Some persons are so sensitive
to this truth as to propose that we do away with institutions altogether;
in the present context this amounts to the advice that while
being religious may have a certain justification, we ought to dispense
with churches. The suggestion is naive. Man is at once a gregarious
animal and a form-creating being. Having once committed himself to
an ideal which he considers worthwhile, he inevitably creates forms
for its expression and institutions for its continuance. To propose that
men be religious without having religious institutions is like proposing
that they be learned without having schools. Both eventualities
are possible logically, but practically they are impossible. As much
as men intrinsically need the unity that is grounded in God, they instrumentally
require the institutions that will direct their steps toward
him. Yet the fact remains that such institutions do set men
at odds with their fellows. Is there any way out of the predicament?
The only way that I can see is through communication. Interfaith
communication need not be regarded as an unfortunate burden visited
upon us by the necessity of maintaining diplomatic relations with our
adversaries. Approached creatively, it is a high art. It is the art
of relating the finite to the infinite, of doing our best to insure that
the particularistic requirements of religious institutions will not
thwart God's intent of unity among men more than is minimally necessary.
In a certain sense, interfaith communication parallels diplomatic
communication among the nation-states. What are the pertinent
facts affecting such communication at the present juncture of history?
I shall touch on three areas: personal, national, and theological.
#/1,#

By personal factors I mean those rooted in personality

structure. Some interfaith tensions are not occasioned by theological
differences at all, but by the need of men to have persons they
can blame, distrust, denounce, and even hate. Such needs may rise
to pathological proportions. Modern psychology has shown that paralleling
"the authoritarian personality" is "the bigoted personality"
in which insecurity, inferiority, suspicion, and distrust combine
to provide a target for antagonism so indispensable that it will be manufactured
if it does not exist naturally. Fortunately the number of
pathological bigots appears to be quite small, but it would be a mistake
to think that more than a matter of degree separates them from the
rest of us. To some extent the personal inadequacies that prejudices
attempt to compensate for are to be found in all of us. Interfaith
conflicts which spring from psychological deficiencies are the most
unfortunate of all, for they have no redeeming features whatsoever.
It is difficult to say what can be done about them except that we must
learn to recognize when it is they, rather than pretexts for them,
that are causing the trouble, and do everything possible to nurture the
healthy personalities that will prevent the development of such deficiencies.
#/2,#

While the personality factors that aggravate interfaith

conflict may be perennial, nationalism is more variable. The
specific instance I have in mind is the Afro-Asian version which
has gained prominence only in this second half of the twentieth century.

Emerging from the two centuries of colonial domination, the

Afro-Asian world is aflame with a nationalism that has undone empires.
No less than twenty-two nations have already achieved independence
since World War /2,, and the number is growing by the year. As
an obvious consequence, obstacles to genuine interfaith communication
have grown more formidable in one important area: relations between
Christians and non-Christians in these lands. Colonialism alone would
have been able to make these difficulties serious, for Christianity
is so closely tied to colonialism in the minds of these people that
repudiation of the one has tended automatically toward the repudiation
of the other. Actually, however, this turns out to be only part of
the picture. Nationalism has abetted not only the repudiation of foreign
religions but the revival of native ones, some of which had been lying
in slumber for centuries. The truth is that any revival of traditional
and indigenous religion will serve to promote that sense of identity
and <Volksgeist> which these young nations very much need. Insofar
as these nations claim to incarnate traditions and ways of life
which constitute ultimate, trans-political justifications for their existence,
such people are inevitably led to emphasize the ways in which
these traditions and ways are <theirs> rather than someone else's.

All this works severely against the kind of cross-cultural

communication for which Christian missions stand. Africans and Asians
tend to consider not only missions but the local churches they have
produced as centers and agents of Western culture and ideology if not
of direct political propaganda. The people hardest hit by this suspicion
are, of course, Christians on the mainland of China. But the
problem extends elsewhere. For example, in Burma and Ceylon many Buddhists
argue that Buddhism ought to be the official state religion.
In 1960 Ceylon nationalized its sectarian- preponderantly Christian-
schools, to the rejoicing of most of its 7,000,000 Buddhists and
the lament of its 800,000 Roman Catholics. Again, India has imposed
formidable barriers against the entrance of additional missionaries,
and fanatical Hindu parties are expected to seek further action against
Christians once the influence making for tolerance due to Nehru
and his followers is gone. The progressive closing of Afro-Asian
ears to the Christian message is epitomized in a conversation
I had three years ago while flying from Jerusalem to Cairo. I was
seated next to the director of the Seventh Day Adventists' world
radio program. He said that on his tour the preceding year a considerable
number of hours would have been available to him on Japanese radio
networks, but that he had then lacked the funds to contract for them.
After returning to the United States and raising the money, he
discovered on getting back to Japan that the hours were no longer available.
It was not that they had been contracted for during the interval;
they simply could no longer be purchased for missionary purposes.
It is not unfair to add on the other side that the crude and almost
vitriolic approach of certain fundamentalist sects toward the cultures
and religions among which they work has contributed measurably to this
heightening of anti-Christian sentiment. Ironically, these are the
groups which have doubled or tripled their missionary efforts since
World War /2,, while the more established denominations are barely
maintaining pre-war staffs. Although I have emphasized the
barriers which an aroused nationalism has raised against relations between
Christians and non-Christians in Asia, the fact is that this development
has also widened the gulf between certain Afro-Asian religions
themselves. The partition of India has hardly improved relations
between Hindus and Muslims; neither has the establishment of the
State of Israel fostered harmony between Muslims and Jews. #/3,#

I turn finally to several theological developments. _1._ <Theocracy

reconsidered>. The modern world has been marked by progressive
disaffection with claims to divine sanction for the state, whatever
its political form. The American Constitution was historic at
this point in providing that "Congress shall make no law respecting
an establishment of religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof".
One of our foremost jurists, David Dudley Field, has gone so
far as to call this provision "the greatest achievement ever made in
the course of human history". The trend throughout the world's
religions has been toward a recognition of at least the practical
validity of this constitutional enactment. Pakistan was created in
1947 expressly as a Muslim state, but when the army took over eleven
years later it did so on a wave of mass impatience which was directed
in part against the inability of political and religious leaders to think
their way through to the meaning of Islam for the modern political
situation. "What is the point", Charles Adams reports the Pakistanis
as asking, "in demanding an Islamic state and society if no
one, not even the doctors of the sacred law themselves, can say clearly
and succinctly what the nature of such a state and society is"?
The current regime of President Mohammad Ayub Khan is determinedly
secular. And while the nation was formerly named "The Islamic
Republic of Pakistan", it is now simply "The Republic of Pakistan".

Comparable trends can be noted elsewhere. The new regime

in Turkey is intentionally less Muslim than its predecessor. The
religious parties in Israel have experienced a great loss of prestige
in recent months. During the years when Israel was passing from
crisis to crisis- the Sinai campaign, the infusion of multitudes of
penniless immigrants- it was felt that the purpose of national unity
could be best served if the secular majority were to yield to the religious
parties. Now that Israel enjoys relative prosperity and a reduction
of tensions, the secularists are less disposed to compromise.
And in this country Gustave Weigel's delineation of the line between
the sacral and secular orders during the last presidential campaign
served to provide a most impressive Roman Catholic defense of the
practical autonomy of both church and state. The failure at that time
of the Puerto Rican bishops to control the votes of their people added
a ring of good sense to Father Weigel's theological argument.
Everywhere there seems to be a growing recognition of the fact that
governments and religious institutions alike are too fallible and corruptible-
in a word, too human- to warrant any claim of maintaining
partnership with the divine. _2._ <Salvation reconsidered>. My
father went as a missionary to China in a generation that responded
to Student Volunteer Movement speakers who held watches in their hands
and announced to the students in their audiences how many Chinese
souls were going to hell each second because these students were not
over there saving them. That mention of this should bring smiles to
our lips today is as clear an indication as we could wish of the extent
to which attitudes have changed. I do not mean to imply that Christians
have adopted the liberal assumption, so prevalent in Hinduism,
that all religions are merely different paths to the same summit. Leslie
Newbiggin reflects the dominant position within the World Council
of Churches when he says, "We must claim absoluteness and finality
for Christ and His finished work, but that very claim forbids
us to claim absoluteness and finality for our understanding of it".
Newbiggin's qualification on the Christian claim is of considerable
significance. The Roman Catholic Church has excommunicated one of
its priests, Father Feeney, for insisting that there is no salvation
outside the visible church. In mentioning this under "salvation
reconsidered" I do not mean to imply that Roman Catholic doctrine
has changed in this area but rather that it has become clearer to the
world community what that doctrine is.
When they say that under no circumstances would it ever be right to "permit"
the termination of the human race by human action, because
there could not possibly be any proportionate grave reason to justify
such a thing, they know exactly what they mean. Of course, in prudential
calculation, in balancing the good directly intended and done against
the evil unintended and indirectly done, no greater precision can
be forthcoming than the subject allows. Yet it seems clear that there
can be no good sufficiently great, or evil repelled sufficiently grave,
to warrant the destruction of mankind by man's own action.

I mean, however, that the moral theologian knows what he means by "permit".
He is not talking in the main about probabilities, risks
and danger in general. He is talking about an action which just as efficaciously
does an evil thing (and is known certainly and unavoidably
to lead to this evil result) as it efficaciously does some good. He
is talking about double <effects,> of which the specific action causes
directly the one and indirectly the other, but <causes> both;
of which one is deliberately willed or intended and the other not intended
or not directly intended, but still both are <done,> while the
evil effect is, with equal consciousness on the part of the agent, foreknown
to be among the consequences. This is what, in a technical sense,
to "only permit" an evil result means. It means to <do it>
and to know one is doing it, but as only a secondary if certain effect
of the good one primarily does and intends. Of course, grave guiltiness
may be imputed to the military action of any nation, or to the action
of any leader or leaders, which for any supposed good "permits",
in <this> sense, the termination of the human race by human action.
Certainly, in analyzing an action which truly faced such alternatives,
"it is <never> possible that no world would be preferable to
some worlds, and there are in truth <no> circumstances in which the
destruction of human life presents itself as a reasonable alternative".
Naturally, where one or the other of the effects of an action
is uncertain, this has to be taken into account. Especially is this
true when, because the good effect is remote and speculative while
the evil is certain and grave, the action is prohibited. Presumably,
if the reverse is the case and the good effect is more certain than the
evil result that may be forthcoming, not only must the good and the
evil be prudentially weighed and found proportionate, but also calculation
of the probabilities and of the degree of certainty or uncertainty
in the good or evil effect must be taken into account. There must
not only be greater good than evil objectively in view, but also greater
probability of actually doing more good than harm. If an evil which
is certain and extensive and immediate may rarely be compensated for
by a problematic, speculative, future good, by the same token not every
present, certain, and immediate good (or lesser evil) that may have
to be done will be outweighed by a problematic, speculative, and future
evil. Nevertheless, according to the traditional theory, a man begins
in the midst of action and he analyzes its nature and immediate cosequences
before or while putting it forth and causing these consequences.
He does not expect to be able to trammel up all the future consequences
of his action. Above all, he does not debate mere contingencies,
and therefore, if these are possibly dreadful, find himself forced
into inaction. He does what he can and may and must, without regarding
himself as lord of the future or, on the other hand, as covered with
guilt by accident or unforeseen consequences or by results he did not
"permit" in the sense explained. By contrast, a good deal of nuclear
pacifism begins with the contingencies and the probabilities, and
not with the moral nature of the action to be done; and by deriving
legitimate decision backward from whatever may <conceivably> or possibly
or probably result, whether by anyone's doing or by accident,
it finds itself driven to inaction, to non-political action in politics
and non-military action in military affairs, and to the not very surprising
discovery that there are now no distinctions on which the defense
of justice can possibly be based. Mr& Philip Toynbee
writes, for example, that "in terms of probability it is surely <as
likely as not> that mutual fear will lead to accidental war in the near
future <if the present situation continues>. If it continues indefinitely
it is <nearly a statistical certainty> that a mistake will
be made and that the devastation will begin". Against such a termination
of human life on earth by human action, he then proposes as an
alternative that we "negotiate at once with the Russians and get the
best terms which are available", that we deliberately "negotiate
from comparative weakness". He bravely attempts to face this alternative
realistically, i&e&, by considering the worst possible outcome,
namely, the total domination of the world by Russia within a few
years. This would be by far the better choice, when "it is a question
of <allowing> the human race to survive, possibly under the domination
of a regime which most of us detest, or of <allowing> it to
destroy itself in appalling and prolonged anguish". Nevertheless, the
consequence of the policy proposed is everywhere subtly qualified:
it is "a possible result, however improbable"; "the worst, and
least probable" result; "if it didn't prevail <mankind> would
still be given the opportunity of prevailing"; for "surely
anything is better than a policy which allows for the <possibility>
of nuclear war". If we have not thought and made a decision entirely
in these terms, then we need to submit ourselves to the following
"simple test": "Have we decided how we are to kill the other
members of our household in the event of our being less injured than
they are"? Thus, moral decision must be entirely deduced backward
from the likely eventuality; it is no longer to be formulated in terms
of the nature of present action itself, its intention, and proximate
effect or the thing to be <done>. Several of the replies
to Mr& Toynbee, without conscious resort to the traditional terminology
with regard to the permission of evil, succeed in restoring the
actual context in which present moral and political decisions must be
made, by distinguishing between choosing a great evil and choosing in
danger of this evil. "It is worse for a nation to give in to evil
**h than to run the risk of annihilation". "I am consciously prepared
to run the continued risk of 'race suicide by accident' rather
than accept the alternative certainty of race slavery by design. But
I can only make this choice because I believe that the risk need
not increase, but may be deliberately reduced" [by precautions against
accidents or by limiting war?] "Quoting Mr& Kennan's
phrase that anything would be better than a policy which led inevitably
to nuclear war, he [Toynbee] says that anything is better than a
policy which allows for the <possibility> of nuclear war". "If
asked to choose between a terrible probability and a more terrible possibility,
most men will choose the latter". "If **h Philip Toynbee
is claiming that the choice lies between capitulation and the <risk>
of nuclear war, I think he is right. I do not accept that the choice
is between capitulation and the certainty of nuclear war". Even
Professor Arnold Toynbee, agreeing with his son, does so in these
terms: "Compared to continuing to incur a constant <risk> of
the destruction of the human race, all other evils are lesser evils **h.
Let us therefore put first things first, and make sure of preserving
the human race at whatever the temporary price may be". Mr&
Philip Toynbee affirms at one point that <if> he shared the
anticipations of Orwell in <Nineteen Eighty-Four, if> he believed
Communism was not only evil but "also <irredeemably> evil", then
he might "think it right to do anything rather than to take the
risk of a communist world. Even a nuclear holocaust is a little less
frightful to contemplate than a race of dehumanised humans occupying the
earth until doomsday". No political order or economic system is
so clearly contrary to nature. But one does not have to affirm the existence
of an evil order irredeemable in that sense, or a static order
in which no changes will take place in time, to be able truthfully to
affirm the following fact: there has never been <justitia> imprinted
in social institutions and social relationships except in the context
of some <pax-ordo> preserved by clothed or naked force. On their
way to the Heavenly City the children of God make use of the <pax-ordo>
of the earthly city and acknowledge their share in responsibility
for its preservation. Not to repel injury and uphold and improve
<pax-ordo> means not simply to accept the misshapen order and injustice
that challenges it at the moment, but also to start down the steep
slope along which justice can find no place whereon to stand. Toynbee
seems to think that there is some other way to give justice social
embodiment. "I would far rather die after a Russian occupation of
this country- by some deliberate act of refusal- than die uselessly
by atomisation". Would such an act of refusal be useful? He does
not mean, in fact he addresses himself specifically to reject the
proposition, that "if we took the risk of surrendering, a new generation
in Britain would soon begin to amass its strength in secret in order
to reverse the consequences of that surrender". He wants to be
"brutally frank and say that these rebellions <would> be hopeless-
far, far more hopeless than was the Hungarian revolution of 1956".
This is not a project for regaining the ground for limited war, by
creating a monopoly in one power of the world's arsenal of unlimited
weapons. It is a proposal that justice now be served by means other
than those that have ever preconditioned the search for it, or preconditioned
more positive means for attaining it, in the past. "It is
no good recommending surrender rather than nuclear warfare with the proviso
that surrender could be followed by the effective military resistance
by occupied peoples. Hope for the future **h would lie in the
natural longing of the human race for freedom and the right to develop".
This is to surrender in advance to whatever attack may yet be mounted,
to the very last; it is to stride along the steep slope downward.
The only contrary action, in the future as in the past, runs the
<risk> of war; and, now and in the future unlike in the past, any
attempt to repel injury and to preserve any particular civilized attainment
of mankind or its provisional justice runs some risk of nuclear
warfare and the danger that an effect of it will, by human action, render
this planet less habitable by the human race. That is why it is
so very important that ethical analysis keep clear the problem of decision
as to "permitted" effects, and not draw back in fright from
any conceivable contingency or suffer paralysis of action before possibilities
or probabilities unrelated, or not directly morally related,
to what we can and may and must do as long as human history endures.

Finally, just as no different issues are posed for thoughtful

analysis by the foreshortening of time that may yet pass before the end
of human life on this earth, but only stimulation and alarm to the imagination,
the same thing must be said in connection with the question
of what we may perhaps already be doing, <by human action,> to accelerate
this end. We should not allow the image of an immanent end brought
about indirectly by our own action in the continuing human struggle
for a just endurable order of existence to blind us to the fact that
in some measure accelerating the end of our lease may be one consequence
among others of many other of mankind's thrusts toward we know
not what future.

MUCH MORE than shelter, housing symbolizes social status,

a sense of "belonging", acceptance within a given group or neighborhood,
identification with particular cultural values and social institutions,
feelings of pride and worth, aspirations and hopes basic to
human well-being. For almost one-sixth of the national population discrimination
in the free selection of residence casts a considerable shadow
upon these values assumed as self-evident by most Americans.

Few business groups in recent years have come under heavier pressure
to face these realities than real estate brokers and home builders.
This pressure has urged re-evaluation of the assumptions underlying
their professional ethics; it has sought new sympathy for the human
aspirations of racial minority groups in this country. It is not surprising
that, as spokesman for real estate interests, the National Association
of Real Estate Boards (~NAREB) and its local associations
have sought to limit and often ignore much of this pressure.

How does the local realtor see himself in the context of housing
restrictions based on race, religion or ethnic attachment? What
does he conceive his role to be in this area of social unrest? What
ought to be, what is his potential role as a force for constructive social
change? What social, ethical and theological insights can the
church and university help him bring to bear upon his situation?

Recently, a group of the faculty at Wesleyan University's Public

Affairs Center sought some answers to these questions. Several
New England realtors were invited to participate in a small colloquium
of property lawyers, political scientists, economists, social psychologists,
social ethicists and theologians. Here, in an atmosphere
of forthrightness and mutual criticism, each sought to bring his particular
insights to bear upon the question of discrimination in housing
and the part each man present played in it. For a number of years,
Wesleyan has been drawing varied groups of political and business
leaders into these informal discussions with members of the faculty
and student body, attempting to explore and clarify aspects of their
responsibility for public policy. This article presents our observations
of that session, of the realtors as they saw themselves and as the
faculty and students saw them. Such conversation quickly reveals
an ethically significant ambivalence in the self-images held by most
realtors. Within the membership of this group, as has been found true
of men in other professional or trade associations, the most ready
portrayal of oneself to "the public" is that of a neutral agent simply
serving the interests of a seller or buyer and mediating between
them. Professional responsibility is seen to consist largely in serving
the wishes of the client fairly and in an efficient manner. But as
conversation goes on, particularly among the realtors themselves, another
image emerges, that of considerable power and influence in the community.
Obviously, much more than customer expectation is determining
the realtor's role. Judgments are continually rendered regarding
the potential buyers' income, educational level and above all, racial
extraction; and whether these would qualify them for "congenial",
"happy" relations to other people in certain community areas.

#A NARROW PROFESSIONALISM#

How explicit such factors have been

historically is evident in any chronology of restrictive covenant cases
or in a review of ~NAREB's Code of Ethics Article 34 in
the Code, adopted in 1924, states that "a Realtor should never be
instrumental in introducing into a neighborhood a character of property
or occupancy, members of any race or nationality, or any individuals
whose presence will clearly be detrimental to property values in that
neighborhood". Though the reference to race was stricken by the association
in 1950, being an agent of such "detrimental" influences
still appears as the cardinal sin realtors see themselves committed to
avoid. The rationale for this avoidance was most frequently
expressed in economic terms; all feared the supposed stigma they believed
would inevitably attach to any realtor who openly introduced non-white,
particularly Negro, peoples into all-white, restricted areas.
They would become tagged as men not interested in being purely real
estate "professionals" but agitators for some kind of "cause"
or "reform", and this was no longer to be a "pro". Obviously
what we are confronted with here is the identification of "professional"
with narrow skills and specialization, the effective servicing
of a client, rather than responsiveness to the wider and deeper
meaning and associations of one's work. These men- for the most
part educated in our "best" New England colleges, well established
financially and socially in the community- under kindly but insistent
probing, reveal little or no objective or explicit criteria or data
for their generalizations about the interests and attitudes of the
people they claim to serve, or about the public responses that actually
follow their occasional breach of a "client-service relationship".

This narrow "professionalism" does not even fit the present

realities of their situation, as the pressure of minorities and the
power and respectability of the realtors increase. As our discussion
continued, the inadequacy of the "client relationship" as an interpretation
of their "way of operating" became evident. Realtors
live in their communities as specialists in a given area of work, as
members of social and professional organizations, as citizens and civic
leaders, as church laymen, as university alumni, as newspaper readers,
etc&.
From such communal roles the realtor finds the substance that
shapes his moral understanding. It seems to us that choices exercised
by realtors in moral situations center in at least three areas:
(1) the various ways in which they interpret a particular social
issue; (2) their pattern of involvement in the regular legal and political
processes; and, most pervasively, (3) their interpretation of
who is a "real pro", of what it means to be a professional man in
a technical, fragmented society. (1) Most of the realtors minimized
their own understanding of and role in the racial issue, pleading
that they only reflect the attitudes and intentions of their society.
There is some reality to this; the Commission on Race and Housing
concluded that "there is no reason to believe that real estate
men are either more or less racially prejudiced, on the whole, than any
other segment of the American population". But such a reaction obscures
the powerful efforts made in the past by both ~NAREB and
its local boards for the maintenance of restrictive clauses and practices.
Also, it does not recognize the elements of choice and judgment
continually employed. Like business and university groups generally,
these men had very limited knowledge of recent sociological and
psychological studies and findings that might illumine the decisions
they make. Realtors, both generally and in this group, have invariably
equated residential integration with a decline in property values,
a circumstance viewed with considerable apprehension. Recent
studies by the Commission on Race and Housing and others, however,
point to a vast complex of factors that often do not warrant this conclusion.
There are increasing numbers of neighborhoods that are integrated
residentially without great loss of property values, the white population
having taken the initiative in preparing the areas for an appreciation
of the Negroes' desire for well-kept housing, privacy, etc&.
Data on the decline of property values in an area after a new racial
group enters it has to be assessed in terms of the trends in property
values before the group comes in. Often they are able to get in
only because the area is declining economically. Significantly,
no realtor and few of the faculty present were familiar with any of
the six volumes (published by the University of California Press)
that present the commission's findings. No one anticipates any radical
shift in this situation, but questions concerning reading habits,
the availability of such data and the places where it is discussed must
surely be raised. The role of both church and university as sources
of information and settings within which the implications of such information
may be explored needs consideration. Relevant "facts",
however,
extend beyond considerations of property values and maintenance
of "harmonious" neighborhoods. Discussion of minority housing necessarily
involves such basic issues as the intensity of one's democratic
conviction and religious belief concerning equality of opportunity,
the function and limitations of government in the securing of such
equality, and the spotlight that world opinion plays upon local incidents
of racial agitation and strife. #"AGAINST THE GRAIN OF CREATION"#
(2) Realtors realize, of course, that they are involved in an
increasingly complex legal and political system that is opening up opportunities
for leverage on their relation to clients as well as opportunities
for evasion of their responsibility for racial discrimination
in housing. On the positive side, recent Federal action has largely
undermined the legal sanction so long enjoyed by the segregationist position;
anti-discriminatory statutes in housing have now been adopted
by thirteen states and, while specific provisions have varied, the
tendency is clearly toward expanding coverage. Realtors in attendance
at the colloquium expressed interest, for example, in Connecticut's
new housing law as setting standards of equity that they would
like "to have to obey", but in support of which none had been willing
to go on public record. As far as they were aware, the Connecticut
Association of Real Estate Boards had not officially opposed
the bill's passage or lobbied in its support. (This has not been the
case everywhere. In 1957, the Real Estate Boards of New York City
actively opposed the then pending private housing anti-discrimination
law. Official reasoning: the bill was a "wanton invasion
of basic property rights".) There are sins of omission as
well as commission; the attitude adopted by realtors and their associations,
either negative or positive, plays a large part in the public
acceptance of such measures and the degree to which they may be effectively
enforced. Judicial opinion since the Supreme Court decision
on <Shelley v& Kraemer> (1948) has rendered racial restrictive
covenants unenforcible. Such a decision should have placed a powerful
weapon in the hands of the entire housing industry, but there is little
evidence that realtors, or at least their associations, have repudiated
the principle in such clauses. In the states that have passed
laws preventing discrimination in the sale or rental of housing,
support by real estate associations for compliance and broadened coverage
through additional legislation could help remove the label of "social
reformism" that most realtors individually seem determined to
avoid. But as yet, no real estate board has been willing officially
to support such laws or to admit the permissibility of introducing minority
buyers into all-white neighborhoods. One of the roles of
the social scientist, ethicist or theologian in our discussions with
the realtors became that of encouraging greater awareness of the opportunities
offered by the legal and political processes for the exercise
of broad social responsibilities in their work. But responsiveness to
these opportunities presumes that all of us judge the good as a human
good and not simply as a professional, white, American good. Such
judgments are meaningful only
in so far as persons are members of a world,
let us say a community, that embraces Scarsdale or Yonkers, but is
also infinitely richer since it is all-inclusive. That community
of all creation is, then, the ultimate object of our loyalty and
the concrete norm of all moral judgment. Racial discrimination is wrong,
then, not because it goes against the grain of a faculty member trying
to converse with a few realtors but because it goes against the
grain of creation and against the will of the Creator. Thus, moral issues
concerning the nature of the legal and political processes take
on theological dimensions.

#A FRAGMENTED SOCIETY#

(3) Over the years,

individuals engaged in the sale of real estate have developed remarkable
unity in the methods and practices employed. Most realtors and
real estate brokers talk of themselves as "professional people"
with the cultural and moral values held by the traditional professions.
But what significance attaches to "professional", beyond the narrow
sense of skillfulness in meeting a client's stated needs as already
noted? Our faculty and students pressed this issue more than
any other. As a theologian in the group pointed out, a professional
was, before the modern period of technical specialization, one who
"professed" to be a bearer and critic of his culture in the use
of his particular skills.

If we look about the world today, we can see clearly that there
are two especially significant factors shaping the future of our civilization:
<science> and <religion>. Science is placing in our
hands the ultimate power of the universe, the power of the atom. Religion,
or the lack of it, will decide whether we use this power to build
a brave new world of peace and abundance for all mankind, or whether
we misuse this power to leave a world utterly destroyed. How can we
have the wisdom to meet such a new and difficult challenge? We
may feel pessimistic at the outlook. And yet there is a note of
hope,
because this same science that is giving us the power of the atom is
also giving us atomic vision. We are looking inside the atom and seeing
there a universe which is not material but something beyond the material,
a universe that in a word is not matter but music. And it is
in this new vision of the atom that we find an affirmation and an invigoration
of our faith.

#ATOMIC ENERGY#

To see this vision in perspective,

we need first of all a clear idea of the magnitude of this new
power from the atom. You know that I could hold right here in my
hand the little chunk of uranium metal that was the heart of the bomb
that dropped on Hiroshima. It was only about the size of a baseball;
but packed in that metallic ball there was the explosive force of
20,000 tons of ~TNT. That is enough ~TNT to fill the tower
of the Empire State Building; and with the availability of bombs
of that size, war became a new problem. Now we might have restricted
the use of uranium bombs by controlling the sources of uranium
because it is found in only a few places in the world. But we had hardly
started to adjust our thinking to this new uranium weapon when we
were faced with the hydrogen bomb. Hydrogen is just as plentiful as
uranium is scarce. We know that we have hydrogen in water; water is
**f and the ~H stands for hydrogen; there is also hydrogen in wood
and hydrogen in our bodies. I have calculated that if I could snap
my fingers in one magic gesture to release the power of all the hydrogen
in my body, I would explode with the force of a hundred bombs of
the kind that fell on Hiroshima. I won't try the experiment, but
I think you can see that if we all knew the secret and we could all let
ourselves go, there would be quite an explosion. And then think how
little hydrogen we have in us compared with the hydrogen in Delaware
Bay or in the ocean beyond. Salt water is still **f, the same hydrogen
is there. And the size of the ocean shows us the magnitude of the
destructive power we hold in our hands today. Of course, there
is also an optimistic side to the picture. For if I knew the secret
of letting this power in my body change directly into electricity,
I could rent myself out to the electric companies and with just the power
in my body I could light all the lights and run all the factories
in the entire United States for some days. And think, if we all knew
this secret and we could pool our power, what a wonderful public utility
company we would make. With just the hydrogen of our bodies, we
could run the world for years. Then think of Delaware Bay and the
ocean and you see that we have a supply of power for millions of years
to come. It is power with which we can literally rebuild the world,
provide adequate housing, food, education, abundant living for everyone
everywhere.

#AN OCTILLION ATOMS#

Now let us see where this power

comes from. To grasp our new view of the atom, we have to appreciate
first of all how small the atom is. I have been trying to make this
clear to my own class in chemistry. One night there were some dried
peas lying on our kitchen table, and these peas looked to me like a little
group of atoms; and I asked myself a question: Suppose I
had the same number of peas as there are atoms in my body, how large an
area would they cover? I calculated first that there are
about an octillion atoms in the average human body; that is a figure
one with 27 ciphers, quite a large number. Then I calculated that a
million peas would just about fill a household refrigerator; a billion
peas would fill a small house from cellar to attic; a trillion peas
would fill all the houses in a town of about ten thousand people;
and a quadrillion peas would fill all the buildings in the city of Philadelphia.

I saw that I would soon run out of buildings at

this rate, so I decided to take another measure- the whole state of
Pennsylvania. Imagine that there is a blizzard over Pennsylvania,
but instead of snowing snow, it snows peas; so we get the whole state
covered with peas, about four feet deep. You can imagine what it would
look like going out on the turnpike with the peas banked up against
the houses and covering the cars; Pennsylvania thus blanketed would
contain about a quintillion peas. But we still have a long
way to go. Next we imagine our blizzard raging over all the land areas
of the entire globe- North America, South America, Europe, Asia,
and Africa, all covered with peas four feet deep; then we have
sextillion peas. Next we freeze over the oceans and cover the whole
earth with peas, then we go out among the neighboring stars, collect
250 planets each the size of the earth, and also cover each of these
with peas four feet deep; and then we have septillion. Finally we
go into the farthest reaches of the Milky Way; we get 250,000 planets;
we cover each of these with our blanket of peas and then at last
we have octillion peas corresponding in number to the atoms in the body.
So you see how small an atom is and how complicated you are.

#A
SPECK- AND SPACE#

Now although an atom is small, we can still in

imagination have a look at it. Let us focus on an atom of calcium from
the tip of the bone of my finger and let us suppose that I swallow
a magic <Alice in Wonderland> growing pill. I start growing rapidly
and this calcium atom grows along with me. I shoot up through the
roof, into the sky, past the clouds, through the stratosphere, out beyond
the moon, out among the planets, until I am over a hundred and
fifty million miles long. Then this atom of calcium will swell to something
like a great balloon a hundred yards across, a balloon big enough
to put a football field inside. And if you should step inside of such
a magnified atom, according to the physics of forty years ago, you
would see circulating over your head, down at the sides, and under your
feet, some twenty luminous balls about the size of footballs. These
balls are moving in great circles and ellipses, and are of course, the
electrons, the particles of negative electricity which by their action
create the forces that tie this atom of calcium to the neighboring
atoms of oxygen and make up the solid structure of my finger bone.
Since these electrons are moving like planets, you may wonder whether
there is an atomic sun at the center of the atom. So you look down
there and you see a tiny, whirling point about the size of the head
of a pin. This is the atomic sun, the atomic nucleus. Even if the
atom were big enough to hold a football field, this nucleus is still
only about the size of a pinhead. It is this atomic nucleus that contains
the positive charge of electricity holding these negatively charged
electrons in their orbits; it also contains nearly all the mass,
and the atomic energy. You may ask what else there is, and the
answer is nothing- nothing but empty space. And since you are made
of atoms, you are nothing much but empty space, too. If I could put
your body in an imaginary atomic press and squeeze you down, squeeze
these holes out of you in the way we squeeze the holes out of a sponge,
you would get smaller and smaller until finally when the last hole
was gone, you would be smaller than the smallest speck of dust that you
could see on this piece of paper. Someone has remarked that this is
certainly the ultimate in reducing. At any rate, it shows us how immaterial
we are.

#MUSIC OF THE SPHERES#

Now this 1920 view of the

atom was on the whole a discouraging picture. For we believed that the
electrons
obeyed the law of mechanics and electrodynamics; and therefore
the atom was really just a little machine; and in mechanics the
whole is no more than the sum of the parts. So if you are made of
atoms, you are just a big machine; and since the universe is also made
of atoms, it is just a supermachine. And this would mean that we
live in a mechanistic universe, governed by the laws of cause and effect,
bound in chains of determinism that hold the universe on a completely
predetermined course in which there is not room for soul or spirit
or human freedom. And this is why so many scientists a half a century
ago were agnostics or atheists. Then came the scientific revolution
in the late 1920's. A suggestion from Louis de Broglie, a
physicist in France, showed us that these electrons are not point particles
but waves. And to see the meaning of this new picture, imagine
that you can put on more powerful glasses and go back inside the atom
and have a look at it in the way we view it today. Now as you step
inside, instead of seeing particles orbiting around like planets, you
see waves and ripples very much like the ripples that you get on the surface
of a pond when you drop a stone into it. These ripples spread
out in symmetrical patterns like the rose windows of a great cathedral.
And as the waves flow back and forth and merge with the waves from
the neighboring atoms, you can put on a magic hearing aid and you hear
music. It is a music like the music from a great organ or a vast orchestra
playing a symphony. Harmony, melody, counterpoint symphonic structure
are there; and as this music ebbs and flows, there is an antiphonal
chorus from all the atoms outside, in fact from the atoms of
the entire universe. And so today when we examine the structure of our
knowledge of the atom and of the universe, we are forced to conclude
that the best word to describe our universe is <music>.

The Island of Nantucket, part of the State of Massachusetts,

lies about thirty-one miles southeast of its mother State. Some of
the Island is sand and is not suitable for living. The Island folk
have their living almost entirely from summer visitors; the rest is
obtained from harbor scallops. During about three and a half months
of the year, in the summer, there are three boats that run from the mainland
to the Island carrying passengers, food, and cars; but the
rest of the year only one boat is needed, which ties up at the mainland
nights and makes the trip down to Nantucket in the daytime. This
is a fine trip, too, on a good day. With Martha's Vineyard on one
side and the open sea on the other, it makes an excellent trip of about
three hours.

TO WHAT extent and in what ways did Christianity affect

the United States of America in the nineteenth century? How far
and in what fashion did it modify the new nation which was emerging
in the midst of the forces shaping the revolutionary age? To what
extent did it mould the morals and the social, economic, and political
life and institutions of the country? A complete picture is
impossible- partly because of the limitations of space, partly because
for millions of individuals who professed allegiance to the Christian
faith data are unobtainable. Even more of an obstacle is the difficulty
of separating the influence of Christianity from other factors.

Although a complete picture cannot be given, we can indicate

some aspects of life into which the Christian faith entered as at
least one creative factor. At times we can say that it was the major
factor. What in some ways was the most important aspect was the
impact individually on the millions who constituted the nation. As
we have seen, a growing proportion, although in 1914 still a minority,
were members of churches. Presumably those who did not have a formal
church connexion had also felt the influence of Christianity to a greater
or less extent. Many of them had once been members of a church
or at least had been given instruction in Christianity but for one or
another reason had allowed the connexion to lapse. The form of Christianity
to which they were exposed was for some the Protestantism of
the older stock, for others the Protestantism of the nineteenth-century
immigration; for still others, mostly of the nineteenth-century
immigration, it was Roman Catholicism, and for a small minority it was
Eastern Orthodoxy. Upon all of them played the intellectual, social,
political, and economic attitudes, institutions, and customs of the
nation. Upon most of these Christianity had left an impress and through
them had had a share in making the individual what he was. Yet
to determine precisely to what extent and exactly in what ways any individual
showed the effects of Christianity would be impossible. At
best only an approximation could be arrived at. To generalize for the
entire nation would be absurd. For instance, we cannot know whether
even for church members the degree of conformity to Christian standards
of morality increased or declined as the proportion of church members
in the population rose. The temptation is to say that, as the percentage
of church members mounted, the degree of discipline exercised
by the churches lessened and the trend was towards conformity to the general
level. Yet this cannot be proved. We know that in the early part
of the century many Protestant congregations took positive action
against members who transgressed the ethical codes to which the majority
subscribed. Thus Baptist churches on the frontier took cognizance
of charges against their members of drunkenness, fighting, malicious
gossip, lying, cheating, sexual irregularities, gambling, horse racing,
and failure to pay just debts. If guilty, the offender might be excluded
from membership. As church membership burgeoned, such measures
faded into desuetude. But whether this was accompanied by a general
lowering of the moral life of the membership we do not know. What
we can attempt with some hope of dependable conclusions is to point
out the manner in which Christianity entered into particular aspects
of the life of the nation. We have already hinted at the fashion in
which Christianity contributed to education and so to intellectual life.
We will now speak of the ways in which it helped shape the ideals
of the country and of the manner in which it stimulated efforts to attain
those ideals through reform movements, through programmes for bringing
the collective life to the nation to conformity to Christian standards,
and through leaders in the government. Throughout the
nineteenth century Christianity exerted its influence on American
society as a whole primarily through the Protestantism of the older stock.
By the end of the century the Roman Catholic Church was beginning
to make itself felt, mainly through such institutions as hospitals
but also through its attitude towards organized labour. In the twentieth
century its influence grew, as did that of the Protestantism of
the nineteenth-century immigration.

#THE AMERICAN DREAM#

The ideals
of the country were deeply indebted to the Protestantism of the
older stock. Thus "America", the most widely sung of the patriotic
songs, was written by a New England Baptist clergyman, Samuel Francis
Smith (1808-1895), while a student in Andover Theological
Seminary. With its zeal for liberty and its dependence on God it
breathed the spirit which had been nourished on the Evangelical revivals.
The great seal of the United States was obviously inspired by
the Christian faith. Here was what was called the American dream, namely,
the effort to build a structure which would be something new in
history and to do so in such fashion that God could bless it. Later
in the century the dream again found expression in the lines of Katherine
Lee Bates (1859-1929), daughter and granddaughter of New England
Congregational ministers, in her widely sung hymn, written in
1893, "America the Beautiful", with the words "O beautiful
for pilgrim feet whose stern impassioned stress a thoroughfare for freedom
beat across the wilderness. America, America, God mend
thy every flaw, confirm thy soul in self control, thy liberty in law
**h. O beautiful for patriot dream that sees beyond the years thine
alabaster cities gleam undimmed by human tears. America, America,
God shed His grace on thee, and crown thy good with brotherhood from
sea to shining sea". The American dream was compounded of
many strains. Some were clearly of Christian origin, among them the
Great Awakening and other revivals which helped to make Christian
liberty, Christian equality, and Christian fraternity the passion of
the land. Some have seen revivalism and the search for Christian perfection
as the fountain-head of the American hope. Here, too, must
be placed Unitarianism and, less obviously from Christian inspiration,
Emerson, Transcendentalism, and the idealism of Walt Whitman. We
must also remember those who reacted against the dream as a kind of
myth- among them Melville, Hawthorne, and Henry James the elder,
all of them out of a Christian background.

#REFORM MOVEMENTS#

With
such a dream arising, at least in part, from the Protestant heritage
of the United States and built into the foundations of the nation,
it is not surprising that many efforts were made to give it concrete
expression. A number were in the nature of movements to relieve or
remove social ills. Significantly, the initiation and leadership
of a major proportion of the reform movements, especially those in
the first half of the nineteenth century, came from men and women of
New England birth or parentage and from either Trinitarian or Unitarian
Congregationalism. Several of the movements were given a marked
impetus by revivalism. Quakers, some from New England, had a larger
share than their proportionate numerical strength would have warranted.
We do well to remind ourselves that from men and women of New England
ancestry also issued the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter
Day Saints, the Seventh Day Adventists, Christian Science, the
American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, the American
Home Missionary Society, the American Bible Society, and New
England theology. The atmosphere was one of optimism, of confidence
in human progress, and of a determination to rid the world of its ills.
The Hopkinsian universal disinterested benevolence, although holding
to original sin and the doctrine of election, inspired its adherents
to heroic endeavours for others, looked for the early coming of the
Millennium, and was paralleled by the confidence in man's ability
cherished by the Unitarians, Emerson, and the Transcendentalists.

We should recall the number of movements for the service of mankind

which arose from the kindred Evangelicalism of the British Isles
and the Pietism of the Continent of Europe- among them prison
reform, anti-slavery measures, legislation for the alleviation of conditions
of labour, the Inner Mission, and the Red Cross. We
cannot take the space to record all the efforts for the removal or alleviation
of collective ills. A few of the more prominent must serve
as examples of what a complete listing and description would disclose.
Several were born in the early decades and persisted throughout the
century. Others were ephemeral. Some disappeared with the attainment
of their purpose. Still others sprang up late in the century to meet
conditions which arose from fresh stages of the revolutionary age.

#THE
ANTI-SLAVERY MOVEMENT#

The movement to end Negro slavery began

before 1815 and mounted after that year until, as a result of the Civil
War, emancipation was achieved. Long before 1815 the Christian
conscience was leading some to declare slavery wrong and to act
accordingly. For example, in 1693 the Philadelphia Yearly Meeting
of Friends declared that its members should emancipate their slaves
and in 1776 it determined to exclude from membership all who did not
comply. In the latter year Samuel Hopkins, from whom the Hopkinsian
strain of New England theology took its name, asked the Continental
Congress to abolish slavery. As we have seen, Methodism early took
a stand against slavery. Beginning at least as far back as 1789 various
Baptist bodies condemned slavery. After 1815 anti-slavery
sentiment mounted, chiefly among Protestants and those of Protestant
background of the older stock. The nineteenth-century immigration,
whether Protestant or Roman Catholic, was not so much concerned,
for very few if any among them held slaves: they were mostly in the
Northern states where slavery had disappeared or was on the way out,
or were too poverty-stricken to own slaves. The anti-slavery movement
took many forms. Benjamin Lundy (1789-1839), a Quaker, was
a pioneer in preparing the way for anti-slavery societies. It was
he who turned the attention of William Lloyd Garrison (1805-1879)
to the subject. Garrison, Massachusetts born of Nova Scotian parentage,
was by temperament and conviction a reformer. Chiefly remembered
because of his incessant advocacy of "immediate and unconditional
abolition", he also espoused a great variety of other causes- among
them women's rights, prohibition, and justice to the Indians. Incurably
optimistic, dogmatic, and utterly fearless, in his youth a devout
Baptist, in spite of his friendship for the Quaker poet John
Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892) he eventually attacked the orthodox
churches for what he deemed their cowardly compromising on the slavery
issue and in his invariably ardent manner was emphatically unorthodox
and denied the plenary inspiration of the Bible. A marked
impulse came to the anti-slavery movement through the Finney revivals.
Finney himself, while opposed to slavery, placed his chief emphasis
on evangelism, but from his converts issued much of the leadership of
the anti-slavery campaign. Theodore Dwight Weld (1803-1895) was
especially active. Weld was the son and grandson of New England Congregational
ministers. As a youth he became one of Finney's band
of evangelists and gave himself to winning young men. A strong temperance
advocate, through the influence of a favorite teacher, Charles
Stewart, another Finney convert, he devoted himself to the anti-slavery
cause. A group of young men influenced by him enrolled in Lane Theological
Seminary and had to leave because of their open anti-slavery
position. The majority then went to the infant Oberlin. They and
others employed some of Finney's techniques as they sought to win
adherents to the cause. Weld contributed to the anti-slavery convictions
of such men as Joshua R& Giddings and Edwin M& Stanton,
enlisted John Quincy Adams, and helped provide ideas which underlay
Harriet Beecher Stowe's <Uncle Tom's Cabin>. He shunned
publicity for himself and sought to avoid fame. Wendell Phillips
(1811-1884), from a prominent Massachusetts family, in his teens
was converted under the preaching of Lyman Beecher. Although he
later broke with the churches because he believed that they were insufficiently
outspoken against social evils, he remained a devout Christian.
He was remembered chiefly for his fearless advocacy of abolition,
but he also stood for equal rights for women, for opportunity for the
freedmen, and for prohibition. The anti-slavery movement and
other contemporary reforms and philanthropies were given leadership
and financial undergirding by Arthur Tappan (1786-1865) and his younger
brother, Lewis Tappan (1788-1873).

Individuals possessing unusual gifts and great personal power

were transmuted at death into awesome spirits; they were almost immediately
worshipped for these newer, even more terrible abilities. Their
direct descendants inherited not only their worldly fortunes, but also
the mandate of their newfound power as spirits in the other half of
the universe. Royal lineages could be based on extraordinary worldly
achievements translated into eternal otherworldly power. Thus,
the emperor could draw on sources not available to those with less
puissant ancestors. But this eminence was not without its weighty
responsibilities.
Since he possessed more power in an interdependent universe
of living beings and dead spirits, the emperor had to use it for
the benefit of the living. The royal ritual generated power into the
other world: it also provided the living with a way to control the
spirits, and bring their powers directly to bear on the everyday affairs
of the world. Proper ritual observance at any level of society was
capable of generating power for use in the spirit world; but naturally,
the royal ritual, which provided unusual control over already supremely
powerful divine spirits, was held responsible for regulating the
universe and insuring the welfare of the kingdom. This is the
familiar system of "cosmic government". The Chinese emperor, by
proper observance of ritual, manifested divine powers. He regulated
the dualities of light and darkness, <Yang> and <Yin>, which are
locked in eternal struggle. By swaying the balance between them, he
effected the alternation of the seasons. His power was so great that
he even promoted and demoted gods according to whether they had given
ear or been deaf to petitions. In this system, no man is exempt
from obligations. Failure in daily moral and ethical duties to one's
family, outrages to community propriety, any departure from rigid
standards of moral excellence were offenses against the dead. And to
offend the dead meant to incur their wrath, and thus provoke the unleashing
of countrywide disasters. The family home was, in fact, a temple;
and the daily duties of individuals were basically religious in
nature. The dead spirits occupied a prominent place in every hope and
in every fear. The common belief was that there existed one
moral order, which included everything. The dead controlled the material
prosperity of the living, and the living adhered to strict codes of
conduct in order not to weaken that control. Men believed they could
control nature by obeying a moral code. If the moral code were flouted,
the proper balance of the universe would be upset, and the disastrous
result could be floods, plague, or famine. Modern Westerners
have difficulty comprehending this fusion of moral and material,
largely because in the West the historical trend has been to deny the
connection. Living in urban conditions, away from the deadweight of
village constraint and the constrictions of a thatched-roof world view,
the individual may find it possible, say, to commit adultery not only
without personal misgivings, but also without suffering any adverse
effects in his worldly fortunes. Basing action on the empirical determination
of cause and effect provides a toughness and bravado that no
powerful otherworldly ancestor could ever impart- plus the added liberation
from the constraint of silent burial urns. In China,
the magical system par excellence was Taoism. The Taoists were Quietist
mystics, who saw an unchanging unity- the Tao- underlying
all phenomena. It was this timeless unity that was all-important, and
not its temporary manifestations in the world of reality. The Taoists
believed the unity could be influenced by proper magical manipulation;
in other words, they were actually an organization of magicians.

Mahayana Buddhism was no exception to these prevailing magical

concepts. After this form of Indian Buddhism had been introduced
into China, it underwent extensive changes. During its flowering in
the sixth to the eighth centuries, Mahayana offered a supernatural package
to the Chinese which bears no resemblance to the highly digested
philosophical Zen morsels offered to the modern Western reader. Mahayana
had gods, and magic, a pantheon, heavens and hells, and gorgeously
appareled priests, monks, and nuns, all of whom wielded power over
souls in the other world. The self-realized Mahayana saint possessed
superhuman powers and magic. The Mahayana that developed in the
north was a religion of idolatry and coarse magic, that made the world
into a huge magical garden. In its monastic form, Mahayana was merely
an organization of magic-practicing monks (<bonzes>), who catered
to the Chinese faith in the supernatural. Nonmagical Confucianism
was a secular, rational philosophy, but even with this different
orientation it could not escape from the ethos of a cosmic government.
Confucianism had its own magic in the idea that virtue had power.
If a man lived a classical life, he need not fear the spirits- for
only lack of virtue gave the spirits power over him. But let us not be
mistaken about Confucian "virtue"; this was not virtue as we
understand the word today, and it did not mean an abandonment of the belief
in magic manipulation. To the Confucian, "virtue" simply meant
mastery and correct observance of three hundred major rules of ritual
and three thousand minor ones. Propriety was synonymous with ritual
observance, the mark of a true gentleman. To live correctly in an
interdependent moral and material universe of living and dead was decisive
for man's fate. This, in brief, was the historical background
out of which Zen emerged. Promoters of Zen to the West record
its ancestry, and recognize that Zen grew out of a combination of
Taoism and Indian Mahayana Buddhism. But the "marvelous person"
that is supposed to result from Zen exhibits more Chinese practicality
than Indian speculation- he possesses magical powers, and can
use them to order nature and to redeem souls. Proponents of Zen to
the West emphasize disproportionately the amount of Mahayana Buddhism
in Zen, probably in order to dignify the indisputably magical Taoist
ideas with more respectable Buddhist metaphysic. But in the Chinese
mind, there was little difference between the two- the <bonzes>
were no more metaphysical than a magician has to be. Actually,
Zen owes more to Chinese Quietism than it does to Mahayana Buddhism.
The Ch'an (Zen) sect may have derived its metaphysic from
Mahayana, but its psychology was pure early Taoist. This is well
evidenced
by the Quietist doctrines carried over in Zen: the idea of
the inward turning of thought, the enjoinder to put aside desires and
perturbations so that a return to purity, peace, and stillness- a
union with the Infinite, with the Tao- could be effected. In fact,
the antipathy to outward ceremonies hailed by modern exponents as so
uniquely characteristic of the "direct thinking" Zennist was a feature
of Taoism. So, too, was the insistence on the relativity of the
external world, and the ideas that language and things perceived by
consciousness were poor substitutes indeed for immediate perception by
pure, indwelling spirit: the opposition of pure consciousness to ratiocinating
consciousness. Zen maintains that cognitive things
are only the surface of experience. One of its features attractive
to the West is its irreverence for tradition and dogma and for sacred
texts. One patriarch is supposed to have relegated sacred scriptures
for use in an outhouse. But this is not the spirit of self-reliant freedom
of action for which the Westerner mistakes it. It is simply that
in Taoist tradition- as in all good mysticisms- books, words,
or any other manifestations that belong to the normal state of consciousness
are considered only the surface of experience. The truth- the
Eternal Truth- is not transmittable by words. Reality is considered
not only irrelevant to the acquisition of higher knowledge, but
a positive handicap. The technique of reality confusion- the use of
paradox and riddles to shake the mind's grip on reality- originated
with fourth and third century B&C& Chinese Quietism: the
<koan> is not basically a new device. It is important for an
understanding of Zen to realize that the esoteric preoccupations of
the select few cannot be the doctrine of the common man. In the supernatural
atmosphere of cosmic government, only the ruling elite was ever
concerned with a kingdom-wide ordering of nature: popular religion
aimed at more personal benefits from magical powers. And this is only
natural- witness the haste with which modern man gobbles the latest
"wonder drug". Early Chinese anchoritism was theoretically aimed
at a mystic pantheist union with the divine, personal salvation being
achieved when the mystical recluse united with divine essence. But
this esoteric doctrine was lost in the shuffle to acquire special powers.
The anchorite strove, in fact, to magically influence the world
of spirits in the same way that the divine emperor manifested his power.
Thus, the Mahayana metaphysic of mystical union for salvation was
distilled down to a bare self-seeking, and for this reason, the mystic
in Asia did not long remain in isolated contemplation. As the Zen
literature reveals, as soon as an early Zen master attained fame in
seclusion, he was called out into the world to exercise his powers.
The early anchorite masters attracted disciples because of their presumed
ability to perform miracles. Exponents of Zen often insist
that very early Zen doctrine opposed the rampant supernaturalism
of China, and proposed instead a more mature, less credulous view of
the universe. In support of this, stories from the early literature are
cited to show that Zen attacks the idea of supernatural power. But
actually these accounts reveal the supernatural powers that the masters
were in fact supposed to possess, as well as the extreme degree of
popular credulity: "Hwang Pah (O baku), one day going up Mount
Tien Tai **h which was believed to have been inhabited by Arhats
with supernatural powers, met with a monk whose eyes emitted strange light.
They went along the pass talking with each other for a short while
until they came to a river roaring with torrent. There being no bridge,
the master had to stop at the shore; but his companion crossed
the river walking on the water and beckoned to Hwang Pah to follow
him. Thereupon Hwang Pah said: "If I knew thou art an Arhat,
I would have doubled you up before thou got over there"! The monk
then understood the spiritual attainment of Hwang Pah, and praised
him as a true Mahayanist. (1)" A second tale shows still
more clearly the kind of powers a truly spiritual monk could possess:
"On one occasion Yang Shan (Kyo-zan) saw a stranger monk flying
through the air. When that monk came down and approached him with a
respectful salutation, he asked: "Where art thou from"? "Early
this morning", replied the other, "I set out from India".
"Why", said the teacher, "art thou so late"? "I stopped",
responded the man, "several times to look at beautiful sceneries".
"Thou mayst have supernatural powers", exclaimed Yang Shan,
"yet thou must give back the Spirit of Buddha to me". Then
the monk praised Yang Shan saying: "I have come over to China
in order to worship Manjucri, and met unexpectedly with Minor Shakya",
and after giving the master some palm leaves he brought from India,
went back through the air. (2)" In the popular Chinese
mind, Ch'an (Zen) was no exception to the ideas of coarse magic that
dominated. A closer look at modern Zen reveals many magical
carryovers that are still part of popular Zen attitudes. To the
Zen monk the universe is still populated with "spiritual beings"
who have to be appeased. Part of the mealtime ritual in the Zendo consists
in offerings of rice to the spiritual beings". Modern Zen presentation
to the West insists on the anti-authoritarian, highly pragmatic
nature of the Zen belief- scriptures are burned to make fire,
action is based on direct self-confidence, and so on. This picture
of extreme self-reliant individuation is difficult to reconcile with such
Zendo formulas as: "O you, demons and other spiritual beings,
I now offer this to you, and may this food fill up the ten quarters
of the world and all the demons and other spiritual beings be fed therewith.
(3)"

Pope Leo /13,, on the 13th day of December 1898, granted

the following indulgences: "An indulgence of three hundred days is
granted to all the Faithful who read the Holy Gospels at least a
quarter of an hour. A Plenary Indulgence under the usual conditions
is granted once a month for the daily reading". Pope Pius the Sixth,
at Rome, in april, 1778, wrote the following: "The faithful
should be excited to the reading of the Holy Scriptures: For these
are the most abundant sources which ought to be left open to everyone,
to draw from them purity of morals and of doctrine, to eradicate
errors which are so widely disseminated in these corrupt times". The
American Bishops assembled at the Third Plenary Council of Baltimore
urged the Catholic people to read the Holy Bible. "We hope",
they said, "that no family can be found amongst us without a
correct version of the Holy Scriptures". They recommended, also,
that "at a fixed hour, let the entire family be assembled for night
prayers, followed by a short reading of the Holy Scriptures".

Since the Catholic Church expresses such desire that the Sacred
Scriptures be read, the following taken from the Holy Bible (New
Catholic Edition) will prove a means of grace and a source of great
spiritual blessing.

#THE NEED OF THE NEW BIRTH#

Do not wonder that

I said to thee, "You must be born again". St& John 3:7.

_THE NEW BIRTH IS NECESSARY BECAUSE GOD IS HOLY._ But as the One
who called you is holy, be you also holy in all your behavior; for
it is written, You shall be holy, because I am holy. /1, St& Peter
1:15, 16. Holiness without which no man will see God.
Hebrews 12:14. _THE NEW BIRTH IS NECESSARY BECAUSE ALL HAVE SINNED._
As it is written, There is not one just man; there is none
who understands; there is none who seeks after God. All have gone
astray together; **h All have sinned and have need of the glory of
God. Romans 3:10-12, 23. _THE NEW BIRTH IS NECESSARY BECAUSE THE
NATURAL MAN IS SPIRITUALLY DEAD AND BLIND._ Therefore as through
one man sin entered into the world and through sin death, and thus death
has passed unto all men because all have sinned. Romans 5:12.

You also, when you were dead by reason of your offenses and sins.
Ephesians 2:1. And if our gospel also is veiled, it is veiled
only to those who are perishing. In their case, the god of this
world [Satan] has blinded their unbelieving minds, that they should
not see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image
of God. /2, Corinthians 4:3, 4. For his workmanship
we are, created in Christ Jesus. Ephesians 2:10. _THE NEW BIRTH
IS EFFECTED THROUGH THE WORD OF GOD_ For you have been reborn,
not from corruptible seed but from incorruptible, through the word of
God. /1, St& Peter 1:23. Of his own will he has begotten
us by the word of truth. St& James 1:18. Amen, amen,
I say to thee, unless a man be born again of water [symbol of the
Word of God, see Ephesians 5:26] and the Spirit, he cannot enter
into the kingdom of God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh;
and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. St& John 3:5,
6.

#EVIDENCES OF THE NEW BIRTH#

_IF WE ARE BORN OF GOD WE HAVE

FAITH IN CHRIST AS THE ONLY SAVIOUR._ Everyone who believes that
Jesus is the Christ is born of God. /1, St& John 5:1.

As many as received him **h were born **h of God. St& John 1:12,
13. _IF WE ARE BORN OF GOD WE DO NOT PRACTICE SIN AS A HABIT._
Whoever is born of God does not commit sin [That is, he does not
practice sin. Cf& /1, St& John 2:1]. /1, St& John 3:9.

We know that no one who is born of God commits sin. /1,

St& John 5:18. [The new nature, received at the time of regeneration,
is divine and holy, and as the believer lives under the power
of this new nature he does not practice sin.] _IF WE ARE BORN OF
GOD WE PRACTICE RIGHTEOUSNESS._ If you know that he [God] is just
[righteous], know that everyone also who does what is just [righteous]
has been born of him. /1, St& John 2:29. _IF WE ARE
BORN OF GOD WE LOVE GOD._ Everyone who loves is born of God, and
knows God. /1, St& John 4:7. _IF WE ARE BORN OF GOD WE LOVE
THE BRETHREN._ We know that we have passed from death to life, because
we love the brethren. He who does not love abides in death. /1,
St& John 3:14. _IF WE ARE BORN OF GOD WE OVERCOME THE WORLD._
All that is born of God overcomes the world; and this is the victory
that overcomes the world, our faith. /1, St& John 5:4.

_IF WE ARE BORN OF GOD WE GROW IN [NOT INTO, BUT IN] GRACE._ But
grow in grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
/2, St& Peter 3:18. _IF WE ARE BORN OF GOD WE PERSEVERE UNTO
THE END._ I am convinced of this, that he who has begun a good work
in you will bring it to perfection until the day of Christ Jesus.
Philippians 1:6. Now to him who is able to preserve you without
sin and to set you before the presence of his glory, without blemish,
in gladness, to the only God our Savior, through Jesus Christ
our Lord, belong glory and majesty, dominion and authority, before
all time, and now, and forever. St& Jude 24. _THE NEW BIRTH IS
NECESSARY BECAUSE THE SPIRITUAL KINGDOM REQUIRES A SPIRITUAL NATURE._
Jesus answered and said to him [Nicodemus] "Amen, amen, I say
to thee, unless a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God".
**h "Amen, amen, I say to thee, unless a man be born again
of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God. That
which is born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of
the Spirit is spirit. Do not wonder that I said to thee, 'You must
be born again'". St& John 3:3, 5-7.

#THE NATURE OF THE

NEW BIRTH#

_THE NEW BIRTH IS A NEW CREATION._ For in Christ Jesus

neither circumcision nor uncircumcision but a new creation is of
any account. Galatians 6:15. If then any man is in Christ,
he is a new creature [literally, "He is a new creation"], the
former things have passed away; behold, they are made new! /2, Corinthians
5:17. For by grace you have been saved through faith;
and that not from yourselves, for it is the gift of God; not
as the outcome of works, lest anyone may boast. For his workmanship
we are, created in Christ Jesus. Ephesians 2:8-10. _THE NEW BIRTH
IS THE IMPLANTATION OF A NEW LIFE._ I came that they may have life.
St& John 10:10. He who has the Son has the life. He
who has not the Son has not the life. /1, St& John 5:12.

He who believes in the Son [Jesus Christ, the Son of God],

has everlasting life. St& John 3:36. _THE NEW BIRTH IS THE
IMPARTATION OF THE DIVINE NATURE._ Through which he has granted us
the very great and precious promises, so that through them you may become
partaker of the divine nature. /2, St& Peter 1:4. _THE NEW
BIRTH IS CHRIST LIVING IN YOU BY FAITH._ Christ in you, your hope
of glory. Colossians 1:27. It is now no longer I that live,
but Christ lives in me. And the life that I now live in the flesh,
I live in the faith of the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself
up for me. Galatians 2:20. To have Christ dwelling through
faith in your hearts. Ephesians 3:17. _THE NEW BIRTH IS MIRACULOUS
AND MYSTERIOUS._ The wind blows where it will, and thou hearest
its sound but dost not know where it comes from or where it goes.
So is everyone who is born of the Spirit. St& John 3:8. _THE
NEW BIRTH IS IMMEDIATE AND INSTANTANEOUS._ Amen, amen, I say to
you, he who hears my word, and believes him who sent me, has life everlasting,
and does not come to judgment, but has passed from death to
life. St& John 5:24.

#THE MEANS OF THE NEW BIRTH#

_THE NEW
BIRTH IS A WORK OF GOD._ But to as many as received him he gave the
power of becoming sons of God; to those who believe in his name:
Who were born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the
will of man, but of God. St& John 1:12, 13.

#A FINAL WORD#

You may be very religious, a good church member, an upright, honest

and sincere person; you may be baptized, confirmed, reverent and worshipful;
you may attend mass, do penance, say prayers and zealously
keep all the sacraments and ceremonies of the church; you may have
the final and extreme unction but if you are not born again you are lost
and headed for hell and eternal punishment. You cannot be saved;
you cannot go to heaven unless you are born again. Our blessed Lord
Jesus Christ, the sinless Son of God, who could not lie, said,
"Amen,
amen, I say to thee, unless a man be born again, he cannot see
the kingdom of God" (St& John 3:3). "You must be born again"
(St& John 3:7). Being convinced that salvation is
alone by accepting Christ as Saviour, and being convicted by the Holy
Spirit of my lost condition, I do repent of all effort to be saved
by any form of good works, and just now receive Jesus as my personal
Saviour and salvation as a free gift from Him.

YOU MAY DO AS YOU

PLEASE with God now. It is permitted. God placed Himself in men's
hands when He sent Jesus Christ into the world as perfect God
and perfect Man in one Being. He was then in man's hands. They
cursed Him. It was permitted. Men spit on Him. God allowed it.
They called Him a devil. God withheld His wrath. Finally men arrested
Him, gave Him a mock trial, flogged Him, nailed Him on a cross
and hung Him between earth and heaven; and God allowed it.

You can do likewise though Christ is not bodily present. You can
ignore Him. You can ignore His Book, the Bible, and His church.
You
can laugh at His blood-bought salvation, curse His followers, and
laugh at hell. It is permitted. The eternal Christ may knock at your
soul's door, calling you to give up sin and prepare for heaven.
You may refuse Him, spit on Him, call Him a devil, curse Him. It
is permitted. You may take His name upon your lips in oaths and curses
if you so choose. He is in your hands- <now>. On the
other hand, you may seek His favor, humble yourself before Him and beg
His mercy, implore His forgiveness, forsake your sins, and abandon
your whole life to Him. He has said, "Behold, I stand at the door,
and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will
come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me" (Revelation
3:20). The choice is up to you. The latch is on your side of the
door. The choice is yours: the revellings and banquetings of this
world or quiet communion with God; the ever burning lusts of the flesh
or the powerful victory of Holy Spirit discipline. The choice is
yours: God is in your hands, <now>. God has already set
the day when <you will be in His hands>. What He does with you <then>
depends on what you do with Him <now>. <Then> it will be
a "fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God" if you
have abused Him in your hands.
I am a magazine; my name is Guideposts; this issue that you are
reading marks my 15th anniversary. When I came into being, 15
years ago, I had one primary purpose: to help men and women everywhere
to know God better, and through knowing Him better to become happier
and more effective people. That purpose has never changed.

When you read me, you are holding in your hands the product of many
minds and hearts. Some of the people who speak through my pages are
famous; others unknown. Some work with their hands. Some have walked
through pain and sorrow to bring you their message of hope. Some
are so filled with gratitude, for the gift of life and the love of God,
that their joy spills out on the paper and brightens the lives of thousands
whom they have never known, and will never see. Fifteen
years ago, there were no Guideposts at all. This month a million
Guideposts will circulate all over the world. Experts in the publishing
field consider this astounding. They do not understand how a small
magazine with no advertising and no newsstand sale could have achieved
such a following. To me, the explanation is very simple. I
am not doing anything, of myself. I am merely a channel for **h <something>.

What is this something? I cannot define it fully.

It is the force in the universe that makes men love goodness, even
when they turn away from it. It is the power that holds the stars in
their orbits, but allows the wind to bend a blade of grass. It is the
whisper in the heart that urges each one to be better than he is. It
is mankind's wistful yearning for a world of justice and peace.

All things are possible to God, but He chooses- usually- to

work through people. Sometimes such people sense that they are being
used; sometimes not. Fifteen years ago, troubled by the rising
tide of materialism in the post-war world, a businessman and a minister
asked themselves if there might not be a place for a small magazine
in which men and women, regardless of creed or color, could set
forth boldly their religious convictions and bear witness to the power
of faith to solve the endless problems of living. The businessman
was Raymond Thornburg. The minister was Norman Vincent Peale.
Neither had any publishing experience, but they had faith in their
idea. They borrowed a typewriter, raised about $2,000 in contributions,
hired a secretary, persuaded a couple of young men to join them for
almost no pay **h and began mailing out a collection of unstapled leaflets
that they called Guideposts. Compared to the big, established
magazines, my first efforts seemed feeble indeed. But from the
start they had two important ingredients: sincerity and realism. The
people who told the stories were sincere. And the stories they told
were true. For example, early in my life, when one of my editorial
workers wanted to find out how churches and philanthropic organizations
met the needs of New York's down-and-outers, he didn't
just ask questions. Len LeSourd went and lived in the slums as a sidewalk
derelict for ten days. That was nearly 13 years ago. Len
LeSourd is my executive editor today. Many of you are familiar,
I'm sure, with the story of my early struggles: the fire
in January, 1947, that destroyed everything- even our precious list
of subscribers. The help and sympathy that were forthcoming from everywhere.
The crisis later on when debts seemed about to overwhelm me.

That was when a remarkable woman, Teresa Durlach, came to my

aid- not so much with money, as with wisdom and courage. "You're
not living up to your own principles", she told my discouraged people.
"You're so preoccupied that you've let your faith grow dim.
What do you want- a hundred thousand subscribers? Visualize
them, then, believe you are getting them, and you <will> have them"!

And the 100,000 subscribers became a reality. And then 500,000.

And now a million January Guideposts are in circulation.

With our growth came expansion into new fields of service. Today
more than a thousand industries distribute me to their employees. They
say all personnel have spiritual needs which Guideposts helps to
meet. Hundreds of civic clubs, business firms and individuals make me
available to school teachers throughout the land. They say it helps
them bring back into schools the spiritual and moral values on which this
country was built. Thousands of free copies are sent each
month to chaplains in the Armed Forces, to prison libraries and to hospitals
everywhere. Bedridden people say I am easy to hold- and read.
Three years ago it became possible to finance a Braille edition
for blind readers. Throughout these exciting years I have been
fortunate for, although I have never offered great financial inducements,
talent has found its way to me: William Boal who so ably organizes
business operations; John Beach who guides circulation;
Irving Granville and Nelson Rector who travel widely calling on business
firms. Searching for the best in spiritual stories, my
roving editors cover not only the country, but the whole world. Glenn
Kittler has been twice to Africa, once spending a week with Dr&
Albert Schweitzer. Last summer John and Elizabeth Sherrill were
in Alaska. Van Varner recently returned from Russia. Twice
a month the editorial staff meets in New York for an early supper,
then a long evening of idea-exchange. Around the table sit Protestant,
Catholic, and Jew. Each contributes something different, and something
important: Ruth Peale, her wide experience in church work;
Sidney Fields, years of experience as a New York columnist; Catherine
Marshall LeSourd the insight that has made her books world-famous
and Norm Mullendore, the keen perception of an advertising
executive. There are people who travel long distances to assure
my continued existence. Elaine St& Johns may fly in from the West
Coast for the editorial staff meetings. Starr Jones gets up every
morning at five o'clock, milks his family cow, attends to farm chores,
and then takes a two-hour train trip to New York. Arthur Gordon
comes once a month all the way from Georgia. We have also
seen the power of faith at work among us. Rose Weiss, who handles all
the prayer-requests that we receive, answering each letter personally,
has the serene selflessness that comes from suffering: she has had
many major operations, and now gets about in a limited way on braces
and crutches. Recently, John Sherrill was stricken with one of the
deadliest forms of cancer. We prayed for John, during surgery, we
asked others to pray; all over the country a massive shield of prayer
was thrown around him. Today the cancer is gone. Perhaps it
is not fair to mention some people without mentioning all. But, you
see, those who are not mentioned will not resent it. That is the kind
of people they are. Perhaps you think the editorial meetings
are solemn affairs, a little sanctimonious? Not so. Serious, yes,
but also much laughter. Sharp division of opinion, too, and strenuous
debate. There are brain-wracking searches for the right word, the best
phrase, the most helpful idea. And there is also something intangible
that hovers around the table. A good word for it is fellowship.
A shorter word is love. Each meeting starts with a prayer, offered
spontaneously by one member of the group. It takes many forms,
this prayer, but in essence it is always a request for guidance, for open
minds and gentle hearts, for honesty and sincerity, for the wisdom
and the insights that will help Guideposts' readers. For you,
readers, are an all-important part of the spiritual experiment that
is Guideposts. I need your support, your criticism, your encouragement,
your prayers. I am a magazine; my name is Guideposts.
My message, today, is the same as it was 15 years ago: that there
is goodness in people, and strength and love in God. May He
bless you all.

HAVANA was filled with an excitement which you could see

in the brightness of men's eyes and hear in the pitch of their voices.
The hated dictator Batista had fled. Rumors flew from lip to lip
that Fidel Castro was on his way to Havana, coming from the mountains
where he had fought Batista for five years. Already the city was
filled with Barbudos, the bearded, war-dirty Revolutionaries, carrying
carbines, waving to the crowds that lined the Prado. And
then Castro himself did come, bearded, smiling; yet if you looked closely
you'd see that his eyes did not pick up the smile on his lips.

At first I was happy to throw the support of our newspaper

behind this man. I am sure that Castro was happy, too, about that support.
<Diario de la Marina> was the oldest and most influential paper
in Cuba, with a reputation for speaking out against tyranny. My
grandfather had been stoned because of his editorials. My own earliest
memories are of exiles: my three brothers and I were taken often
to the United States "to visit relatives" while my father stayed
on to fight the dictator Machado. When it was my turn, I, too,
printed the truth as I knew it about Batista, and rejoiced to see
his regime topple. None of us was aware that the biggest fight was
still ahead. I was full of hope as Fidel Castro came into Havana.
Within a week, however, I began to suspect that something was
wrong. For Castro was bringing Cuba not freedom, but hatred. He spent
long hours before the ~TV spitting out promises of revenge. He
showed us how he dealt with his enemies: he executed them before
~TV cameras. On home sets children were watching the death throes
of men who were shot before the paredon, the firing wall. Castro's
reforms? He seemed bent on coupling them with vengeance. New
schools were rising, but with this went a harsh proclamation: any
academic degree earned during Batista's regime was invalid.
Economic aid? He had promised cheaper housing: arbitrarily he cut
all rents in half, whether the landlord was a millionaire speculator
or a widow whose only income was the rental of a spare room. Under
another law, hundreds of farms were seized. Farm workers had their wages
cut almost in half. Of this, only 50 cents a day was paid in cash,
the rest in script usable only in "People's Stores".

A
suspicion was growing that Fidel Castro was a Communist. In my mind,
I began to review: his use of hate to gain support; his People's
Courts; his division of society into two classes, one the hero,
the other the villain. But most disturbing of all were the advisers
he called to sit with him in the Palace; many came from Communist
countries. What should I do about it, I asked myself?
I had watched Castro handling his enemies before the paredon. There
was no doubt in my mind that if I crossed him, mobs would appear outside
our windows shouting "Paredon! Paredon! **h" What
should I do? I was proud of the new buildings which housed <Diario>
now: the rotogravures, gleaming behind glass doors; the thump
and whir of our new presses. Here was a powerful, ready-made medium,
but it could speak only if I told it to. Then one day, early
in January, 1960, I sat down at my desk, and suddenly I was aware
of the crucifix. It was a simple ivory crucifix which my mother had
given me. I had mounted it on velvet and hung it over my desk to remind
me always to use the power of the paper in a Christian manner.
Now it seemed almost as if Jesus were looking down at me with sadness
in His eyes, saying: "You will lose the paper. You may
lose your life. But do you have any choice"? I knew in that
moment that I did <not> have any choice. From that day on I began
to write editorials about the things I did not think correct in
Fidel Castro's regime.
@ Too often a beginning bodybuilder has to do his training secretly
either because his parents don't want sonny-boy to "lift all
those old barbell things" because "you'll stunt your growth"
**h or because childish taunts from his schoolmates, like "Hey **h
lookit Mr& America **h whaddya gonna do with all those muscles (of
which he has none at the time)"? After all, a guy's gotta
have a little ego! Therefore it's a genuine pleasure
to tell you about an entirely happy bodybuilder who has <never> had
to train in secret **h has <never> heard one unkind word from his parents
**h and <never> has been taunted by his schoolmates!
This happy, always smiling lad with the sunny disposition is our new
<Junior Mr& Canada>- Henri de Courcy. Far from discouraging
Henri, his parents urge him on to greater and greater accomplishments.
Instead of admonishing him to let the weights alone they
personally took him to that master Montreal bodybuilding authority,
Professor Roland Claude. And they couldn't have entrusted
Henri to better hands because "le professeur" knows his muscles
from the <sterno-cleido mastoideus> of the neck right down to the <tibialis
anticus> of the leg **h and better still, he knows just what
exercises work best for them and what Weider principles to combine
them with for fast, <fast> muscle growth. That's because the
good professor teaches only Weider methods at his famous Montreal
Health Studio which is located at 1821 Mt& Royal East in Montreal.
Undoubtedly you have read the case histories of some of his prize-winning
pupils (every pupil has a physique title of some kind or other).
There's Gaetan d'Amours who is our newest <Mr& Canada>
**h Jean-Paul Senesac, whose story appeared here two issues ago
**h Jack Boissoneault, who was with us last month **h Charles Harve,
who recently won the "Most Muscular Man" subdivision award
in the {Mr& Canada} event **h and a host of others. Yesiree **h
the professor knows his muscles! Now when Henri was just
12 he was only 4' 10'' tall and weighed an astounding 72 pounds,
and his greatest desire was to pack on some weight. About that time
he began reading {Mr& America} and {Muscle Builder}
and he learned of the famous Weider way to fast weight gaining. Seeing
so many illustrations and reading so many testimonials to the value
of {Quick-Wate} and {Super-Protein}, those two wonder-working
Weider food supplements, he decided to try them and see what they
could do for him. Well, sir **h they did real great! For
in almost less time than it takes to tell it, Henri's bodyweight was
increasing rapidly. Of course he did some exercising **h he's crazy
about water skiing and swimming and this vigorous exercise in conjunction
with the added food supplements packed pounds of solid muscle
on his skinny frame. Henri has always had shapely legs from swimming
and water skiing and really doesn't have to work them very much.
But he was totally dissatisfied with his upper body. It was muscular
but it wasn't symmetrical. "A real 'nothing' torso", says
Henri. "It never seemed to widen **h it just got longer and longer".

That's when he went to Professor Claude. And at

once Claude saw what the trouble was and he knew just how to correct
it. In his gym the professor has some of the most "knocked out" equipment
since Vic Tanny. Mr& Claude is a specialist in torso development
and he has long favored the now-famous Weider {Push-Pull
Super-Set} technique in which one exercise of the Super-Set is
a {pressing} or "pushing" movement which accents one sector of
a muscle group in a specific way, followed by a "pulling" exercise
which works the opposing sector of the same muscle group. So
right away Claude introduced Henri to his famous "moon" bench
and proceeded to teach him his first Push-Pull Super-Set consisting
of the wide-grip Straight-Arm Pullover (the "pull" part of the
Push-Pull Super-Set) which dramatically widens the ribcage and
strongly affects the muscles of the upper back and chest **h and the
collar-to-collar Bench Press which specifically works on the chest to
build those wide, Reeves-type "gladiator" ~pecs, while stimulating
the upper ~lats and frontal deltoids. As you can see,
in this Push-Pull Super Set the entire chest-back-shoulder area is
vigorously exercised in alternate sectors by alternate exercises **h so
the complete torso remains pumped-up all the time! Now when
Henri has completed four complete Push-Pull Super-Sets No& 1,
the professor allows him about a five-minute rest period before starting
him on four complete Push-Pull Super-Sets No& 2. Super-Set
No& 2 is made up of similar exercises, but this time done
with dumbbells, and using both "moon" and flat benches. The "push"
exercise of this Push-Pull Super-Set is the Bench Press done
with elbows well pulled back and with a greater downward stretch of
the pectorals not possible with the barbell variation. You need the
barbell variation to build width and mass in the ~pecs **h the dumbbell
variation develops a most classically sculptured outline to the ~pecs.

The "pull" exercise in this Super-Set is the one-dumbbell

Bent-Arm Pullover.
(Note how strongly
the upper ~lats and serratus are worked in this fine exercise
because of the pin-point concentration of force which the dumbbell variation
affords). In the third Push-Pull Super-Set the "push"
exercise is the widegrip Pushup Between Bars, while the "pull"
exercise is the Moon Bench Lateral Raise with bent arms.

The Pushup done in this manner is the greatest pectoral-ribcage

stretcher ever invented! This is true {only} if a very wide grip
is used and {only} when the {greatest possible stretch} is
achieved. You'll know when you've made the greatest stretch because
your shoulder blades will touch! As you see, the professor has designed
a piece of apparatus that {forces} the bodybuilder to use
a w-i-d-e grip **h he has to; he just can't do anything about it at
all! But as you can also see, it's not a painful exercise
at all, because Henri de Courcy- the "happy" bodybuilder-
looks as though he were having the time of his life! The last
exercise of Roland Claude's prescribed program for Henri is a single
exercise, done in individual sets with a bit longer pause between
sets. By this time Henri's entire chest-back-~lat-shoulder area
is pumped-up to almost bursting point, and Claude takes time to
do a bit more pectoral-front deltoid shaping work. He has Henri do
from four to six sets of the Incline Bench Press (note the high incline).
This gives a wide flare to the ~pecs, causing them to flow
dramatically upward into deltoids and dramatically downward into the
serratus and ~lats. This is the kind of chest that invariably
wins contests **h that steel-edged "carved-out-of-solid rock" looks
of the great champions. So with four complete Push-Pull
Super-Sets No& 1, four of No& 2, four of No& 3 and four to
six sets of the Incline Bench Press, you can see that Henri de Courcy
has had a terrific mass-building, muscle-shaping, torso-defining
workout that cannot be improved upon.
@ Physique contests are rarely won on muscle size alone **h
rarer still is a <Mr& America> or <Mr& Universe> of true Herculean
build. The aspects of physical development that catch the judges'
eyes and which rightfully influence their decisions are symmetry
and that hallmark of the true champion- <superior definition>
of the muscles.

Now <good> definition is one thing that all of us can

acquire with occasional high-set, high-rep, light-weight workouts.
But <contest> definition- that dramatic muscular separation of every
muscle group that seems as though it must have been carved by a sculptor's
chisel- is something quite different. This comes not alone
from high-set, high-rep training, but from certain definition-specialization
exercises which the champion selects for himself with the knowledge
of exactly what works best for <him>. Often these exercises
work well for some bodybuilders but less spectacularly for others.
Because they are "minority" exercises and have but a limited
appeal they soon find themselves in the limbo of the forgotten. Only
when the newest <Mr& America> or <Mr& Universe> rediscovers
them and puts them into practice are we reacquainted with them and
once again see how effective they really are. The exercise I
shall discuss in this- the first of a new series of articles on muscle
definition-specialization of a particular body part- is the One
Leg Lunge. Why it was ever forgotten for even a moment I cannot say
because it works perfectly for <everyone>, no matter whether he has
short or long thigh-bone lengths! It is the one exercise
that drastically influences the definition of the thighs at the {hipline}-
that mark of the champion that sets him apart from all other
bodybuilders **h a criterion of muscle "drama" that is unforgettable
to judges and audiences alike **h the facet of muscular development
that wins prizes. Definition of the thighs at the uppermost
part is quite commonly seen in most championship Olympic lifters which
is easily understandable. The One Leg Lunge is a {split} and
all lifters practice this in their regular workouts. But for
purely definition purposes- used in conjunction with your regular
Squatting, Leg Curling, Leg Extensor programs- a heavy weight is
not needed. Indeed, a lighter weight works much better because a greater,
more extensive split can be performed. Used in several sets of
high reps once or twice each week it will not be long before your entire
upper leg takes on a razor-sharp definition in which the muscles look
like wire cables writhing and twisting under the skin! Really
there is no reason why this fine exercise should not find its way
into your leg program at all times, for the following suggestions show
why it is so effective: _1._ It's a {complete} thigh contraction-extension
exercise. _2._ It places terrific tension on
the leg muscles from start to finish of each repetition. _3._ It
improves over-all balance and control for the bodybuilder, and helps
to make Squats more easily and more correctly performed. _4._ It
increases flexibility of the legs. _5._ It speeds muscle growth
and power development even for the {advanced} bodybuilder because
each hip and leg is exercised separately, thus enabling a massive, concentrated
effort to be focused on each. You'll need your Weider
Power Stands for this fine exercise and here's the way it's
done: _1._ Place your Power Stands in position and adjust their
height so that this will correspond to the height of your shoulders
when you are in a deep leg split as for a heavy Clean. _2._ Place
a suitably-loaded barbell across them; grasp the bar (which will
rest against the back of your neck); extend your feet forward and
backward until you are in a deep leg split. Now raise the weight
by {straightening} your {front} leg, {without moving your
feet}. When the front knee is straight and {locked}, allow it
to bend again until you feel the bar come lightly into contact with the
sides of the Power Stands. _3._ After you have taken a breather,
{reverse} the position of your legs so that the {front} thigh
of the {previous} exercise is now to the {rear}, and the
{rear} thigh now to the {front}, and perform the same movement
in the same manner. That's the One-Leg Lunge in a nutshell.
You should have a couple of training partners to stand by when you
make your first
experiments **h just for safety. You should also begin
this exercise with a very light barbell until you become accustomed
to it balance-wise. Oh, you'll wobble and weave quite a bit
at first. But don't worry. Before your first training experiment
has ended there will be a big improvement and almost before you know it
you'll be raising and lowering yourself just like a veteran!

Although I suggested that you hold the bar at the {back} of

the neck there's no reason why you shouldn't make some experiments
with the bar held in {front} of the neck. Squat-style lifters and
leg-split lifters would both benefit enormously by practicing those
variations providing that they remember to make alternate sets with the
{left} and {right} leg to the {front}.

THE MOST BEAUTIFUL bed of pansies I've seen was in a South

Dakota yard on a sizzling day. Pansies are supposed to like it
cool, but those great velvety flowers were healthy and perky in the glaring
sun. I sought out the gardener and asked him what he did to produce
such beauties in that weather. He seemed puzzled by my question.
"I just love them", he said. The more I talked with him,
the more convinced I became that that was the secret of their riotous
blooming. Of course his love was expressed in intelligent care.
He planted the pansy seeds himself, buying them from a pansy specialist.
These specialists, I learned, have done a great deal of work to
improve the size and health of the plants and the resulting flowers. Their
seeds produce vigorous blooming plants half again the size of the
unimproved strains. I asked him if he took seeds from his own
plants. Occasionally, when he had an unusual flower that he wanted
more of he did; but pansy seeds, he told me, soon "run down". It's
best to buy them fresh from a dealer who is working to improve them.

His soil was "nothing special", just prairie land, but

he had harrowed in compost until it was loose, spongy and brown-black.
I fingered it and had the feeling of adequacy that comes with the
right texture, tilth and body. It isn't easy to describe it, but every
gardener knows it when his fingers touch such soil. Nothing
is easier to grow from seed than pansies. They germinate quickly, the
tiny plants appearing in a week, and grow along lustily. It doesn't
really matter which month of the year you sow them, but they germinate
best when they have a wide variation of temperature, very warm followed
by cool in the same 24 hours. I like to make a seedbed
right in the open, though many people start them successfully in cold
frames. Pansies don't have to be coddled; they'd rather have things
rugged, with only moderate protection on the coldest days. If you
do use a cold frame be sure that its ventilation is adequate.

For my seedbed I use good garden soil with a little sand added to
encourage rooting. I dig it, rake it smooth, sow the seeds and wet them
down with a fog spray. Then I cover the sowing with a board. This
keeps it cool and moist and protects it from birds. Ants carry away
the seeds so better be sure that there are no ant hills nearby.

When the first sprinkling of green appears I remove the board. A

light, porous mulch applied now keeps the roots cool and the soil soft
during these early days of growth. I like sawdust for this, or hay.

When they have 4 to 6 leaves and are thrifty little plants, it's
time to set them out where they are to remain. Every time you transplant
a pansy you cause its flowers to become smaller. The moral is:
don't transplant it any oftener than you must. As soon as they
are large enough to move, I put mine 9 inches apart where they are
to bloom. I put a little scoop of pulverized phosphate rock or steamed
bone meal into each hole with the plant. That encourages rooting, and
the better developed the roots, the larger and more plentiful the flowers.

Pansies are gluttons. I doubt if it is possible to overfeed

them. I spade lots of compost into their bed; lacking that,
decayed manure spread over the bed is fine. One year I simply set the
plants in the remains of a compost pile, to which a little sand had
been added, and I had the most beautiful pansies in my, or any of my
neighbors' experience. In addition to the rich soil they benefit by
feedings of manure water every other week, diluted to the color of weak
tea. As a substitute for this, organic fertilizer dissolved in water
to half the strength in the directions, may be used. They
need mulch. We put a light mulch over the seedlings; now we must use
a heavy one. Three inches of porous material will do a good job of
keeping weeds down and the soil moist and cool. When winter comes
be ready with additional mulch. I like hay for this and apply it
so that only the tops of the plants show right after a good frost. That
keeps in the cold, retains moisture and prevents the heaving of alternate
freezing and thawing. Don't miss the pansies that appear
from time to time through the winter. Whenever there is a thaw or
a few sunny days, you'll be likely to find a brave little blossom or
two. If those aren't enough for you, why not grow some just for winter
blooming? The pansies I cherished most bloomed for me in February
during a particularly cold winter. I started the seed in a flat
in June and set out the little pansies in a cold frame. (An unheated
greenhouse would have been better, if I had had one.) The plants
took zero nights in their stride, with nothing but a mat of straw over
the glass to protect them. In response to the lengthening days of February
they budded, then bloomed their 4-inch velvety flowers. That
cold frame was my morale builder; its mass of bright bloom set in a
border of snow made my spirits rise every time I looked at it. Like
strawberries in December, pansies are far more exciting in February
than in May. Try that late winter pickup when you are so tired of cold
and snow that you feel you just can't take another day of it.

The day will come, in midsummer, when you find your plants becoming
"leggy", running to tall-growing foliage at the expense of blossoms.
Try pegging down each separate branch to the earth, using a bobby
pin to hold it there. Pick the flowers, keep the soil dampened, and
each of the pegged-down branches will take root and become a little
plant and go on blooming for the rest of the season. As soon as an experimental
tug assures you that roots have taken over, cut it off from
the mother plant. A second and also good practice is to shear
off the tops, leaving an inch high stub with just a leaf or two on each
branch. These cut-down plants will bud and blossom in record time
and will behave just as they did in early spring. I like to shear half
my plants at a time, leaving one half of them to blossom while the
second half is getting started on its new round of blooming. Probably
no one needs to tell you that the way to stop all bloom is to
let the blossoms go to seed. Nature's aim, different from ours, is
to provide for the coming generation. That done, her work is accomplished
and she ignores the plant. Here is a word of advice when
you go shopping for your pansy seeds. Go to a reputable grower, preferably
a pansy specialist. It is no harder to raise big, healthy, blooming
plants than weak, sickly little things; in fact it is easier. But
you will never get better flowers than the seed you grow. Many
people think that pansies last only a few weeks, then their period
of growth and bloom is over. That is not true. If the plants are cared
for and protected over the winter, the second year is more prolific
than the first. Would you like to grow exhibition pansies?
Remove about half the branches from each plant, leaving only the strongest
with the largest buds. The flowers will be huge. Pansies
have character. They stick to their principles, insist upon their
due, but grow and bloom with dependable regularity if given it. Treat
them right and they'll make a showing every month in the year except
the frigid ones. Give them food, some shade, mulch, water and more
food, and they'll repay your solicitude with beauty.

A SALAD WITH
greens and tomato is a popular and wonderfully healthful addition
to a meal, but add an avocado and you have something really special.
This delightful tropical fruit has become well-known in the past
thirty years because modern transportation methods have made it possible
to ship avocado anywhere in the United States. It has a great
many assets to recommend it and if you haven't made avocado a part
of your diet yet, you really should. You will find that avocado
is unlike any other fruit you have ever tasted. It is roughly shaped
like a large pear, and when properly ripened, its dark green skin covers
a meaty, melon-like pulp that has about the consistency of a ripe
Bartlett pear, but oily. The avocado should have a "give" to it,
as you hold it, when it is ripe. The flavor is neither sweet, like
a pear, nor tart like an orange; it is subtle and rather bland, nut-like.
It is a flavor that might take a little getting used to- not
because it is unpleasant, but because the flavor is hard to define in
the light of our experience with other fruits. Sometimes it takes several
"eatings" of avocado to catch that delightful quality in taste
that has made it such a favorite throughout the world. Once you become
an avocado fan, you will look forward to the season each year with
eager anticipation.

#NATURALLY DORMANT AND NO SPRAY DANGER#

Today,
refrigerated carriers have made the shipping of avocados possible
to any place in the world. The fruit is allowed to mature on the tree,
but it is still firm at this point. It is brought to packing houses,
cleaned and graded as to size and quality, and packed in protective
excelsior. The fruit is then cooled to 42`F&, a temperature at which
it lapses into a sort of dormant state. This cooling does not change
the avocado in any way, it just delays the natural softening of
the fruit until a grovelike temperature (room temperature) is restored.
This happens on the grocer's shelf or in your kitchen. One
of the most attractive things about avocados is that they do not require
processing of any kind. There is no dyeing or waxing or gassing
needed. If the temperature is controlled properly, the avocado will delay
its ripening until needed. And unlike other fruits, one cannot eat
the skin of the avocado. It is thick, much like an egg plant's skin,
so that poison sprays, if they are used, present no hazard to the
consumer.

#NUTRITIOUS AND A CHOLESTEROL REDUCER#

Good taste and

versatility,
plus safety from spray poisons would be enough to recommend
the frequent use of such a fruit, even if its nutritional values were
limited. Avocados, however, are very rich in nutrients. Their main
asset is an abundance of unsaturated fatty acids, so necessary for maintaining
the good health of the circulatory system. Aside from this,
the average portion contains some protein, an appreciable amount of vitamins
~A and ~C- about one-tenth of the minimum daily requirement,
and about a third of the official vitamin ~E requirement. The
~B vitamins are well represented, especially thiamin and riboflavin.
Calcium, phosphorus and iron are present in worthwhile amounts,
and eleven other minerals also have been found in varying trace amounts.
None of these values is destroyed, not significantly altered by refrigeration
storage. Dr& Wilson C& Grant, of the Veterans'
Administration Hospital, Coral Gables, Florida, and the University
of Miami School of Medicine, set out to discover if avocados,
because of their high content of unsaturated fatty acids, would reduce
the cholesterol of the blood in selected patients. The study comprised
16 male patients, ranging in age from 27 to 72. They were put
on control diets to determine as accurately as possible, the normal cholesterol
level of their blood. Then they were given 1/2 to 1-1/2 avocados
per day as a substitute for part of their dietary fat consumption.

FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE, FIRE! The tremendous energy

released by giant rocket engines perhaps can be felt much better than
it can be heard. The pulsating vibration of energy clutches at the
pit of your stomach. Never before has the introduction of a weapon
caused so much apprehension and fear. Nuclear weapons are fearsome,
but the long-range ballistic missile gives them a stealth and merciless
swiftness which is much more terrifying. A great many writers
are bewitched by the apparently overwhelming advantage an attacker
would have if he were to strike with complete surprise using nuclear
rockets. It is relatively easy to go a step further and reason that
an attacker, in possession of such absolute power, would simultaneously
destroy his opponent's cities and people. With a nation defenseless
before it, why would the attacker spare the victim's people?
Wouldn't the wanton destruction of cities and people be the logical
act of complete subjugation? The nation would be utterly devastated.
The will of its people, so crucial in time of peril, would be broken.

Nuclear weapons have given the world the means for self-destruction
in hours or days; and now rockets have given it the means
to destroy itself in minutes. At this point it should be painfully obvious
that cities, being "soft", and the people within them are ideally
suited to destruction by nuclear weapons. However, because
this vulnerability is mutual, it is to the advantage of neither side
to destroy the opponent's cities, at least so long as the opponent
has nuclear weapons with which to effect reprisal. It should be appallingly
apparent that city-trading is not a profitable military tactic.

~ICBMs have given us a capability which could be used in

two different ways. They could be used to attack a nation's people
(which would inevitably mean the loss of the attacker's own people),
or they could be used with discrimination to destroy the enemy's military
force. If our national interest lies in being able to
fight and win a war rather than committing national suicide, then we must
take a much more penetrating look at ballistic missiles. We must
determine whether missiles can win a war all by themselves. We must make
certain that the aircraft is finished before we give the entire job
to the missile. Missiles are very valuable weapons, but they
also have their too little known limitations. Because of a missile's
ballistic trajectory, the location of a fixed target must be
known quite accurately. Placing missiles in submarines, on barges, railroads,
highways, surface vessels and in the air provides them with
passive protection by taking advantage of the gravest weakness of long-range
ballistic missiles today- the extreme difficulty of destroying
a mobile or moving target with such weapons. One must first <detect>
a fleeting mobile or moving target, <decide> that it is worthy of
destruction, <select> the missile to be fired against the target,
<compute> ballistics for the flight, and <prepare> the missile for
firing. Even if all these operations could be performed <instantaneously>,
the ~ICBM still has a time of flight to the target
of about 30 minutes. Therefore, if the target can significantly change
its location in something less than 30 minutes, the probability of
having destroyed it is drastically lowered. Because of this,
it would appear inevitable that an increasing percentage of strategic
missiles will seek self-protection in mobility- at least until missile
defenses are perfected which have an exceedingly high kill probability.

In order to destroy the enemy's mobile, moving, or imprecisely

located strategic forces, we must have a hunter-killer capability
<in addition> to our missiles. Until this hunter-killer operation
can be performed by spacecraft, manned aircraft appear to be the only
means available to us. It seems reasonable that if general
nuclear war is not to be one cataclysmic act of burning each other's
citizens to cinders, we must have a manned strategic force of long-endurance
aircraft capable of going into China or Russia to find and
destroy their strategic forces which continued to threaten us.
Let us suppose the Russians decide to build a rail-mobile ~ICBM
force. It is entirely feasible to employ aircraft such as the ~B-52
or ~B-70 in hunter-killer operations against Soviet railway-based
missiles. If we stop thinking in terms of tremendous multimegaton
nuclear weapons and consider employing much smaller nuclear weapons which
may be more appropriate for most important military targets, it would
seem that the ~B-52 or ~B-70 could carry a great many small
nuclear weapons. An aircraft with a load of small nuclear weapons
could very conceivably be given a mission to suppress all trains
operating within a specified geographic area of Russia- provided that
we had used some of our ~ICBMs to degrade Russia's air defenses
before our bombers got there. The aircraft could be used to destroy
other mobile, fleeting, and imprecisely located targets as well as
the known, fixed and hardened targets which can also be destroyed by
missile. Why, then, aren't we planning a larger, more important
role for manned military aircraft? Is there any other way to do
the job? Survivability of our strategic forces (Polaris,
mobile and hardened Minuteman, hardened Atlas and Titan, and airborne
Skybolt) means that it will take some time, perhaps weeks, to destroy
a strategic force. War, under these circumstances, cannot be one
massive exchange of nuclear devastation. Forces <will survive> a surprise
attack, and these forces will give depth, or considerable duration,
to the conflict. ##

THE forces which survive the initial

attack
must be found and destroyed. Even mobile forces must be found and
destroyed. But, how does one go about the job of finding and destroying
mobile forces? They are not susceptible to wholesale destruction
by ballistic missile. Some day, many years in the future, true
spacecraft will be able to find and destroy mobile targets. But until
we have an effective spacecraft, the answer to the hunter-killer
problem is manned aircraft. However, the aircraft which we have
today are tied to large, "soft" airfields. Nuclear rockets can
destroy airfields with ease. Here then is our problem: aircraft are
vital to winning a war today because they can perform those missions
which a missile is totally incapable of performing; but the airfield,
on which the aircraft is completely dependent, is doomed by the missile.
This makes today's aircraft a one-shot, or one mission, weapon.
Aircraft are mighty expensive if you can use them only once.

This is the point on which so many people have written off the aircraft
in favor of the missile. But remember this- it isn't the <aircraft>
which is vulnerable to nuclear rockets, it is the <airfield>.
Eliminate the <vulnerability of aircraft on the ground> and you
have essentially eliminated its vulnerability to long-range ballistic
missiles. There are <four rather obvious ways> to reduce or
eliminate the vulnerability of aircraft on the ground: @ Put
aircraft in "bomb-proof" hangars when they are on the ground.

@ Build long-range aircraft which can take off from small (3,000-foot)
airfields with runways. If we could use all the small airfields
we have in this country, we could disperse our strategic aircraft
by a factor of 10 or more. @ Use nuclear propulsions to keep
our long-range military aircraft in the air for the majority of their
useful life. @ Using very high thrust-to-weight ratio engines,
develop a vertical-takeoff-and-landing (~VTOL) long-range
military aircraft. We have the technology today with which to
build aircraft shelters which could withstand at least 200 ~psi. We
could put a portion of our strategic bombers in such shelters.
Large,
long-range bombers can be developed which would have the capability
to take off from 3,000-foot runways, but they would require more powerful
engines than we have today. There is little enthusiasm for spending
money to develop more powerful engines because of the erroneous belief
that the aircraft has been made obsolete by the missile. This
same preoccupation with missiles at the expense of aircraft has resulted
in our half-hearted effort to develop nuclear propulsion for aircraft.
One seldom hears the analogy "nuclear propulsion will do for
the aircraft what it has already done for the submarine". If,
for some reason such as economy, we are not going to develop aircraft
nuclear propulsion with a sense of national urgency, then we should
turn our effort to developing jet engines with a thrust-to-weight ratio
of 12 or 15 to one. With powerplants such as these, vertical takeoff
and landing combat aircraft could be built. For example, a 12-to-one
engine would power a <supersonic> ~VTOL fighter. With a 15-to-one
engine, a supersonic aircraft weighing 300,000 pounds could rise
vertically. The reason that we are not going ahead full speed to
develop high thrust-to-weight engines is that it would cost perhaps a
billion dollars- and you don't spend that sort of money if aircraft
are obsolete. When aircraft are no longer helpless on airfields,
they are no longer vulnerable to ~ICBMs. If our ~SAC
bombers were, today, capable of surviving a surprise missile attack and
<because of infinite dispersion or long endurance had the capability
to strike at Russia again, and again, and again>, those bombers would
unquestionably assure our military dominance. We would have
the means to seek out and destroy the enemy's force- whether it
were fixed or mobile. With such a force of manned bombers we could bring
enormous pressure to bear on an enemy, and this pressure would be
selective and extremely discriminating. No need to kill an entire city
and all its people because we lacked the precision and reconnaissance
to selectively disarm the enemy's military force. Our first
necessity, at the very outset of war, is post-attack reconnaissance.
In a few years we will have ~SAMOS (semiautomatic missile observation
system). But in the case of moving targets, and targets which
have limited mobility, what will their location be when it is time to
destroy them? What targets have we successfully knocked out? A
ballistic missile cannot, today, tell you if it was successful or unsuccessful.
What targets still remain to be hit? These crucial questions
must be answered by post-attack reconnaissance. ~SAMOS will
be hard put to see through clouds- and to see in the dark.
Even if this is some day possible, there remains the 30-minute time
of flight of a missile to its overseas target. If the target can change
its position significantly during the 30 minutes the missile is in
the air on its way, the probability of the missile destroying the target
is drastically reduced. <Pre>-attack reconnaissance is vital
but only <post>-attack reconnaissance will allow us to terminate
the war favorably. It would be priceless to have an aircraft to gather
that post-attack reconnaissance. It could operate under the clouds
and perform infrared photography through clouds and at night.
It would be even more valuable because that same aircraft could immediately
destroy any targets it discovered- no need to wait for a missile
to come all the way from the United States with the chance that
the target, if it were mobile, would be gone. A large aircraft,
such as the ~B-52 or ~B-70, could carry perhaps 50 or 100 small
nuclear weapons. Few people realize that one kiloton of nuclear explosive
power will create 1,000 ~psi overpressure at 100 feet. Or
put
another way, the hardest missile site planned today could be destroyed
by placing a one-kiloton warhead (1/20th the size of those used in Hiroshima
and Nagasaki) within 100 to 200 feet of the target!

It is our lack of extreme accuracy which forces the use of very large
yield nuclear weapons. Today we have side-looking radar which
has such high resolution that the radar picture clearly shows individual
buildings, runways, taxi-ways, separate spans of bridges, etc&.
With these keen "eyes" and small nuclear weapons delivered with accuracy,
military forces can be directly attacked <with minimum damage
to urban areas>. If we fail to develop the means to hunt down
and destroy the enemy's military force with extreme care and precision,
and if war comes in spite of our most ardent desires for peace,
our choice of alternatives will be truly frightening.

THE LYRIC BEAUTIES of Schubert's <Trout> Quintet-

its elemental rhythms and infectious melodies- make it a source
of pure pleasure for almost all music listeners. But for students of
musical forms and would-be classifiers, the work presents its problems.
Since it requires only five players, it would seem to fall into the
category of chamber music- yet it calls for a double bass, an instrument
generally regarded as symphonic. Moreover, the piece is written
in five movements, rather than the conventional four of most quintets,
and this gives the opus a serenade or divertimento flavor. The
many and frequent performances of the <Trout> serve to emphasize
the dual nature of its writing. Some renditions are of symphonic dimensions,
with the contrabass given free rein. Other interpretations present
the music as an essentially intimate creation. In these readings,
the double bass is either kept discreetly in the background, or it
is dressed in clown's attire- the musical equivalent of a bull in
a china shop. Recently I was struck anew by the divergent approaches,
when in the course of one afternoon and evening I listened to no fewer
than ten different performances. The occasion for this marathon:
Angel's long-awaited reissue in its "Great Recordings of the
Century" series of the Schnabel-Pro Arte version. Let me say at
the outset that the music sounded as sparkling on the last playing as
it did on the first. Whether considered alone or in relation
to other editions, ~COLH 40 is a document of prime importance.
Artur Schnabel was one of the greatest Schubert-Beethoven-Mozart
players of all time, and any commentary of his on this repertory is valuable.
But Schnabel was a great teacher in addition to being a great
performer, and the fact that four of the ten versions I listened to
are by Schnabel pupils (Clifford Curzon, Frank Glazer, Adrian Aeschbacher,
and Victor Babin) also sheds light on the master's pedagogical
skills. Certain pianistic traits are common to all five Schnabelian
renditions, most notably the "Schnabel trill" (which differs
from the conventional trill in that the two notes are struck simultaneously).
But the most impressive testimony to Schnabel's distinction
as a teacher is reflected by the individuality which marks each
student's approach as distinctly his own. Schnabel's emphasis
on structural clarity, his innate rhythmic vibrancy, and impetuous
intensity all tend to stamp his reading as a symphonic one. Yet no
detail was too small to receive attention from this master, and as a
result the playing here has humor, delicacy, and radiant humanity. This
is a serious-minded interpretation, but it is never strait-laced. And
although Schnabel's pianism bristles with excitement, it is meticulously
faithful to Schubert's dynamic markings and phrase indications.
The piano performance on this <Trout> is one that really demands
a search for superlatives. About the Pro Arte's contribution
I am less happy. I, for one, rather regret that Schnabel didn't
collaborate with the Budapest Quartet, whose rugged, athletic
playing was a good deal closer to this pianist's interpretative outlook
than the style of the Belgian group. From a technical standpoint,
the string playing is good, but the Pro Arte people fail to enter
into the spirit of things here. The violinist, in particular, is very
indulgent with swoops and slides, and his tone is pinched and edgy.
The twenty-five-year-old recording offers rather faded string tone,
but the balance between the instruments is good and the transfer is very
quiet. There is a break in continuity just before the fourth variation
in the "<Forellen>" movement, and I suspect that this is
due to imperfect splicing between sides of the original ~SPs.

Turning to the more modern versions, Curzon's (London) offers

the most sophisticated keyboard work. Every detail in his interpretation
has been beautifully thought out, and of these I would especially
cite the delicious <la^ndler> touch the pianist brings to the fifth
variation (an obvious indication that he is playing with Viennese
musicians), and the gossamer shading throughout. Some of Curzon's
playing strikes me as finicky, however. Why, for example, does he favor
<two> tempos, rather than one, for the third movement? The assisting
musicians from the Vienna Octet are somewhat lacking in <expertise>,
but their contribution is rustic and appealing. (Special compliments
to the double bass playing of Johann Krumpp: his scrawny,
tottering sound adds a delightful hilarity to the performance.)

The Glazer-Fine Arts edition (Concert-Disc) is a model of lucidity

and organization. It is, moreover, a perfectly integrated ensemble
effort. But having lived with the disc for some time now, I find
the performance less exciting than either Schnabel's or Fleisher's
(whose superb performance with the Budapest Quartet has still to
be recorded) and a good deal less filled with humor than Curzon's.
Aeschbacher's work is very much akin to Schnabel's, but the sound
on his Decca disc is dated, and you will have a hard time locating
a copy of it. The Hephzibah Menuhin-Amadeus Quartet (Angel)
and Victor Babin-Festival Quartet (~RCA Victor) editions
give us superlative string playing (both in symphonic style) crippled
by unimaginative piano playing. (Babin has acquired some of Schnabel's
keyboard manner, but his playing is of limited insight.) Badura-Skoda-Vienna
Konzerthaus (Westminster) and Demus-Schubert Quartet
(Deutsche Grammophon) are both warm-toned, pleasantly lyrical,
but rather slack and tensionless. Helmut Roloff, playing with a group
of musicians from the Bayreuth Ensemble, gives a sturdy reading, in
much the same vein as that of the last-mentioned pianists. Telefunken
has accorded him beautiful sound, and this bargain-priced disc (it
sells for $2.98) is worthy of consideration. Returning once again
to the Schnabel reissue, I am beguiled anew by the magnificence
of this pianist's musical penetration. Here is truly a "Great Recording
of the Century", and its greatness is by no means diminished
by the fact that it is not quite perfect. This recording surely belongs
in everyone's collection.
MUST records always sound like records? From the beginning
of commercial recording, new discs purported to be indistinguishable
from The Real Thing have regularly been put in circulation. Seen
in perspective, many of these releases have a genuine claim to be milestones.
Although lacking absolute verisimilitude, they supply the
ear and the imagination with all necessary materials for re-creation
of the original. On the basis of what they give us we can know how the
young Caruso sang, appreciate the distinctive qualities of <Parsifal>
under Karl Muck's baton, or sense the type of ensemble Toscanini
created in his years with the New York Philharmonic. Since
the concept of high fidelity became important some dozen years ago,
the claims of technical improvements have multiplied tenfold. In many
cases the revolutionary production has offered no more than sensational
effects: the first hearing was fascinating and the second disillusioning
as the gap between sound and substance became clearer. Other
innovations with better claims to musical interest survived rehearing
to acquire in time the status of classics. If we return to them today,
we have no difficulty spotting their weaknesses but we find them
still pleasing. Records sound like records because they provide
a different sort of experience than live music. This difference is
made up of many factors. Some of them are obvious, such as the fact
that we associate recorded and live music with our reponses and behavior
in different types of environments and social settings. (Music often
sounds best to me when I can dress informally and sit in something
more comfortable than a theatre seat.) From the technical standpoint,
records differ from live music to the degree that they fail to convey
the true color, texture, complexity, range, intensity, pulse, and pitch
of the original. Any alteration of one of these factors is distortion,
although we generally use that word only for effects so pronounced
that they can be stated quantitatively on the basis of standard tests.
Yet it is the accumulation of distortion, the fitting together of
fractional bits until the total reaches the threshold of our awareness,
that makes records sound like records. The sound may be good;
but if you know The Real Thing, you know that what you are hearing
is only a clever imitation. Command's new Brahms Second is
a major effort to make a record that sounds like a real orchestra rather
than a copy of one. Like the recent <Scheherazade> from London
(HIGH FIDELITY, Sept& 1961), it is successful because emphasis
has been placed on good musical and engineering practices rather than
on creating sensational effects. Because of this, only those with
truly fine equipment will be able to appreciate the exact degree of the
engineers' triumph. The easiest way to describe this release
is to say that it reproduces an interesting and effective Steinberg
performance with minimal alteration of its musical values. The engineering
as such never obtrudes upon your consciousness. The effect of
the recording is very open and natural, with the frequency emphasis
exactly what you would expect from a live performance. This absence of
peaky highs and beefed-up bass not only produces greater fidelity, but
it eliminates listener fatigue. A contributing factor is the perspective,
the uniform aesthetic distance which is maintained. The orchestra
is far enough away from you that you miss the bow scrapes, valve
clicks, and other noises incidental to playing. Yet you feel the orchestra
is near at hand, and the individual instruments have the same firm
presence associated with listening from a good seat in an acoustically
perfect hall. Command has achieved the ideal amount of reverberation.
The music is always allowed the living space needed to attain its
full sonority; yet the hall never intrudes as a quasi-performer. The
timbre remains that of the instruments unclouded by resonance.

All of this would be wasted, of course, if the performance lacked

authority and musical distinction. For me it has more of both elements
than the majority of its competitors. Steinberg seems to have gone
directly back to the score, discounting tradition, and has built his
performance on the intention to reproduce as faithfully as possible exactly
what Brahms set down on paper. Those accustomed to broader,
more romantic statements of the symphony can be expected to react
strongly when they hear this one. Without losing the distinctive undertow
of Brahmsian rhythm, the pacing is firm and the over-all performance
has a tightly knit quality that makes for maximum cumulative effect.
The <Presto ma non assai> of the first trio of the scherzo is
taken literally and may shock you, as the real <Allegro con spirito>
of the finale is likely to bring you to your feet. In the end, however,
the thing about this performance that is most striking is the way
it sings. Steinberg obviously has concluded that it is the lyric element
which must dominate in this score, and he manages at times to create
the effect of the whole orchestra bursting into song. The
engineering provides exactly the support needed for such a result. Too
many records seem to reduce a work of symphonic complexity to a melody
and its accompaniment. The Command technique invites you to listen
to the depth of the orchestration. Your ear takes you into the ensemble,
and you may well become aware of instrumental details which previously
were apparent only in the score. It is this sort of experience
that makes the concept of high fidelity of real musical significance
for the home music listener.
The first substantially complete stereo <Giselle> (and the only one
of its scope since Feyer's four-sided ~LP edition of 1958 for
Angel), this set is, I'm afraid, likely to provide more horrid fascination
than enjoyment. The already faded pastel charms of the nai^ve
music itself vanish entirely in Fistoulari's melodramatic contrasts
between ultravehement brute power and chilly, if suave, sentimentality.
And in its engineers' frantic attempts to achieve maximum dynamic
impact and earsplitting brilliance, the recording sounds as though
it had been "doctored for super-high fidelity". The home listener
is overpowered, all right, but the experience is a far from pleasant
one. As with the penultimate <Giselle> release (Wolff's abridgment
for ~RCA Victor) I find the cleaner, less razor-edged
monophonic
version, for all its lack of big-stage spaciousness, the more
aurally tolerable- but this may be the result of processing defects
in my ~SD copies.

At the Westminster ~KC Dog Show in Madison Square Garden,

New York on the second day, the Finals of the Junior Class
brought out the most competitive competition in the history of this Class.
The Class had entries from as far west as Wisconsin and as far
south as Kentucky. This year several entries from Canada were entered
which made the Junior Class International. Forty-six of
the 53 Juniors who mailed in entries were present. It was interesting
to note that many of these Juniors were showing dogs in various other
classes at the show prior to the Finals of the Junior Class.

As has been the custom for the past several years, John Cross,
Jr&, Bench Show Chmn& of Westminster, arranged for the Juniors'
meeting before the Class, and invited two speakers from the dog
world to address them. Over 60 Juniors, parents and guests attended.

#MRS& WILLIAM H& LONG, JR& SPEAKS#

After the Juniors

were welcomed and congratulated for qualifying for the Finals of the
Junior Class, Mrs& William H& Long, Jr& was introduced as
the first speaker. In her opening remarks Mrs& Long also
welcomed the Juniors and stated, "There isn't any other show quite
like Westminster. I know because this is my 37th year with hardly
a break. Mrs& Long still feels the same unique spirit of Westminster
which she stated the present Juniors will experience today but probably
will not appreciate in full for a number of years. Twenty
years ago her daughter Betsey Long, then 13 years of age, won the
Grand Challenge Trophy, Children's Handling Class (as they were
called then) at Westminster. No sooner had Betsey come out of the
ring than Mrs& Long walked into the Working Competition with
Ch& Cadet or Noranda, another home-bred product, and won!

Speaking from long years of experience, Mrs& Long advised the Juniors:
"<When showing dogs ceases to be fun and excitement>,
STOP! Dogs have a way of sensing our feelings! When you and
your dog step into the Junior ring, it should be just what the dog
wants to do as much as what you want him to do. If you walk into the
ring because it is fun to show your dog, he will feel it and give you
a good performance! He knows your signals, what is expected of him
and the way the Class is conducted, right up through the flash-bulbs
of the photographers".

#RIGHT ATTITUDE ESSENTIAL!#

"Take
away your attitude", said Mrs& Long, "and what have you left?
Either a nervous dog because you are livid with rage- a sure sign
that you are taking things too seriously and had better stop! Or a
bored dog because you are more interested in something else- maybe
the way you look, or the date you have after the Class, or you are just
doing this to please the parents. "The reason you are in
the ring today is to show your ability to present to any judge the most
attractive picture of your dog that the skillful use of your aids can
produce. Aids sounds more like a Pony Club, or horsemanship classes-
riding a horse and showing a dog are very similar! "Your
aids are your attitude, which comes through your voice, your hands
and legs- voice to encourage, discourage or whatever the need may
be; hands to guide or restrain; legs to produce motion and rate of
speed. Without right attitude the other aids just do not work right".

Mrs& Long wished all the Juniors luck in the Class and
stated, "Have fun! And may you all continue to show at Westminster
in the years to come"!

#HARVEY BARCUS, SECOND SPEAKER#

The
second speaker was Harvey Barcus, President of the Dog Writers
Ass'n of America. Mr& Barcus spoke on the subject of
scholarships for Juniors- with which he is very familiar. Last year
a boy he knows and helped in Journalism won the Thoroughbred Racing
Ass'n Scholarship which is worth $10,000. He gave a resume of
the steps taken in order for the boy he sponsored to win the scholarship.

"Junior Showmanship is an extremely worthy project and

should be earnestly encouraged"! is one of Mr& Barcus' strong
beliefs. He feels very forcibly that the American Kennel Club should
take a MORE ACTIVE part in encouraging the Junior Division!

In closing, Mr& Barcus also wished all the Juniors

luck in their Class.

#WESTMINSTER SHOW NOTES#

Instead of 3 a&m&
in the past, the Juniors Class at Westminster was held at 4:45
p&m&. This gave the Juniors the use of the entire ring at the
show- a great advantage to them! Before the Juniors entered
the ring the Steward announced that after all Juniors had moved
their dogs around the ring and set them up, they could relax with their
dogs. From there on, each Junior was going to be judged individually.
This thoughtful gesture was well received by the Juniors as the
Class had an entry of 46 Juniors and it took approximately one hour,
45 minutes to judge the Class.

#ANNE HONE ROGERS JUDGES 28TH FINALS#

This year Anne Hone Rogers, outstanding Handler, judged the

Class. This is the third time in 28 years of Junior Showmanship at
Westminster that a lady Handler has judged the Class. As the
Juniors entered the ring, Mr& Spring, the announcer, stated over
the public-address system that this was the 28th year that Westminster
has held the Finals of the Junior Competition. Juniors competed
last year at American Kennel Club and Canadian Kennel Club recognized
shows to be eligible to compete in this Class- the Finals
for the year. A Junior who won two or more wins in the Open Class
was eligible. (The purpose of the Junior Showmanship Competition
is to teach and encourage Juniors to become good sportsmen. Many
adults showing at Westminster today are products of this Class.)

It seemed an almost impossible job for Miss Rogers to select

4 winners from the 46 Juniors entered. A large number of these Juniors
have 7 and 8 wins to their credit and are seasoned campaigners.

After the judge moved all the dogs individually, she selected
several from the group and placed them in the center of the ring. She
then went over them thoroughly giving each a strenuous test in showmanship.

#INTERNATIONAL CHAMPION OF THE YEAR#

BETTY LOU HAM,

age
16, Holyoke, Mass&, showing an Irish Setter, was chosen as International
Champion of the year. She was awarded the Professional Handlers'
Ass'ns' LEONARD BRUMBY, SR& Memorial Trophy
(named for the FOUNDER-ORIGINATOR of the Junior Classes.)

Betty is 16 years of age and had several wins to her credit

last year. In addition to showing an Irish Setter throughout the year,
she also scored with an Afghan.

#OTHER WINNERS#

SYDNEY LE
BLANC, age 15, Staten Island, N&Y&, showing a Doberman Pinscher,
was 2nd. SUSAN HACKMANN, age 14, from Baltimore,
Md&, showing a Dachshund, was 3rd. Last year Susan also placed
3rd in the Finals at Westminster. From the records we keep-
Susan is the only Junior who has placed in the Junior Classes in
both United States and Canada. KAREN MARCMANN, age 16,
Trapp, Penna&, showing a Keeshond was 4th. Most Juniors
who were entered in the Finals are seasoned campaigners and not only
show and win in Junior Classes but score in the Breed Classes as
well.

#ENTRIES INCREASING- REQUIREMENTS RAISED#

In 1960, there
were 7287 entries in the Junior Classes. Each year these shows have
increased in entries. Next year 1962, at Westminster, the Bench Show
Committee has raised the requirements so that a JUNIOR MUST WIN
3 OR MORE JUNIOR CLASSES IN THE OPEN DIVISION ONLY TO QUALIFY FOR WESTMINSTER.

PERCY ROBERTS, a leading judge will not be

at the International Show this year for the Junior Judging Contest
as he has been invited to judge in Australia in March.

#JUDGING
CLASS FOR INTERMEDIATES PROPOSED#

It has been suggested many times

that a Class be set up for the Juniors who are overage and cannot enter
the Junior Classes. For some time this writer has been suggesting
a Junior Judging Class for Intermediates over 16 and under 20 years
of age who are ineligible to compete in the Junior Class.

Such a Class was tried out successfully at the Westchester ~KC

Show recently. Not only were the contestants pleased with the Class,
but it aroused the interest of all in attendance that day. The Intermediates
in the Class with the Judge were asked to pick 4 winners
and give their reasons but their decisions did not affect the choice
of the Judge. We suggested this Class in the horse world and
it was accepted immediately and included in the programs of horse shows
At the recent horse show convention in New York it was stated
that this Intermediate Judging Class is meeting with great success
and will be a great help to future judges in the horse world.
This Class can be just as successful in the dog world if it is given
a chance. Last year Robert Harris, a leading Junior Handler entered
the Dog Judging Contest (Junior) at the International ~KC
of Chicago show and had the highest score in judging of any Junior
since the Class' inception. Juniors who attend this Chicago show
should make a point to enter this Class as it would be of great help
to them.

#MORE VOLUNTEER HANDLERS NEEDED TO JUDGE#

Superintendents
at dog shows state it is becoming more difficult to obtain a licensed
Handler to Judge Junior Showmanship Competition. The founder of
the Junior Showmanship Competition the late Leonard Brumby, Sr&
(for whom the trophy is named after at Westminster) was an outstanding
Handler and believed a Junior should have an opportunity to exhibit
in a dog show starting with the Junior Showmanship Division.

Some years ago this Class was judged by celebrities who knew
nothing of what was required of a Junior's ability to show a dog. To
overcome this unfair judging, the A&K&C& requires that a licensed
Handler be present to judge the Class. If the superintendents
do not receive more cooperation from Handlers, it has been suggested
that licensed Judges also be qualified to judge this Class. By recognizing
and helping Juniors get interested in the dog world, all will
be helping to create future dog owners.

#OTHER AWARDS FOR JUNIORS#

The Airedale
Terrier Club of America and the Kerry Blue Terrier
Club of America have under consideration donating trophies to
the boys or girls who win with their breeds in Junior Showmanship Competition
at any Show. The Kansas City and the Topeka ~KCs
are arranging that Juniors who win at their shows will be qualified to
win points for Westminster. The Rio Grande ~KC is also considering
having their Junior Classes set up so that Juniors can qualify
with points for Westminster. The American Pointer Club
is still continuing to donate a trophies to Juniors who win at Junior
Showmanship Classes with Pointers.

Traveling through the South- over 16,000 miles- with two

Great Danes, an Afghan, and a Persian kitten, we've worked up a
regular routine for acceptance at motels. My husband enters the
motel office, signs up for a room, and them solemnly asks the proprieter
if he accepts pets. "Puppies"? comes the suspicious question.
"No", he replies, "full grown, adult show dogs, housebroken,
and obedience-trained". We've never been refused!

Once settled, we're careful to walk the dogs in an out of the way
spot, keep them under control in the room, and feed and bench them where
they can't do any harm to the furnishings or the furniture.

In the morning we leave the room looking as neat as a pin!

Many a motel owner- when we've stopped there again- has remembered
us and has said he preferred our dogs to most children.

So many times I have wondered why veterinarians do not wipe the

table clean before each new canine patient is placed on it for examination.
Is it that they don't care? Are they indifferent to the
fact that the dog can easily pick up germs from the preceding patient?

AT ONE TIME, to most Americans, unless they were fortunate

enough to live near a body of navigable water, boats were considered
the sole concern of fishermen, rich people, and the United States
Navy. Today the recreational boating scene is awash with heartening
statistics which prove the enormous growth of that sport. There
are more than 8,000,000 recreational boats in use in the United States
with almost 10,000,000 the prediction for within the next decade.
About 40,000,000 people participated in boating in 1960. Boating has
become a giant whose strides cover the entire nation from sea to shining
sea. Boats are operated in every state in the Union, with the heaviest
concentrations along both coasts and in the Middle West.

The spectacular upsurge in pleasure boating is markedly evident,

expectedly, in the areas where boats have always been found: the natural
lakes, rivers, and along the nation's coastline. But during the
last several years boats were launched in areas where, a short time
ago, the only water to be found was in wells and watering troughs for
livestock. Developed as a result of the multi-purpose resources
control program of the government, vast, man-made bodies of water represent
a kind of glorious fringe benefit, providing boating and fishing
havens all over the country. No matter how determined or wealthy
boating lovers of the Southwest had been, for example, they could
never have created anything approaching the fifty square-mile Lake
Texoma, located between Texas and Oklahoma, which resulted when the
Corp of Army Engineers dammed the Red River. In 1959, according
to the Engineers, Lake Texoma was only one of thirty-two artificial
lakes and reservoirs which were used for recreation by over 1,000,000
persons. Where an opportunity to enjoy boating has not been
created by bringing bodies of water to the people, means have been found
to take the people and their boats to the water. Providing these
means are about ninety companies which manufactured the estimated 1,800,000
boat trailers now in use. It is a simple task to haul a boat fifty
or one hundred miles to a lake or reservoir on the new, light, strong,
easy-to-operate trailers which are built to accommodate almost any
kind of small boat and retail from $100 to $2,000. The sight of
sleek
inboards, outboards, and sailboats being wheeled smartly along highways
many miles from any water is commonplace. Boatmen lucky enough
to have facilities for year 'round anchorage for their craft,
will recall the tedious procedure of loading their gear into the car,
driving to the water,
and making trip after trip to transfer the gear to
the boat. Today, the boat, on its trailer, is brought to the gear and
loaded at the door. Arriving at the waterside, the boat is launched,
the family taken aboard and, that easily, another day afloat is begun.

And trailers for boats are not what they started out to be
ten years ago. This year, Americans will discover previously unheard
of refinements in trailers that will be exhibited in about one hundred
of our nation's national, regional and local boat shows. The boats
of America's trailer sailors in 1961 will be coddled on clouds as
they are hauled to new horizons. The variety of craft on the
country's waters today is overwhelming. They range from an eight-foot
pram, which you can build yourself for less than $50, to auxiliary
sailboats which can cost over $100,000. Boat prices vary according to
the buyer's desires or needs. In this respect, boats can be compared
with houses. There is no limit to what you can spend, yet it is easily
possible to keep within a set budget. There is no question as to
just what is available. You name it, our industry is producing it, and
it probably is made in different models. There are canoes ideal
for fishing in protected waters or for camping trips. There are
houseboats which are literally homes afloat, accommodating whole families
in comfort and convenience. You can cross an ocean in a fully equipped
craft, sail, power, or both, or laze away a fine day in a small
dinghy on a local pond. You may have your boat of wood, canvas,
plywood, plastic, or metal. You may order utility models, inboard or
outboard, with or without toilets, galleys, and bunks. You may dress
it up with any number of accessories or keep it as simple as you choose.

Designers and manufacturers have produced models for purchasers

who run the gamut from a nautical version of the elderly Pasadena
lady who never drove more than five miles an hour on her once-a-month
ride around the block, to the sportiest boatman who insists on all
the dash, color, flair and speed possible to encompass in a single boat.
You pay your money and you take your choice. American technology
in engine and hull design is largely responsible for the plentiful
interest in American boating. I wonder if anyone ever bothered
to make the point that when it comes to boats and their motors, Americans
excel over any country in the world in the long run. Russia,
whose technology is not quite primitive, is still in the dark ages
when it comes to improving the outboard motor, for instance. Now
here is truly a marvel. The outboard engine of today has a phenomenal
range of one to 80 horsepower, unheard of a few years ago for a two
cycle engine in quantity production. These engines can be removed
from a boat with relative ease, wherein lies their greatest advantage.
Their cost is not beyond the hopes of the American pocketbook, the
range being about $150 to $1,000, depending on size. Great
thought
has been given to making life easier for the growing boating population
of the country; and to making the owning of a boat simpler. There
was a time when, if a man wanted to purchase a boat, it was necessary
for him to be able to produce a sizeable amount of cash before he
could touch the tiller or wheel. Having a boat financed through a local
bank is done much the same way as an automobile loan is extended.
Marine dealers and even some manufacturers who sell direct in non-dealer
areas cooperate in enabling you to launch now and pay later.

Terms range from one to five years and the interest rates and down
payments run about the same as for automobiles. Of course, individual
financing arrangements depend a good deal on the purchaser's earning
power, credit rating and local bank policy. Outboard motors,
insurance, and boat repairs may also be financed in the same way as
boats. Terms and rates of interest for motors generally follow those
for home appliances. When the automobile was in its embryonic
stage, such roads as existed were pretty much open roads with the tacit
understanding that horses should not be unduly terrified being about
the only rule governing where, when and how fast a car could go. When
air travel was in its infancy, the sky was considered big enough and
high enough for all. Man had enough to worry about managing to get
up there and stay without being burdened with rules once aloft. It was
much the same with pleasure boating at first. Come one, come all, the
water's fine! As the ungoverned days of the automobile
and the airplane are long since relegated to the past, so is the carefree
attitude toward what a boatman may and may not do; must and should
do. However, there is a minimum of legislative restriction on boating.

Laws on boating vary according to the state in which the

craft is to be used and according to its horsepower. What may be acceptable
in one state may be strictly prohibited across the boundary line.
The main requirement is to be sure the boat is numbered according
to the regulations of the state in which the boat will be principally
used. If your state has no provisions for the numbering of pleasure
boats, you must apply for a number from the U&S& Coast Guard for
any kind of boat with mechanical propulsion rated at more than 10 horsepower
before it can be used on Federal waterways. State numbering
laws differ from each other in many ways. Fees are not the
same
and some states do not require certain craft, such as sailboats with
no power, to be registered at all. Many states have laws regulating
the use of boat trailers and some have restrictions regarding the age
of motor boat operators. Generally, states reserve for communities
the right to have local ordinances regulating speed and other activities.
It is always wise to consult your marine dealer, local yacht
or boat club secretary, or local law enforcement officers if you are
not positive what the regulations are. Ignorance of the law is no better
excuse on the water than it is on land; lack of ability and common
sense can lead to just as much tragedy. Hand in hand with
the legislative program is the industry's self originated and directed
safety program. Foreseeing the possible threats to safety with the
rapid growth of the sport, the industry has been supporting an intense,
coordinated educational program with great success since 1947.

A primary factor in the success of the safety program has been the
enthusiastic cooperation of the individual manufacturers. The industry
has been its own watch dog. With U&S& Coast Guard cooperation,
the American Boat and Yacht Council was formed to develop recommended
practices and standards for boats and their equipment with reference
to safety. Industry interest in safety goes even farther.
In 1959, the Yacht Safety Bureau was reorganized by the National
Association of Engine and Boat Manufacturers and a group of insurance
underwriters to provide a testing laboratory and labeling service
for boats and their equipment. A new waterfront site for the bureau
is now being built at Atlantic City, New Jersey, to provide the
most modern marine testing facilities as a further tool to keep the
sport safe. In addition to these activities, the ~NAEBM,
with headquarters at 420 lexington Avenue, New York City, as well
as other associations and individual manufacturers, provide and distribute
films, booklets, and public services in regard to proper boat handling
and safety afloat. It is important to note the work of
the United States Power Squadrons and the U&S& Coast Guard
Auxiliary. Each of these fine groups gives free boating classes in
seamanship piloting and small boat handling. These are not governmentally
subsidized organizations. This year, over 100,000 persons will
receive this free instruction. As America on wheels was responsible
for an industry of motor courts, motels, and drive-in establishments
where you can dine, see a movie, shop, or make a bank deposit,
the ever-increasing number of boating enthusiasts have sparked industries
designed especially to accommodate them. Instead of motels, for
the boatman there are marinas. The word marina was coined by
~NAEBM originally to describe a waterfront facility where recreational
boats could find protection and basic needs to lay over in relative
comfort. Currently, marina is used to indicate a municipal or
commercially operated facility where a pleasure boat may dock and findsome
or all of the following available: gasoline, fresh water, electricity,
telephone service, ice, repair facilities, restaurants, sleeping
accommodations, a general store, and a grocery store. Yachtel,
a relatively new word, indicates a waterfront type of hotel where
a yachtsman may dock and find overnight accommodations on the premises
as well as other services. Boatel has a similar meaning to yachtel.
It indicates the same thing but it is meant to pertain more specifically
to establishments designed to cater to smaller type boats such as
outboards. Regardless of nomenclature, yachtels and boatels are marinas.

Boatyards which also provide some of the above facilities

may rightfully be called marinas. A recent survey disclosed there
are about 4,000 commercially and municipally operated marinas and
boatyards in the United States, the majority of which are equipped
to handle outboard boats.
THE design of a mechanical interlocking frame is much like a mechanical
puzzle, but once understood, the principles can be applied to
any track and signal arrangement. In the frame are two sets of bars
which interact with each other to prevent the operator from making dangerous
moves. The main set of bars are the "tappets" and one tappet
is connected to each lever. If the lever is pulled to clear a signal
or move a switch, the tappet moves a short distance lengthwise at
the same time. Close behind the plane of the tappets are the locking
bars. These can also move a short distance but at right angles
to the tappets. The number of locking bars required depends on how many
false moves must be prevented. In the sides of the tappets
are notches with sloping sides, and connection between the tappets and
locking bars consist of cams called "dogs". Two or more dogs are
mounted on each locking bar. These slide into and out of the notches
in the tappets as the tappets are moved, locking and unlocking them.
Here's how the scheme works: Suppose the operator pulls
the lever to clear a particular signal. This also pulls the tappet connected
to the particular lever and forces any dogs seated in the notches
to the side, thus moving one or more locking bars. The dogs on the
other ends of these locking bars are thus forced into notches in other
tappets. By this scheme, pulling one signal to clear locks all the
other switch and signal levers in safe positions until the first signal
is again restored to normal. Interlocking signals are normally
at stop or "red" position, and a lever must be pulled to "clear"
the signal. This is not necessarily to green, however, for in
some situations only a yellow indication is given to a train to let it
into the "plant". There are other basic rules. A turnout
may have two levers, one to actually move the switch points, the other
to lock the points. A signal cannot be cleared until all the related
turnouts are properly thrown <and> locked. Such locks are nearly
always used where the switch points "face" oncoming traffic. The
lock insures that the points are thrown all the way with no chance that
a wheel flange will snag on a partly thrown point. If the points aren't
thrown all the way, the turnout cannot be locked, and in turn,
the signal cannot be cleared. Generally, these locks on turnouts are
called "facing point locks". Figs& 1-6 show typical arrangements
of track and signals. Each diagram is accompanied by a "dog
chart", a list of the levers that show which other levers any particular
lever will lock if pulled. The lines connecting the wedge-shaped
dogs represent the locking bars at right angles to the tappet bars.

By studying the track-signal diagrams you'll note several

other details. Derails- mechanical track devices that actually guide
the wheels off the rails if a train passes a "stop" signal- are
used in many instances. "Home" signals have two blades. The blacked-in
blades indicate a fixed aspect- the blade does not move. As
an engineer approaches the plant the position of the home signal
is seen in advance when he passes the "distant" signal located
beyond the limits of the interlocking plant. In some low-speed situations,
the distant signal is fixed at caution. In other instances where
there is no automatic block signaling, the distant has only green
and yellow aspects. So much for the prototype. The interlocking
frame we built at the MODEL RAILROADER workshop and then
installed on Paul Larson's railroad follows the Fig& 1 scheme
and is shown beginning in Fig& 7, page 65, and in the photos. Here's
how it can be built.

#FRAME#

The sizes of pieces needed

for the interlocking frame are shown in the notes within Fig& 7, most
of the bars being 1/8'' brass in 1/4'' and 1/2'' widths.
You may change the dimensions to suit a frame for more or fewer levers
and locks as you wish. Our instructions assume you are building
this particular frame, which is for a junction. When cutting
the pieces, dress the ends smooth, and square with a smooth file or sanding
disk. Start with the right-hand piece "~B", **f, soldering
it to the lower piece "~A" of the same material but 12''
long. Let exactly 1'' of "~A" extend beyond "~B" and
use a square to check your angle to exactly 90 degrees. Now
lay 12 pieces of **f cut 5-3/4'' long side by side but separated
by 12 pieces of the same material 1/2'' sq&. This gives you the
spacing for locating the left-hand piece "~B". Compress the assembly
when you make the mark to show the location for "~B". Solder
this second "~B" to "~A" at right angles. There
should be 10'' between the two parallel members and each should be
1'' from an end of the long piece. Cap this assembly (with
spacing bars in place) with a **f bar. Tack-solder all the 1/2''
sq& pieces to the 10'' and 12'' members. These will be drilled
and tapped later on. Now cut five **f locking bar spacers
(which run horizontally). Position these using six intermediate temporary
**f spacers and locate the upper 12'' bar "~A". Solder
it and the five locking bar spacers to the frame. Now place 12 pieces
1/2'' sq& on this edge as we did before and space them with
the 5-3/4'' long "tappets", as they are called. Cap with a **f
bar and tack-solder in place. Cap the locking bar spacers with two
**f directly under the first two "~B" pieces. Remove all the
loose spacing bars. Mark and center-punch all the holes required
for screws to hold this assembly together. See Fig& 7. Placement
of these holes is not critical, but they should be located so that
the centers are about 1/8'' from any edge. Drill all No& 50 and
counter-drill all except the "~A" pieces size 43. Tap the "~A"
pieces 2-56. Now unsolder and disassemble the frame
except for the two 12'' and the first two 3-3/4'' bars ("~A"
and "~B" pieces), which are soldered together. Either lay
the components aside in proper order or code them with numbers and letters
so they may be replaced in their proper positions. Dress all surfaces
with a file, cleaning off all solder and drilling burrs.

Drill 20 No& 47 holes in the upper piece "~A" as shown in

Fig& 7. Tap these 3-48 for mounting the electrical contact later
on. Note 6 and 8 lock levers don't require holes for contacts.

Now reassemble the frame, using **f roundhead steel screws and nuts.
Put the 12 tappets and some **f locking bar spacers in the frame to
help align all the components before you tighten the screws. Be sure
the tappets are not pinched by a twisted 1/2'' sq& spacer. As
an anchor for the spring lock, insert a **f bar in the lower left corner
of the frame as shown in Fig& 7. Drill a No& 43 hole through
the pieces and secure with a 2-56 nut and screw. Drill two No& 50
holes, one in the insert and one in the locking bar spacer directly
above it, and tap 2-56. Number all the tappet bars before removing them
so they can be replaced in the same slots. Remove all other loose
pieces and file the edges of the basic frame smooth. Cut five pieces
of **f brass bar stock 3-3/4'' long. These are supporting members
for the short locking bars. Locate their positions in Fig& 7 and
drill No& 43 to match the corresponding holes in the frame. Cut off
excess screw lengths and file flush with either frame or nut. Drill
four No& 19 and four No& 28 holes in the 12'' long "~A"
pieces. Locate the position from Fig& 7.

#TAPPETS AND LOCKING

BARS#

Draw-file No& 1 tappet to a smooth fit in its respective

slot and square the ends. Break the end corners with a slight 45 degree
chamfer. Drill a No& 50 hole 1-1/4'' from one end and tap
2-56. (See Fig& 7.) Put a 2-56 roundhead screw into the hole, cut
off the excess threads and file flush with the underside of the bar.
To find the other stop screw position, insert the tappet into the frame
and hold the screw head tight against the frame edge. Scribe a line
across the bar on the other end of the tappet, 1/4'' plus half the
diameter of the 2-56 screw head (about 5/64'') away from the frame
edge. Total distance is about 21/64''. Tend to make this dimension
slightly undersize so you can file the screw head to get exactly
1/4'' tappet movement. Drill a No& 50 hole, tap 2-56 and insert
a roundhead 2-56 screw as you did on the first end. Drill a No&
47 hole crosswise through the tappet at the position shown in
Figs&
7 and 8. Repeat these drill and tap operations for each of the tappet
bars. To each tappet except 6 and 8, solder a **f piece of
brass and file to the tapered shape shown in Figs& 6 and 8. These
will serve as lifting pads for the electrical contacts. Fitting
the locking bars and making the locking pieces is a rather tedious job
since stop screws, tappets and locking bars must be removed and replaced
many times. As the work progresses the frame and moving parts become
a sort of Chinese puzzle where several pieces must be removed before
the part you are working on is accessible. A little extra work
here will pay off with a smooth, snug-fitting machine when you are finished.
Each completed locking bar should remain in place as the work
progresses to insure snug fitting. The order of fitting is not
too important. However, we started with the first row of bars and worked
our way back. Since the same method of shaping and fitting the dogs
and notches is used throughout, we will only describe the construction
of one locking bar. Figs& 7 and 8 give all pertinent dimensions.
All the bars are cut from **f brass. The lengths of each piece are
listed at the bottom of Fig& 7. Bar "~C" is 2-3/4'' long.
Draw-file the edges, square up the ends and put a slight chamfer
on the edges so they will not snag in the frame. Fig& 8 gives
the dimensions for locating the dog-pin holes. Center-punch and drill
the No& 31 hole 7/16'' from one end of the bar. Chuck a length
of 1/8'' dia& drill rod into a drill press or some similar turning
device and while it is rotating file the end square and then file
a slight taper 1/8'' long. Cut the piece about 9/32'' or 5/16''
long and drive it into the No& 31 hole drilled in the locking
bar. File the bottom edge flush with the bar and the top 1/8''
above the bar. This dog will engage a notch to be cut in tappet 3.

Place the locking bar in proper position and insert tappet 3.

Scribe a line through the center of the pin and across the face of
tappet 3, parallel to piece "~A". See the drawings for the shape
of the notch. Scribe ~V-shaped lines on the bar and rough out
with either a hack saw or a cutting disk in a hand power tool. We used
the latter equipped with a carborundum disk about .020'' thick and
1'' dia& fitted on a 1/8'' dia& mandrel. Such disks are
very handy for cutting and shaping small parts. File to a smooth finish.
A Barrette Swiss pattern file is handy since its triangular
shape with only one cutting face will allow you to work a surface without
marring an adjoining one. Endeavor to get the notches as much alike
as possible. The notch should have a smooth finish so that the steel
dog will slide easily over it. Assemble the parts in the frame and
test the sliding action of the mating pieces. All matching surfaces
should be checked frequently and mated on a cut and fit basis.
Chuck a 2'' or 3'' piece of 1/8'' dia& drill rod in a
drill press or
electric hand tool. Fashion a sharp scribing point about 3/64''
long on one end, using Swiss pattern files. This tool can also be
made with a lathe.

Scientists say that the world and everything in it are based on

mathematics. Without math the men who are continually seeking the causes
of and the reasons for the many things that make the world go 'round
would not have any means of analyzing, standardizing, and communicating
the things they discover and learn. Math and the formulas that
allow it to be applied to different problems are, therefore, essential
to any scientific endeavor. Hot rodding is a science. It's
not a science as involved as determining what makes the earth rotate
on its axis or building a rocket or putting a satellite into orbit
but it is, nevertheless, a science. But because science is based on mathematics
doesn't mean that a hot rodder must necessarily be a mathematician.
A guy can be an active and successful hot rodder for years
without becoming even remotely involved with mathematical problems;
however, he will have a clearer understanding of what he is doing and
the chances are he will be more successful if he understands the few
formulas that apply to rodding. A mathematical formula is nothing
more than a pattern for solving a specific problem. It places the
various factors involved in the problem in their correct order in relation
to each other so that the influence of factors on each other can
be computed. The first step in using a formula is to insert the
numerical values of the factors involved in their correct positions
in the formula. This changes the formula to an "equation". The
equation is used for the mathematical process of solving the problem.

Equations for rodding formulas are not complicated. They involve

only simple mathematics that are taught in grammar school arithmetic
classes. However, it is essential that the various mathematical symbols
used in the equations be understood so that the mathematical processes
can be done properly and in their correct order. They indicate
simple division, multiplication, subtraction, and addition. The
symbol for division is a straight line that separates two numbers
placed one above the other. The lower number is always divided into the
upper number: **f The symbol for multiplication is "~@".
It is used to separate two or more numbers in a row. For example:
**f Numbers to be multiplied together may be multiplied in any
order. The result will be the same regardless of the order used.

The symbol for subtraction is the standard minus sign. This is

nothing more than a dash. It separates two or more numbers. The number
on the right of the symbol is always subtracted from the number on
the left of the symbol. For example: **f When more than two figures
are separated by subtraction symbols the subtraction must be carried
out from the left to right if the result is to be correct. For example,
for the problem **f, 10 from 25 equals 15, then 6 from 15 equals
9. Addition is indicated by the ~+ symbol. The symbol is
used to separate two or more numbers. For example: **f Numbers separated
by addition symbols may be placed in any order. When solving
an equation that involves division as well as other steps, do all
the division steps first
to reduce those parts of the equation to their
numerical value. Multiplication, subtraction, and addition can then
be accomplished as they appear in the equation by starting at the left
end of the equation and working toward the right. Completing the
division first also includes those division parts that require multiplication,
subtraction, or addition steps: **f This would be reduced
by multiplying 8 times 6 and then dividing the product by 12. This part
of the equation would then become 4. For use in formulas, fractions
should be converted to their decimal equivalents. The easiest
way to do this is with a conversion chart. Charts for this purpose
are available from many sources. They are included in all types of mathematical
handbooks and they are stamped on some types of precision
measuring instruments. The various mathematical processes can
be simplified by carrying the results to only two or three decimal places.
Shortening the results in this manner will not have any detrimental
effect on the accuracy of the final result. Some formulas
contain "constants". A constant is a number that remains the same
regardless of the other numbers used in the formula and the resultant
equation. It is a number without which the equation cannot be solved
correctly. Rodding formulas apply to many phases of the sport.
The answers they give can often pave the way to performance increases
and,
quite often, are necessary for completing entry blanks for different
events. When it is needed, one formula is as important as another.
However, some formulas are used more than others. We'll take
them in the general order of their popularity.

#ENGINE DISPLACEMENT#

A rodder should be able to compute the displacement of his engine.

Displacement is sometimes referred to as "swept volume". Most
entry blanks for competitive events require engine displacement information
because of class restrictions. It is good to be able to compute
displacement so that changes in it resulting from boring and stroking
can be computed. Factors involved in the displacement formula
are the bore diameter of the engine's cylinders, the length of the
piston stroke, the number of cylinders in the engine, and a constant.
The constant is .7854, which is one-quarter of 3.1416, another constant
known as "pi". Pi is used in formulas concerned with the dimensions
of circles. Actually, the engine displacement formula is
the standard formula for computing the volume of a cylinder of any type
with an added factor that represents the number of cylinders in the
engine. The cross-sectional area of the cylinders is determined and
then the volume of the individual cylinders is computed by multiplying
the area by the stroke length, which is the equivalent of the length
of the cylinders. Multiplying the result by the number of cylinders
in the engine gives the engine's total displacement. The formula
is: **f. Dimensions in inches, and fractions of inches will give
the displacement in cubic inches. Dimensions in centimeters and fractions
of centimeters will give the displacement in cubic centimeters
(~cc). One inch equals 2.54 centimeters: one cubic inch equals 16.38
cubic centimeters. For example, let's consider a standard
283 cubic inch Chevy ~V8. These engines have a cylinder diameter
of 3-7/8 inches and a stroke length of 3 inches. The formula, with
the fractions converted to decimals, becomes **f. To arrive
at the answer, multiply the numbers together by starting at the left of
the group and working to the right. The different steps will look like
this: **f

#COMPRESSION RATIO#

A cylinder's compression ratio

is computed by comparing the cylinder's volume, or its displacement,
with the total volume of the cylinder and its combustion chamber.
Cylinder volume can be determined mathematically but combustion chamber
volume must be measured with a liquid. Cylinder volume is
determined in exactly the same manner as for the displacement formula:
**f. To measure the volume of one of the combustion chambers
in the cylinder head, install the valves and spark plug in the chamber
and support the head so that its gasket surface is level. Then pour
water or light oil from a graduated beaker into the chamber to fill
the chamber to its gasket surface. Do not overfill the chamber. This
is possible with water and other liquids that have a high surface tension.
Such liquids will rise to a considerable height above the surface
around the chamber before they will flow out of the chamber.

The amount of liquid poured into the chamber is determined by subtracting

the quantity still in the beaker when the chamber is full from
the original quantity. Most beakers are graduated in cubic centimeters
(~cc), making it necessary to convert the result to cubic inches.
However, the displacement of the cylinder can be converted to cubic
centimeters. The compression ratio arrived at with the formula will
be the same regardless of whether cubic inches or cubic centimeters are
used. The only precaution is that all volumes used in the formula be
quoted in the same terms. The volume of the cylinder opening
in the head gasket must be computed by multiplying its area in square
inches by the gasket's thickness in thousandths of an inch. Sometimes
it is necessary to roughly calculate the square inch area of the opening
but the calculation can usually be made with sufficient accuracy
that it won't affect the final computation. The volume of the opening
is added to the combustion chamber volume. Another thing
that must be taken into consideration is the volume of the area between
the top of the piston and the top of the cylinder block when the piston
is in top dead center position. Compute this volume by measuring
the distance from the top of the block to the piston head as accurately
as possible with a depth micrometer or some other precision measuring
device and then multiply the area of the cylinder by the depth. The
formula for this step is: **f This volume is added to the total volume
of the combustion chamber and head gasket opening. The total of
these three volumes is the "final combustion chamber volume".

After the factors just described have been computed, they are applied
to the following formula: **f For an example let's dream
up an engine that has a final combustion chamber volume of 5 cubic
inches and a cylinder volume of 45 cubic inches. Applying these figures
to the formula we get the equation: **f The compression ratio is
10 to 1. This method of computing compression ratio cannot be
used accurately for engines that have pistons with either domed or irregularly
shaped heads. Any irregularity on the piston heads will make
it impossible, with normal means, to determine the final combustion
chamber volume because the volume displaced by the piston heads cannot
be readily computed. The only way to determine the final combustion
chamber volume when such pistons are used is by measuring it with liquid
while the cylinder head is bolted to the cylinder block and the piston
is in top dead center position.

#GEAR RATIO- SPEED RELATIONSHIPS#

There are four versions of the formula that involves the relationships
of car speed, engine speed, rear axle gear ratio, and rear tire
size. By using the appropriate version any one of these factors can
be determined for any combination of the other three. To simplify
the formulas a representative symbol is substituted for each of
the factors. These are ~MPH for Car speed ~RPM
for Engine crankshaft speed ~R for Rear axle gear ratio

~W for Tire size Tire size can be determined in

several ways but the one that is the easiest and as accurate as any is
by measuring the effective radius of a wheel and tire assembly. This
is done by measuring the distance from the surface on which the tire
is resting to the center of the rear axle shaft. A tire must be inflated
to its normal hot operating pressure and the car must be loaded to
its operating weight when this measurement is made. The measurement
must be in inches. Any fraction of an inch involved in the measurement
must be converted to a decimal equivalent to simplify the mathematics.
When tire size is measured in this manner a constant of 168 is used
in the formula. To determine car speed for a given combination
of engine speed, gear ratio, and tire size, the formula is: **f
For an engine speed of 5000 ~rpm, a gear ratio of 4.00 to 1, and a
tire radius of 13 inches, the equation would look like this: **f

To determine engine speed for a given combination of the other three

factors the formula is: **f Using the same figures as for the
previous example, the equation becomes: **f To determine the
rear axle gear ratio for a combination of the other three factors, the
formula is: **f Using the figures from the previous examples, the
equation becomes: **f

#ORLANDO, FLA&, FEB& 2#- The best 2-year-old pacing mile up

to date at Ben White Raceway has been that of Mary Liner (Mainliner-Highland
Ellen), a member of the Dick Williams stable, who was
clocked 2:25. She is owned by Ralph H& Kroening, Milwaukee,
Wis&, who, according to the railbirds, can feel justly proud of her.

Other good miles have been by Debonnie (Dale Frost-Debby

Hanover) and Prompt Time (Adios-On Time) in 2:28-:36;
Kimberly Gal (Galophone-Kimberly Hanover) 2:26.2; Laguerre
Hanover
(Tar Heel- Lotus Hanover) and Monel (Tar Heel-Miracle Byrd)
in 2:34~h. Laguerre Hanover is outstanding in type and conformation-
good body, plenty of heart girth, stands straight on his legs
on excellent feet- and has the smoothest gait. This colt is behind
most of the other 2-year-olds in the Simpson stable but can show
about as much pace as any of them. Monel shows improvement with each
work-out and looks the makings of a good brood mare after winning her
share of races. Stardel (Star's Pride-Starlette Hanover),
2:34~h, looks quite promising. Fury Hanover (Hoot Mon-Fay),
Caper (Hoot Mon-Columbia Hanover) and Isaac (Hoot Mon-Goddess
Hanover) have been working together but have not equalled their best
work done some weeks ago. Fury and Caper worked in 2:35~h and did
it with ease. They are two good colts of different type. Fury is
upstanding and on the rangy side, and Caper is more the compact type.
I have never seen Caper off his feet- he seems to know nothing but
'trot' and keeps trying a little harder if asked to do so. Fury
has made a few mistakes but looks like a wonderful prospect, with his
impressive gait and stride which certainly make him cover the ground.

Trackdown (Torrid-Mighty Lady) has worked a mile in 2:33.3~h.

It took this colt several weeks to strike a pace. Then, after
emasculation, he was eased up for a couple of weeks. He has thrived
on all he has gone through and looks the makings of a good little race
horse. Thor Hanover (Adios-Trustful Hanover) is a wonderful
looking prospect and another good individual, with solid, rugged conformation,
good, flat bone and excellent feet. This colt arrived at
the Raceway early last November, and immediately was put into harness
and line-driven for a few days, and then put to cart and broken in
very nicely, knowing nothing but trot. He appeared in the hopples about
November 14, was treated for worms on the 18th, the latter date being
the first time he struck a real pace. On December 5 he paced a mile
in 2:55 on the twice-around, out in third position all the way.
This colt has done everything asked of him, and done it with ease. His
best mile to date is 2:32.2~h. Gamecock (Tar Heel-Terka
Hanover) is another promising colt, and his best time is 2:32.2~h.
This is one of the best-tempered Tar Heels ever at the center.
The first time he was harnessed he stood like a gentle old mare;
the crupper under his tail seemed to be old stuff. The fourth time in
harness he walked off like a gentleman. Being blistered for curbs has
delayed his work somewhat. But up to date he has shown as much as any
in the big Simpson stable. Hustler (Knight Dream-Torkin)
is a playful bay rascal of a colt, not the best gaited, but he surely
can pace and is right there with them, and sometimes leading them, in
the best miles. Torrid Freight (Torrid-Breeze On Hal) is a very
rugged, strong-made colt with a wonderful stride who has done with ease
everything asked of him. His best time is around 2:33. Strongheart
(Adios-Direct Gal), a fair-looking sorrel colt, knows nothing
but pace and has been right there in the best miles. Torrid Adios
(Torrid-Adios Molly) is not so masculine as most of the colts,
but I like his type and he certainly is one of the best-gaited pacers
on the grounds. Blistered for curbs and laid off three weeks, he is
coming along fine and looks like a pacer to me. First Flyer (Frisco
Flyer-Castle Light) looks like a splendid candidate for the Illinois
Stakes. His best time is 2:33.2~h. The colts in Simpson's
stable have little if anything on the fillies, especially the
pacers. Justine Hanover (Sampson Hanover-Justitia Hanover) is
improving with each work-out and paced 2:32.4~h weeks ago.
Mrs& Freight (Knight Dream-Miss Reed) shows promise and does it
in good form, and her best time is about 2:35. Hoopla (Tar Heel-Holiday
Hanover), a filly that wanted to trot, knocked herself October
31 and November 1 fighting the hopples. She was then trained on
the trot until December 29, hitched to a breaking cart once around the
half-mile track and hoppled again. This time she submitted and in
a few days was going good. On January 11 she paced a mile in 2:43.1-:38~h;
on Jan& 18 2:37.3-:36.1~h; on Jan& 21, 2:36.
This filly is a much better individual than either of her full-sisters,
Valentine Day and Cerise- more scale and much better underpinning.
She is more like her full brother, Taraday Hanover, but
larger. Up to date she is a grand-looking filly. Pete Dailey
has four promising 2-year-old pacers. Marquis Pick (Gene Abbe-Direct
Grattan) seems to be the pick of the stable at the present time.
He is a fine-looking colt with a good body, good set of legs and nice
way of going. His best mile to date is 2:28-:33. Majestic Pick
comes next, with a mile in 2:30-:33.2. This colt is another
fine-looking equine. Staley Hanover (Knight Dream-Sweetmite Hanover)
is a little on the small side but a very compact colt and looks
like one to stand training and many future battles with colts in his
class. Best time to date is 2:34-:34. Step Aside (Direct Rhythm-Wily
Widow) has worked in 2:32 on the half-mile track and shows
promise. Most of Billy Haughton's 2-year-olds have worked
from 2:40 to 2:35. Bonnie Wick (Gene Abbe-Scotch Mary) has
gone in 2:36~h; Hickory Ash (Titan Hanover-Misty Hanover)
in 2:35. The first time I saw the latter filly she trotted by me
and I noticed such a family resemblance that I said to myself, "that
must be Hickory Ash". She is a beautiful filly and likes to trot.
Hickory Hill (Star's Pride-Venus Hanover) has gone in 2:33~h;
Hickory Spark (Harlan-Hickory Tiny) 2:37~h; Buxton
Hanover (Tar Heel-Beryl Hanover) 2:35; Faber's Kathy
(Faber Hanover-Ceyway) 2:37~h; Honor Rodney (Rodney-Honor
Bright) around 2:40. The last-named is a fine-looking, large colt,
who has been unfortunate to be laid off for some time due to injuries.
He is going sound again now, and looks good. Brief Candle
(Harlan-Marcia) has gone in 2:37~h; Lena Faber (Faber Hanover-Chalidale
Lena) 2:33~h; Martha Rodney (Rodney-Miss Martha
D&) 2:35~h; Checkit (Faber Hanover-Supermarket) 2:35~h;
Charm Rodney (Rodney-The Charmer) 2:37~h; Fair
Sail (Farvel-Topsy Herring) 2:36~h; Custom Maid (Knight Dream-Way
Dream) 2:34.2~h; Jacky Dares (Meadow Gene-Princess
Lorraine) 2:36~h; Good Flying (Good Time-Olivette Hanover)
2:36~h; Bordner Hanover (Tar Heel-Betty Mahone) 2:34;
Faber's Choice (Faber Hanover-Sally Joe Whippet) 2:36~h;
Invercalt (Florican-Inverness) 2:35~h; Duffy Dares
(Meadow Gene-Princess Mite) 2:36~h; Harold J& (Worthy Boy-Lady
Scotland) 2:36; Knightfall (Knight Dream-Miss Worthy
Grapes) 2:36~h; Next Knight (Knight Dream-Next Time) 2:36~h;
Trader Jet (Florican-My Precious) 2:37~h; Trader
Rich (Worthy Boy-Marquita Hanover) 2:37~h; Good Little
Girl (Good Time-Mynah Hanover) 2:36~h; Iosola Hanover (Kimberly
Kid-Isoletta Hanover) 2:36~h. The last-named is one
of the favorites in the stable, and the boys like her very much. I will
be able to tell you more about this string of equines in the near future.

I have just seen Debonnie and Prompt Time work a mile

in 2:34, last quarter in :35.3. In going away Debonnie got behind
several lengths, stalling at the start- she is a little fussy. They
left the three-quarters together and finished almost together. Prompt
Time shows class. This filly is another Adios that wants to trot,
and trot she did until forced to do otherwise. After well broken
and equipped with 12~oz shoes on behind, bare-footed in front, she
would trot a real storm with the master, Delvin, driving. Being placed
in the hopples she was completely baffled. She hesitated, she hopped,
she roll and rocked, skipped and jumped, but in some two weeks she
started to pace, From that time to this she has shown steady improvement
and now looks like one of the classiest things on the grounds.

Rain on Friday prevented many workouts, but there were a few miles
of note on Thursday.
Those responsible included Stardel Hanover
(Star's Pride-Starlette Hanover), 2:30-:34.3; Lorena Gallon
(Bill Gallon-Loren Hanover), 2:30-:34.3; Prudent Hanover
(Dean Hanover-Precious Hanover), 2:30.3-:35.3; Premium
Freight (Titan Hanover-Pebble Hanover), 2:30.3-:35.3; Laguerre
Hanover (Tar Heel-Lotus Hanover), 2:30.3-:36.1; Monel
(Tar Heel-Miracle Byrd), 2:30.3-:36.1; Fury Hanover (Hoot
Mon-Fay), 2:30.3-:36; Isaac (Hoot Mon-Goddess Hanover),
2:30.3-:36; Caper (Hoot Mon-Columbia Hanover), 2:30.3-:36;
Lucky Freight (Knight Dream-Lusty Helen), 2:31.3-:35.3.

Sam Caton's Butterwyn (Scotch Victor-Butler Wyn),

a light bay filly, knows nothing but trot and has worked on the half-mile
in 2:30-:36. Riverboat (Dalzell-Cousin Rachel) has gone in
2:38~h. Sam is having his troubles with Layton Hanover (Dean
Hanover-Lucy Hanover), but hope to have him straightened out and going
before long. Jimmy Jordon is high on Adios Scarlet (Adios-Rena
Grattan) and she sure looks good as she goes by. Her best
time to date is about 2:30~h. He also likes Hampton Hanover (Titan
Hanover-Bertie Hanover) 2:37~h. Cathy J& Hanover (Tar
Heel-Kaola Hanover), formerly called Karet Hanover, has been rather
a problem child, but it getting better all the while and can pace
a twice around in about 2:31. Armbro Comet (Nibble Hanover-Mauri
Hanover) has been in 2:38. Flick Nipe's and Neil Engle's
Miss Phone (Galophone-Prissy Miss) is a fine-looking filly
with good disposition and good gait, and she has worked up to date in
2:46.

#DEL MAR, CALIF&, FEB& 3#- After 52 rainless

days, moisture finally came to Del Mar, resulting in but one workout
during the week for most of the horses, and leaving us with less than
half our total average rainfall during the season. While 2-year-olds
are still gaining most of the attention at the track, green
horses are starting to go a bit, and Jimmy Cruise has several that
can really make it. Work-outs for the week are as follows: Plain
Scotch, 3 (by Scotch Victor), Demon Law, 3 (by Demon Hanover),
Coffee Royal, ~p (by Royal Blackstone) and Beauty Way, ~p, 3
(by Demon Hanover) in 2:25; Eddie Duke, ~p, 3 (by Duke of
Lullwater), Marilyn C&, ~p (by Sampson Hanover) and Chalidale
Barry, 5 (by King's Ransom) in 2:20; Tiger Hanover, ~p,
3 (by Adios) in 2:26; Sherwood Lass, 4 (by Victory Song) in 2:22;
and Dauntless, 3 (by Greentree Adios) in 2:32. For the
aged horses: Mr& Budlong, ~p, 2:00.2~h, Lottie Thomas, ~p,
2:04.2~h, Mighty Signal 2:03, Clever Braden, ~p, 2:01.1~h,
and Glow Star, ~p, 2:02.3 have been in 2:35; Miss
Demon Abbe, ~p, 1:59.3 has trotted in 2:26, and is expected to
race at this gait; Carter Creed, ~p, 3, 2:01.1, Great Lullwater
2:00.3, and Hi Jay, ~p, 2:05.1~h have been in 2:30;
Tanker T&, 3, 2:05.3 is now wearing hopples and has trained in
2:19; Stormy Dream, ~p, 2:01.3~h, Demon Abbe, ~p, 2:02,
Dundeen B&, 4, 2:04.2~h, Claudia's Song, 3, 2:06.3~h,
and (jet Fire, 4, 2:02.2 have been in 2:25; Maria Key, 2,
2:06~h looked great in 2:22; Mocking Byrd, ~p, 2:01.1~h
has been in 2:12, with a racing date approaching at Bay Meadows.

Dewey Urban has a clever green trotter in Dr& Orin I&,

3 (by Yankee Hanover), his latest mile in 2:20; Victory Sun,
~p, 2:04 has trained in 2:24; Early Sun, ~p, 2:02.3, Chester
Maid 2:05, Dark Sun, ~p, 2:06.1, and Sun Tan Maid
2:05.2 have been in 2:21.

The average reader of this magazine owns more than one gun (we
ran a survey to find out) but he's always on the lookout for new and
better arms. He's more than a reader of outdoor articles; he's
a real hunter and shooter, eager to improve his sport. Well, if you're
that kind of sportsman we're here to help you. You've probably
given a lot of Christmas-season thought to the guns in your rack,
but it's not easy to decide on a new one. You still have time to
drop a few hints about the gifts you'd appreciate most; the time
to decide on them is now. As a Christmas service, I've taken a close
look at this year's crop of new models. Here they are, with my
comments and judgments. Read on, take your pick- and start dropping
those hints. First on my own list would be two arms- a rifle
and a handgun- that qualify as new in the strictest sense.
For me, a changed barrel length or an improved stock doesn't constitute
a truly new design. Such modifications are all for the best but
it takes something as different as a Deerstalker or a Jet to change
arms-making concepts. Bill Ruger's long-awaited Deerstalker
(under $110) is a new rifle action in a caliber that upsets all the
modern theory of high-velocity fans; it's a short, light, quick-handling,
fast-firing little timber gun designed to push a heavy slug
at modest velocity but with lots of killing power and ample range for
our most popular big game- whitetail. Ruger reports that
on his recent African safari the little .44 Magnum cartridge was a
real work horse. Small antelope were generally grassed with one shot,
and the .44 Magnum carbine also bagged reedbuck, kob and wart hog with
deadly efficiency; these are fairly large, tough animals.
The deadliness of the .44 Magnum in a rifle comes as no surprise to
me. At least five years ago, Tom Robinson of Marlin made up an over/under
double rifle for me in this caliber, using the now defunct Model
90 action in 20-gauge size. After figuring out how to regulate the
barrels so that they shot to the same point of impact, we fired this
little 20-inch-barrel job on my home range and in Marlin's underground
test gallery. We quickly ran into the same trouble that plagued Bill
Ruger in his first experiments: Three or four bullets would be
placed well in a six-inch bull at 100 yards and then, unaccountably,
one could stray far out of the group. Ruger learned that this
was because the higher velocity achieved in a long barrel was upsetting
the shape of the unjacketed revolver bullet. The new, jacketed slug
in .44 Magnum corrected this. But even without jacketed bullets, I
had enough faith in my double to take it on an opening-day deer hunt
that first year. Within half an hour I jumped a six-point buck that
hop-skipped through a rhododendron thicket, and I caught him just behind
the left foreleg at 60 yards. He moved only about 30 feet after
the 240-grain slug hit him- and this was after the bullet had passed
through a sapling. Three more deer have fallen to this same
gun, and all were one-shot kills. My double was made with standard-weight
revolver barrels (before cutting to revolver length), and although
it compares well in other respects, it's considerably heavier than
the Deerstalker, which only scales about 6-1/2 pounds. If ever
a rifle met the needs of the whitetail hunter, this is it. The Deerstalker
points with the ease, speed and precision of a fine imported
double shotgun, and its trigger pull is light and sharp. The 240-grain
bullet leaves the muzzle at 1,850 ~fps, which gives it all the smash
needed at woods ranges. With five shots at the immediate command
of the hunter's trigger finger, the gun and load are a deadly combination.

The second really new development this year was a revolver

handling a different sort of varmint load- the .22 Remington Jet
Magnum Center Fire. At present it's available in one model, the
fine and familiar Smith + Wesson Magnum revolver (about $110),
long a top-quality handgun among target arms. The velocity of this .22-caliber,
40-grain bullet is rated at a very hot 2,460 ~fps, and it's
the flattest shooting of any revolver cartridge, with a mid-range
rise of about an inch over a 100-yard range. This is a varmint load,
pure and simple; it's much too explosive for small edible game.
It can cut a red squirrel neatly in two or burst a crow into a flurry
of feathers. The most intriguing aspect of the ~S+W Magnum
chambered for the new Jet is that it can also fire standard .22 rim-fires
by means of adapter sleeves in the chambers. You may therefore
convert the gun into a small-game and plinking arm, although the difference
in the point of impact (Jet vs& rim-fire) can be somewhat disconcerting.
The accuracy of the Jet cartridge is fine; I tested
it in my scoped ~S+W and it was good enough to allow me to hit a
chuck with every shot at 100 yards if I did my part by holding the handgun
steadily.

#HUNTING RIFLES, '61#

The fact that the Deerstalker

and the Jet were the only completely new designs this year doesn't
mean that 1961 didn't see changes in models, actions and calibers.
Aside from the Ruger carbine, a number of hunting rifles have been
introduced for the first time. Here are the brands (in alphabetical
order) and the new models. Newcomers to the American hunter
are the Browning group of bolt-action, high-power rifles. They have
fine ~FN actions and a better-than-average finish on both the metal
and the stock wood. Barrel weights vary sensibly with the various
calibers available, and these include the standard bores (about $165)
plus the Magnums (around $170); the latter include the .264, .300
~H+H, .338, .375 and .458. Shotgun-type rubber recoil pads are standard
on all of the Magnums except the .264. Stock designs are excellent
for use with scopes. Colt's center-fire 1961 rifles are
all made with Sako actions, regardless of caliber. The .222's have
the short action; the .243 and .308, the medium action, and the .270,
**f and the Magnums, the long action (about $135 for the Standard
Coltsman and $200 for the Custom version). Previously, ~FN actions
were used for the larger cartridges. High standard has
introduced a .22 auto, the Sport-King, in two grades- field and special
(less than $45 and just over $45, respectively). It's a streamlined
rifle, fast and well-made. Among .22 Magnum Rim-Fire
rifles, 1961's lone newcomer was the Kodiak Model 260 autoloader
(around $60). Previously known as Jefferson Arms, Kodiak has given
this 11-shot hammerless job an exceptionally fine stock design, and the
260 is the first autoloader to handle .22 Magnum rim-fires.

Marlin
has made two contributions to the harvest of new offerings. The
Model 99 (under $45) is a light-weight, streamlined .22 rim-fire auto
with a tubular magazine that holds 18 Long Rifles. It's extremely
accurate for an auto, and the test rifle I tried was completely
trouble-free in functioning. The 989 (about $40) is an even newer .22
auto, this one with a seven- or 12-shot clip. Once again the
Mossberg Targo outfit has appeared, but this time as a bolt-action rifle-shotgun
combination. The bore is unrifled but is provided with an
insert tube which is rifled and which, surprisingly, gives pretty fair
accuracy even though it's only 3-1/2 inches long. You can unscrew
this tube and replace it with a smoothbore insert for use with .22 shotshells-
to break the little Targo clay targets. A trap for throwing
these miniature clays fastens to the barrel so that the shooter can
throw his own targets. A spring trap for solid mounting and a regular
hand trap are also available. You can have your choice of a seven-shot
repeater, the ~340TR (about $40) or a single-shot, the ~320TR
($10 less). The Targo is a good outfit for fun shooting
or for economic wing-shooting practice, but it's tougher than it looks
to run up a score on the clay birds. They'll travel 50 feet or
more when thrown from the spring trap but it's almost impossible to
break one after it passes the 35-foot mark. The combination of thin
pattern and very tiny pellets makes it necessary to get on the birds,
right now! Big Magnum calibers appeared in the Remington line
for 1961, with the addition of the .375 and .458 to the list of Model
725's. These are made on special order only, in Kodiak grade
(about $310), with integral muzzle brakes and heavy rubber recoil pads;
they weigh around nine pounds. A shortened version of the
highly regarded Remington 742 autoloader also appeared in 1961. This
carbine (under $140, about $15 more for a deluxe grade) has an 18-1/2-inch
barrel and was obviously inspired by the popularity of last year's
Model 760 pump with a short-barrel. This design is hard to beat
for timber hunting or for packing in a saddle scabbard. Presently,
the ~742C is available in **f. The latest versions of the famous
Savage Model 99 are the 99 Featherweight (about $125) and the
99 Deluxe (under $135), which have a top-tang safety and improved trigger
design. The replacement of the slide-lock side safety catch will
make this lever-action favorite more appealing than ever since the new
safety is easier and faster to operate.

#BEGINNERS' GUNS, '61#

A fresh crop of beginners' guns showed up in 1961, and they're

good bets for your Christmas gift list if you're wondering what to
get for a youngster. The most unusual of them is the Ithaca 49 (about
$20, $5 for a saddle scabbard)- a lever-action single-shot patterned
after the famous Winchester lever-action and featuring the Western
look. Because of its traditional lines, it probably has more kid
appeal than any other model. The action is a drop-block, handling all
the standard .22 rim-fires. Marlin's latest is also designed
for the beginning shooter, although it's a full-sized rifle with plenty
of barrel weight and ample stock. This is the Model 122 (about
$20); it's a single-shot bolt-action with an automatic safety-
i&e&, the safety goes on every time the bolt is lifted and the gun
cocked for the next shot. Stock design is excellent, and this model
is a good first gun. Another boy's model is the .22 single-shot Remington
~514C (around $20), which comes with a 21-inch barrel and a
short- 12-1/2-inch- stock; it's just right for a boy of 12-1/2.

A beginner's shotgun has also been introduced this year.

The single-barrel Stevens ~940Y (under $35) is made with a side lever
rather than a top-tang lever because many youngsters aren't strong
enough to operate a top tang to open a gun- and the side lever does
indeed open very easily. This gun has a 12-1/2-inch stock and is
available in either 20 or .410 gauge. There's another addition to
the Stevens line, the pump-action Model 77 in .410 (under $75), which
you may or may not consider a kid's gun; many experienced hunters
like this gauge and type of scattergun too.

#SHOTGUNS, '61#

Although
there were no startling developments in shotgun design this year,
a number of new models and variations of existing models did hit
the market. For example, a Browning trap version of the Superposed
over/under, the Broadway (from $350 up, depending on grade), differs
from standard models in that it is equipped with a full beavertail fore
end, a cushion recoil pad and a barrel-wide ventilated rib for fast
sighting. The Colt line now includes a new scattergun, the Standard
or Custom Pump Model (about $90 and $150, respectively) in
12, 16 and 20. Firearms International has introduced another
import, this one from Finland. It's the Valmet (about $170), a 12-gauge
over/under very much like the old Remington 32- which was
so fine
a gun that today a used one still brings high prices. High
Standard has also added two models to its line. The Supermatic Trophy
(prices begin at less than $135 and depend on grade and optional
features) is a 12-gauge auto. The Flite-King Trophy (beginning at
just over $85) is a pump gun in 12 or 16. Either model is a very good
dollar value. Mossberg's latest contribution to the field is
the Model 500 (from $73.50); this is an improved version of the old
Model 200, a pump-action 12-gauge shotgun. See page 24 for a complete
report on it.
#HANDGUNS, '61#

Aside from the .22 Jet- which

I coupled with the Deerstalker carbine as one of the year's two
biggest developments- few significant innovations appeared among
1961's handguns.

LIVERY STABLE- J& VERNON, PROP"& Coaching had declined

considerably by 1905, but the sign was still there, near the old
Wells Fargo building in San Francisco, creaking in the fog as it
had for thirty years. John Vernon had had all the patronage he cared
for- he had prospered, but he could not retire from horsedom. Coaching
was in his blood. He had two interests in life: the pleasures
of the table and driving. Twice a week he drove his tallyho over the
Santa Cruz road, upland and through the redwood forest, with orchards
below him at one hand, and glimpses of the Pacific at the other. The
journey back he made along the coast road, traveling hell-for-leather,
every lantern of the tallyho ablaze. The southward route
was the classic run in California, and the most fashionable. His patronage
on this stretch was made up largely of San Franciscans- regulars,
most of them, and trenchermen like himself. They did not complain
at the inhuman hour of starting (seven in the morning), nor of the
tariff, which was reasonable since it covered everything but the tobacco.
Breakfast was at the Palace Hotel, luncheon was somewhere in the
mountain forest, and dinner was either at Boulder Creek or at Santa
Cruz. Gazing too long at the scenery could be tiring, so
halts were contrived between meals. Then the Chinese hostler, who rode
with Vernon on the box, would break open a hamper and produce filets
of smoked bass or sturgeon, sandwiches, pickled eggs, and a rum sangaree
to be heated over a spirit lamp. In spring and in autumn
the run was made for a group of botanists which included an old friend
of mine. They gathered roots, bulbs, odd ferns, leaves, and bits of
resin from the rare Santa Lucia fir, which exists only on a forty-five
mile strip on the westerly side of these mountains. In the Spanish
days Franciscan monks roamed here to collect the resin for incense.
It yields a fragrance as Orphic as that of the pastilles of Malabar.
Vernon was serviceable on the botanical field trips, but he could
arrange no schedule with the cooks, and he was glad when the trips dropped
off, and the botanists began to motor out by themselves.
My friend often breakfasted with Vernon on the morning of the regular
tallyho run. This was an honor, like dining with a captain at his private
table. Vernon's office adjoined the stable, and the walls were
adorned with brightly colored lithographs, the folk art of the period.
They advertised harness polish, liniments, Ball's Rubber Boots,
Green River Whiskey, Hood's Sarsaparilla, patent medicines,
shoe blacking, and chewing tobacco. The hostler would have the
table ready and a pot of coffee hissing on the stove; then a porter
from Manning's Fish House would trot in with a tray on his head.
It was draped with snowy napkins that kept hot a platter of oyster
salt roast and a mound of corn fritters. Vernon was consummately fond
of oysters, and Manning's had been famous for them since the Civil
War. Oyster salt roast- oysters on the half shell, cooked on a bed
of coarse salt that kept them hot when served- was a standby at Manning's.
Its early morning patrons were coachmen, who fortified themselves
for the day with that delicacy. In the 1890's the
Palace Hotel began serving an oyster dish named after its manager, John
C& Kirkpatrick. This dish much resembles the oysters Rockefeller
made famous by Antoine's in New Orleans, though the Palace
chef announced it as a variant of Manning's roast oysters. (Gastronomes
have long argued about which came first, the Palace's or Antoine's.
Antoine's held as mandatory a splash of absinthe or Pernod
on the parsley or spinach which was used for the underbedding. The
Kirkpatrick version holds liqueur as optional.) Vernon, however,
held out for plain oyster roast, and plenty of it, unadorned by herbs
or any seasoning but salt, though he did fancy a bit of lemon.
After the meal, he and his guests went out to inspect the rig; this
was merely a ritual, to please all hands concerned. The tallyho had
cost Vernon $2,300. A replica of two coaches made in England for the
Belmont Club in the East, and matchless west of the Rockies, it
was the despair of whips on the Santa Cruz run. One could shave in
the reflection of its French-polished panels, and its axles were greased
like those of roulette wheels. The horses were groomed to a high
gloss; departing, they stepped solemnly with knees lifted to the jaw,
for they had been trained to drag at important funerals. But
for the start of the Santa Cruz run, the whip fell. The clients boarded
the tallyho at the Palace promptly at seven. They had been fed
a hunting breakfast, so called because a kedgeree, the dish identified
with fox hunting, was on the bill. There are many ways of making a
kedgeree, every one of which is right. Here is an original kedgeree
recipe from the Family Club's kitchen:

#CLUB KEDGEREE#

Flake
(for three) a cupful of cold boiled haddock, mix with a cupful of cooked
rice, two minced hard-boiled eggs, some buttery white sauce done
with cream, cayenne, pepper, salt, a pinch of curry, a tablespoonful of
minced onion fried, and a bit of anchovy. Heat and serve hot on toast.
##

The omelet named for Ernest Arbogast, the Palace's chef,

was even more in demand. For decades it was the most popular dish
served in the Ladies' Grill at breakfast, and it is one of the few
old Palace dishes that still survive. Native California oysters,
salty and piquant, as coppery as Delawares and not much larger than a
five-cent piece, went into it. The original formula goes thus:

#OMELET
ARBOGAST#

Fry in butter a small minced onion, rub with a tablespoonful

of flour, add half a cup of cream, six beaten eggs, pepper,
celery salt, a teaspoonful of minced chives, a dash of cayenne, and a
pinch of nutmeg. A jigger of dry Sherry follows, and as the mixture
stiffens, in go a hundred of the little oysters. Louis Sherry
once stayed a fortnight at the Palace, and he was so pleased with omelet
Arbogast that he introduced it at his restaurant in New York.
J& Pierpont Morgan had come in his private train to San Francisco,
to attend an Episcopal convention, and brought the restaurateur
with him. As things happened, Morgan was installed in the Nob Hill
residence of a magnate friend, whose kitchen swarmed with cooks of approved
talent. Sherry remained in his hotel suite, where he amused himself
as best he could. Twice he left everything to his entourage, and
fled to make the Santa Cruz tour under Vernon's guidance.

In the grand court of the Palace, notable for its tiers of Moorish
galleries that looked down on the maelstrom of vehicles below, Vernon's
station was at the entrance. It was a post of honor, held inviolate
for him; he had the primacy among the coachmen. Of majestic build,
rubicund and slash-mouthed, he resembled the late General Winfield
Scott, who was said to be the most imposing general of his century,
if not of all centuries. Vernon wore a gray tall hat, a gardenia,
and maroon Wellington boots that glistened like currant jelly.

Promptly at seven he would clatter out of the court with twelve in

the tallyho. He had style: he held his reins in a loose bunch at the
third button of his checked Epsom surtout, and when the horses leaned
at a curve, as if bent by the force of a gale, he leaned with them.
They cantered down the peninsula, not slackening until the coach reached
Woodside where the Santa Cruz uplands begin. The road
maps of the region have changed since 1905; inns have burned down, moved
elsewhere, or taken other names. Once on the road (and especially
if the passengers were all regulars and masculine), the schedule meant
nothing. An agreeable ease suffused Vernon and the passengers of
the tallyho, from which there issued clouds of smoke. Vernon would tilt
his hat over one ear as he lounged with his feet on the dashboard,
indulging in a huge cigar. The horses moved at a clump; they were no
more on parade than was their driver; one fork of the road was as
good as another. The Santa Cruz mountains sprawl over three counties,
and the roads twist through sky-tapping redwoods down whose furrowed
columns ripple streams of rain, even when heat bakes the Santa Clara
valley below at the left. The water splashes into shoulder-high tracts
of fernery. You arrive there in seersucker, and feel you were half-witted
not to bring a mackintosh. Vernon kept an account book
with a list of all the establishments that he thought worthy of patronage.
A number of them must have fallen into disfavor; they were
struck out with remarks in red ink, denouncing both the cooks and the
management. He was copious in his praise of those that served food that
was good to eat. The horses seemed to know these by instinct, he used
to say: such places invariably had stables with superior feed bins.

There was Wright's, for one, lost amongst trees, its wide
verandas strewn with rockers. Many of its sojourners were devoted
to seclusion and quiet, and lived there to the end of their days. It
was
the haunt of writer Ambrose Bierce, who admired its redwoods. Acorns
from the great oaks fed the small black pigs (akin to Berkshires),
whose "carcass sweepstakes" were renowned. Their ham butts, cured
in oak-log smoke, were also esteemed when roasted or boiled, and served
with this original sauce:

#WRIGHT'S DEVIL SAUCE#

Put into
a saucepan a cupful of the baked ham gravy, or of the boiled ham liquor,
with a half stick of butter, three teaspoonfuls of made mustard,
and two mashed garlic cloves. Contribute also an onion, a peeled tomato
and two pickled gherkins, and a mashed lime. After this has simmered
an hour, add two tablespoons each of Worcestershire, catsup, and
chutney, two pickled walnuts, and a pint of Sherry. Then simmer fifteen
minutes longer. ##

Every winter a kegful of this sauce was made

and placed at the end of a row of four other kegs in the cellar, so
that when its turn came, it was properly mellowed. Vineyards
and orchards also grew around Wright's, and deer were rather a nuisance;
they leaped six-foot fences with the agility of panthers. But
no one complained when they wound up, regardless of season, in venison
pies. No one complained of the white wine either: at this altitude
of two thousand feet, grapes acquire a dryness and the tang of gunflint.
(The Almaden vineyards have now climbed to this height.) Apple
trees grew there also. Though creeks in the Santa Cruz mountains
flow brimful the year round and it is forever spring, the apples that
grow there have a wintry crackle. Dwellers thereabouts preferred
to get their apple pies at the local bakery, which had a brick oven
fired with redwood billets. The merit of the pie, Vernon believed,
was due more to its making than to the waning heat of the oven. The recipe,
which he got from the baker, and wrote down in his ledger, is basically
this:

#WRIGHT'S APPLE PIE#

Peel, core, and slice across

enough apples to make a dome in the pie tin, and set aside. In a
saucepan put sufficient water to cover them, an equal amount of sugar,
a sliced lemon, a tablespoonful of apricot preserve or jam, a pinch each
of clove and nutmeg, and a large bay leaf. Let this boil gently for
twenty minutes, then strain. Poach the apples in this syrup for twelve
minutes, drain them, and cool. Set the apples in the pastry-lined
tin, spread over them three tablespoonfuls of softened butter,
with as much brown sugar, a sprinkling of nutmeg, and a fresh bay leaf,
then lay on a cover of pastry, and gild it with beaten yolk of egg.

THOSE WHO have never traveled the width and length of this
land cannot conceive, on the basis of textbook description alone, the
overwhelming space and variety of this country held together under one
government. The miracle of democratic America comes home to one most
strongly only when one has seen the endless Great Plains of the
Midwest; the sky-reaching peaks of the Northwest mountains; the
smoke-filled, art-filled, drama-filled life of the great cities of the
East; the lush and historic charm of the South. Now, to add to the
already unbelievable extremes found in one nation, we have the two
new states of Hawaii and Alaska. To hope to cover just one
region of this land and to enjoy all of its sights and events and, of
course, to bring back pictures of your experiences, requires advance planning.
For this reason, <U&S& Camera> has prepared this special
U&S&A& vacation feature. We divided the country into five
regions plus Hawaii and Alaska and in each is included a general
description of the area plus specific recommendations of places and events
to cover. Any special photographic requirements are also given.

Use this section to plan now to make the most of your vacation
in photogenic America.

#THE NORTHEAST#

BIRTHPLACE of the
nation, the Northeast offers historic battlefields; lovely old villages
and a rugged seashore among its many worthwhile sights. The rolling
farms of Maryland, the peerless metropolis of New York City,
the verdant mountains of Vermont can all be included in your Northeast
vacation. By automobile from New York, for example, you can
take a one or two-day tour to Annapolis, Maryland to see the colonial
homes and the U&S& Naval Academy (where you can shoot the
dress parade on Wednesdays); to Washington, D&C&, for an eye-filling
tour of the city; or to Lancaster, Pa&, the center of
the Pennsylvania Dutch country; Philadelphia with its historic buildings
and nearby Valley Forge; to West Point, N&Y&, the
famous military academy in a beautiful setting on the Hudson River.

New England deserves as much of your vacation time as you can

afford with such areas as Cape Cod providing wonderful beaches, artists'
colonies and quaint townships. From here you can easily include
a side trip to the old whaling port of Nantucket, Massachusetts,
which looks just as it must have two centuries ago. At Sturbridge
Village, Massachusetts, you'll find a completely-restored New
England town. North to Acadia National Park, Maine, with views
of a rockbound coast and dark, magnificent forests. One of the
most exciting ways to end a Northeast vacation would be with a week
in New York City. Return through New England, stopping for a visit
to Lake Champlain where you can take a boat ride and go to Ethan
Allen Park. There you'll witness a view which includes the Adirondack
Mts& and the Winooski River. Now you're ready for
a whirlwind sightseeing tour of America's most exciting city. The
skyline, the bridges, Broadway, and the Staten Island ferry are
only a few of the spots to put on your "must" list for New York
City.

#PHOTOGRAPHING IN THE NORTHEAST#

Some tips for shooting in

Northeastern locales: In New York City don't miss coverage
of the United Nations. These striking, modernistic buildings on the
East River are open to the public and every weekday guided tours are
available. Pictures can be taken in the public areas and when on tours.
However, the use of tripods is not allowed. Photos of Conference
Rooms and the General Assembly Hall can be made when these rooms
are not being used for meetings. Flash is allowed, subject to above
restrictions. Around New England, you'll no doubt want a
color shot of one of the picturesque lighthouses. Be careful here not
to overexpose this subject since they are extremely bright and
light-reflecting.
In color, 1/50th of a second between **f and **f will do for
bright, frontal sunlight.

#THE SOUTH#

THE SOUTHERN United

States, extending from Florida in the east to Texas in the west,
still maintains its unique flavor of gracious living and historical elegance.
It encompasses in its expanse areas where the natural beauty
encourages a vacation of quiet contemplation, on the one hand, to places
where entertainment and spectacles of all sorts have been provided
for the tourist with camera. Of special interest this anniversary
year of the war between the states are the many Civil War battlefields
where, likely as not, you'll catch some memorial re-enactments.
Among the locales to visit are Shiloh, Tennessee; Lookout Mountain,
Tennessee; Vicksburg, Mississippi; Richmond, Virginia;
Petersburg, Virginia, and Fredericksburg, Virginia. Florida
provides tropical scenes unequalled in the United States. At
Cypress Gardens special bleachers are set up for photographers at water-ski
shows and lovely models pose for pictures in garden settings.
Silver Springs features glass-bottom boat rides and in Everglades National
Park there are opportunities to photograph rare wildlife. Miami
Beach and surroundings feature fabulous "hotel row", palm-studded
beaches plus the Miami Seaquarium and Parrot Jungle.
One of the most delightful spots in a southern tour is the city of New
Orleans. The famous old French and Spanish buildings with their
elaborate wrought iron balconies and the narrow streets of the Latin
Quarter present an Old World scene. For restoration of early
American life the places to visit are Williamsburg, Jamestown and
Yorktown, Virginia. Another Virginia sight and a photographic adventure
are the Luray Caverns, lit by photofloodlights. The
great state of Texas offers metropolitan attractions such as the Dallas
Fair Park with its art and natural history museums. In contrast
are the vast open stretches of ranch country and oil wells. In San
Antonio visit the famous Alamo and photograph 18th Century Spanish
buildings and churches. The Great Smoky Mountains is another
area of the South well worth a visit. Along the 127-mile route through
Great Smoky Mountains National Park you can photograph the
breath-taking peaks, gorges and valleys which come into view at every
turn. Gatlinburg, Tennessee, is the center of this area. Another scenic
spot in Tennessee is Chattanooga where the Rock City Gardens
are not to be missed. Beautiful homes and gardens are trademarks
of the South and cities particularly noted for them are Charleston,
S&C&, Natchez, Miss&, and Savannah, Ga&. At Charlottesville,
Va&, shoot Monticello and the beautiful buildings of the
University.

#PICTURING THE SOUTH#

Foliage is the outstanding photo

subject in many of the Southern locales mentioned above and some
specific tips on how and where to shoot it are in order. For example,
the Chamber of Commerce of Gatlinburg, Tennessee, sponsors special
camera tours into the Great Smoky Mountains to get pictures of the
profusion of wild flowers flourishing in these wooded regions.

Exposure problems may occur in these forest areas where uneven lighting
results from shafts of sunlight filtering through the overhead branches.
Best solution is to find an area that is predominantly sunlight
or shade. In any instance, you should determine the exposure according
to the type of light which falls on most of the subject area.

Try some closeups on Southern blossoms to provide a welcome contrast

with the many long-view scenics you'll be making. For
shooting the interiors of the famous ante-bellum Southern mansions make
sure your equipment includes a tripod. Enough daylight is usually
available from the windows, but if you have synchronized flash- use
it. For some unusual photographic subjects, if your vacation takes
you nearby, try these events: the 600-mile auto race in Charlotte,
N& C&, on May 27; the Florida Folk Festival, White Springs,
May 5-7; Singing on the Mountain in Linville, North Carolina,
on June 25. Peak action photography is your goal at Miami's
Seaquarium and the Cypress Gardens waterskiing events.

#THE
MIDWEST#

A PLEASANT start to your midwestern vacation is a few

days spent in cosmopolitan Chicago. Lake Michigan offers swimming
and pictures which combine cityscapes with beaches. A visit to Chicago's
museums and a stroll around broad Michigan Avenue will unfold
many photogenic subjects to the alert photographer. Wisconsin
Dells, where fantastically scenic rocks carved by the Wisconsin River
are overgrown with fern and other foliage, rates a stopover when
traveling from Chicago. The farmlands forming the heart of America
stretch out across the Midwest from Chicago. In North Dakota
the strangely beautiful Badlands will challenge you to translate its
wonder on to film. While here, visit Theodore Roosevelt National
Park for its spectacular scenery. Another spot with an image-provoking
name is the Black Hills where you can visit the old frontier
mining town of Deadwood. The Black Hills Passion Play is produced
every summer and is a pageant worth seeing and shooting.
Of course, while in this vicinity you won't want to miss a visit to
Mount Rushmore National Memorial where on the side of a mountain
are the famous sculptures of Presidents Washington, Lincoln, Jefferson
and Theodore Roosevelt. In Missouri (which we are including
in our general Midwest region) you can glance into Mark Twain's
birthplace at Hannibal, see the landmarks of his life and writings
and visualize where Huck Finn hatched his boyish mischief.

Similarly in Illinois there is Lincoln country to be seen- his

tomb and other landmarks. Minnesota, fabled land of waters, is
in itself, ideal vacationland,
having within its borders 10,000 lakes!
Itasca State Park, where the Mississippi River begins, is one
of the outstanding tourist spots in Minnesota. Mementoes of the
Old West recall the days of Wyatt Earp in Dodge City, Nebraska,
where present-day cowboys add a colorful human interest note to your
vacation shooting. Of current interest is Abilene, Kansas,
the birthplace of ex-President Eisenhower. There's a museum here
and also Old Abilene Town, a reconstruction of the cattle boomtown
of the 70's and 80's. For a resort area, Mackinack Island,
Michigan, is the place to visit. It truly relives another age for
the inhabitants use carriages rather than autos and old British and
French forts are left intact for tourists to visit and record.

#PICTURES
OF THE MIDWEST#

Night scenes will add an exciting touch to

your vacation travelogue and what better place to take them then along
Chicago's Lake Shore Drive? Just after sunset is a good time
to record the city lights in color since you get a "fill-in" light
from the sky. Another memo for sightseers: bring your camera
along to museums. Photos of historic dioramas of the area you visit
will add depth and background to your vacation photo story. Again,
be sure your tripod is handy for those sometimes-necessary time exposures.

Special events and their dates which will make interesting

shooting in the Midwest area, include the following: A re-enactment
of the Battle of Lexington, May 18th at Lexington, Missouri;
the world-renowned 500-mile auto race at Indianapolis, Indiana,
plus a festival from May 27-30; "Song of Hiawatha", in
Elgin, Illinois, from June 20 to 24th. Michigan offers the lovely
Tulip Festival in Holland, Michigan, May 12-14; the ~USGA
Open in Birmingham from June 15-17; and the International Freedom
Festival in Detroit, June 29-July 4. For early vacationers
there's the fun-filled Fishing Derby in Hot Springs, Arkansas,
April 19-23, and the Arkansas Band Festival in Hot Springs,
April 20-22.
#THE WEST#

A WESTERN VACATION is practically

synonymous with a visit to at least one of the magnificent national parks
in this area. A tour of several of them is possible in a two-week
vacation while a stay at just one of these natural beauty spots can
be of equal reward. In California is located one of the most
popular of the national parks- Yosemite. Among its most spectacular
features are its falls, the highest being Upper Yosemite which drops
2,425 feet. The Sequoia Grove presents another unique aspect of
Yosemite, for these ancient giant trees are a sight never to be forgotten.

In the Utah area are Zion National Park and Bryce Canyon
National Park. Fantastic colors are to be seen in the fanciful
formations of eroded rock which loom out of the semiarid country in
both parks. Colorado's Grand Canyon, probably the most famous
landmark of the United States, can be the highpoint of your Western
vacation.

BUILT UPON seven hills, Istanbul, like Rome, is one of

the most ancient cities in the world, filled with splendor and contrast.
It is an exotic place, so different from the ordinary that the casual
tourist is likely to see at first only the contrast and the ugliness
of narrow streets lined with haphazard houses. At the moment, many
of these are being pulled down. Whole blocks are disappearing and more
are scheduled to vanish to make room for wide boulevards that will
show off its treasures to better advantage- the great domes and graceful
spires of its mosques, the panorama of the Bosphorus and the Golden
Horn. Even when they are finished, however, the contrast will
remain, for Istanbul is the only city in the world that is built upon
two continents. For almost 3,000 years Europe and Asia have rubbed
shoulders in its streets. Founded in the Ninth Century B&C&
it was called Byzantium 200 years later when Byzas, ruler of
the Megarians, expanded the settlement and named it after himself. About
a thousand years after that, when the Roman Empire was divided,
it became capital of the Eastern section. On May 11, 330 A&D&,
its name was changed again, this time to Constantinople after its
emperor, Constantine. In 1453 when the last vestige of ancient Roman
power fell to the Turks, the city officially shifted religions-
although the Patriarch, or Pope, of the Orthodox Church continued
to live there, and still does- and became the capital of the Ottoman
Empire. When <that> was broken up after the First World War,
its name was changed once more. Rich in Christian and Moslem art,
Istanbul is today a fascinating museum of East and West that
recently
became a seaside resort as well with the development of new beaches on
the Bosphorus and the Sea of Marmara only a short distance from the
center of town. Easy to get to, and becoming more popular every year,
it is only fourteen hours from New York by Pan American World
Airways jet, four hours from Rome.

#START OF TOUR#

Most of the
sights lie in the old section across the Golden Horn from the modern
hotels. I started my tour of them at the Turkish Government Tourist
Office, next to Pan American's office on the left as you enter
the driveway that leads to the Hilton Hotel. From there I turned
left along Cumhuriyet Cadesi past more hotels and a park on the left,
Republic Gardens, and came in a few moments to Taksim Square, one
of the hubs of the city, with the Monument of the Republic, erected
in 1928, in its center. Directly across from the Gardens I
found a bus stop sign for ~T 4 and rode it down to the Bosphorus,
with the sports center on my left just before I reached the water and
the entrance to Dolmabahce Palace immediately after that. There
the bus turned right along the Bosphorus, past ocean liners at anchor,
to Galata Bridge over the entrance to the Golden Horn, a brown sweep
of water that empties into the Bosphorus. Across the bridge on
the left I saw St& Sophia with its sturdy brown minarets and to the
right of them the slenderer spires of the Blue Mosque. On
the other side of the Golden Horn I rode through Eminonu Square,
with Yeni Cami, or the New Mosque, which dates from the Seventeenth
Century, just across from the entrance to the bridge. Passing it,
the bus climbed a hill, with the covered spice bazaar on the right and
Pandelli's, a famous and excellent restaurant, above it. At the
top of the hill the buildings on the left gave way to a park. I got
off there, crossed the street, walked ahead with St& Sophia on my
left, the Blue Mosque on my right, and in a moment came to the entrance
of St& Sophia. Erected on the site of pagan temples and
three previous St& Sophias, the first of which was begun by Constantine,
this fourth church was started by Justinian in 532 and completed
twenty years later. On his first trip to the finished structure
he boasted that he had built a temple grander than Solomon's in Jerusalem.
A few years later the dome fell in. Nevertheless, it remained
one of the most splendid churches of the Eastern Empire, where
the Byzantine Emperors were crowned. After the Turks conquered the
city in 1453 they converted it to a mosque, adding the stubby minarets.
In the second half of the Sixteenth Century, Sinan, the great architect
who is the Michelangelo of the East, designed the massive buttresses
that now help support the dome. With the birth of the Turkish
Republic after the First World War, St& Sophia became a museum,
and the ancient mosaics, which were plastered over by the Moslems,
whose religion forbids pictures in holy places, have been restored.

Inside over the first door I saw one of these, which shows
Constantine offering the city to the Virgin Mary and Justinian offering
the temple. On the columns around the immense dome are round plaques
with Arabic writing. The eight green columns, I learned, came
from the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus, the others, red, from the Temple
of the Sun at Heliopolis. Beneath the dome I saw the
spot where the Byzantine Emperors were crowned, a bit of floor protected
now by a wooden fence. Behind this is a minber or Moslem pulpit
and near it a raised platform with golden grillwork, where the emperors
and, after them, the sultans, sat. Directly opposite is the emperor's
door, through which they entered the building. Outside
St& Sophia I walked through the flower garden in front of it, with
the Blue Mosque ahead on my left. Across the street on my right I
saw the Hippodrome, now a park. It was laid out in 196 for chariot
races and other public games. Statues and other monuments that stood
there were stolen, mostly by the waves of Crusaders. At
the beginning of the Hippodrome I saw the Kaiser's Fountain, an
ugly octagonal building with a glass dome, built in 1895 by the German
Emperor, and on my left, directly across from it, the tomb of Sultan
Ahmet, who constructed the Blue Mosque, more properly known by
his name. Just before coming to the mosque entrance I crossed
the street, entered the Hippodrome, and walked ahead to the Obelisk
of Theodosius, originally erected in Heliopolis in Egypt about 1,600
B&C& by Thutmose, who also built those now in New York,
London and Rome at the Lateran. This one was set up here in 390 A&D&
on a pedestal, the faces of which are carved with statues of
the emperor and his family watching games in the Hippodrome, done so
realistically that the obelisk itself is included in them. Beyond
it I noted a small green column, about twelve feet below the present
ground level- the Serpentine Column, three entwined serpents,
which once stood at the Temple of Apollo at Delphi, Greece. Near
the end of the Hippodrome I came upon the Built Column, a truncated
obelisk of blocks, all that remains of a monument that once rivalled
the Colossus of Rhodes.

#MAGNIFICENT MOSQUE#

Retracing my steps
to the Mosque of Sultan Ahmet, only one with six minarets, I entered
the courtyard, with a gallery supported by pointed arches running
around it and a fountain in the middle. One of the most beautiful
buildings in Istanbul, it was constructed in the early years of the Seventeenth
Century, with a huge central dome, two half domes that seem
to cascade down from it, and smaller full domes around the gallery.
The round minarets, tall and graceful, rise from rectangular bases and
have three platforms from which the muezzin can chant his call to prayer.
Inside, the walls are covered with blue and white tile, the floor
with red and cream carpets. Back at the Kaiser's Fountain,
I walked left to the streetcar stop and rode up the hill- any
car will do- past the Column of Constantine, also known as the Burnt
Column, at the top on my right. It stands in the middle of what
was once the Forum of Constantine, who brought it from Rome.

I stayed on the car for a few minutes until, turning right, it entered
a huge square, Bayezit, with the Bayezit Mosque on the right and
the gate to the university just beyond it. There I got off, crossed
the square, and on the side directly opposite the gate found a good
restaurant, hard to come by in this part of the city. Called the Marmara
Gazinosu, it is on the third floor, with signs pointing the way
there, and has a terrace overlooking the Sea of Marmara. After lunch,
in the arcade on my left just before reaching the street I found a
pastry shop that sells some of the best baklava- a sweet, flaky cake-
in Istanbul. It's a great favorite of the university students,
and I joined them there for dessert. Taking the streetcar back
to Kaiser's Fountain, I walked ahead, then left down the street
opposite St& Sophia and just beyond the corner came to a small,
one-story building with a red-tile roof, which is the entrance to the
Sunken Palace. Actually an underground cistern, its roof supported
by rows and rows of pillars, it was built by Justinian in the Sixth
Century to supply the palace with water. There is still water in it.
I found it fairly depressing and emerged almost immediately.
Outside I walked past the entrance to St& Sophia, turned left at
the end of it, and continued toward a gate in the wall ahead. Just
before reaching it I came to a grey and brown stone building that looks
somewhat like an Oriental pagoda, with Arabic lettering in gold and
colored tile decorations- the Fountain of Sultan Ahmet.

Going through the Imperial Gate in the wall, I entered the grounds
of Topkapi Palace, home of the Sultans and nerve center of the vast
Ottoman Empire, and walked along a road toward another gate in the
distance, past the Church of St& Irene, completed by Constantine
in 330 A&D& on my left, and then, just outside the second
gate, I saw a spring with a tap in the wall on my right- the Executioner's
Spring, where he washed his hands and his sword after beheading
his victims. Passing through the gate, with towers on either
side once used as prisons, I entered a huge square surrounded by
buildings, and on the wall to my right found a general plan of the grounds,
with explanations in English for each building. There are a
good many of them. At one time about 10,000 people lived there.

Following arrowed signs, I veered right toward the former kitchens,

complete with chimneys, which now house one of the world's greatest
collections of Chinese porcelain and a fabulous array of silver dinner
services. Next to it is a copper section, with cooking utensils
and a figure of the chief cook in an elaborate, floor-length robe.

In the court once more, I went right toward the Reception House,
a long one-story building with a deep portico. Going through a door
into another small court, I had the Throne Room directly in front.
I walked to the right around it to buildings containing illuminated
manuscripts and came to the Treasury, which houses such things as coffee
cups covered with diamonds, jewelled swords, rifles glittering with
diamonds and huge divan-like thrones as large as small beds, on which
the sultans sat cross-legged. They are made of gold and covered with
emeralds, pearls and other jewels. Taking the path behind
the Throne Room to the building directly beyond it, the Portrait Gallery,
I went right at the end of it, through a garden to a small building
at the back- a sitting room furnished with low blue divans, its
floor covered with carpets, its ceiling painted with gold squares and
floral designs.

<DO> start fires one or two hours ahead of time to obtain

a
lasting bed of glowing coals. Keep ashes from one barbecue to the next
to sprinkle over coals if they are too hot, and to stop flames that
arise from melting grease. <Do> line barbecue fire bowl
with
heavy foil to reflect heat. <Don't> forget to buy a plastic
pastry brush for basting with sauces. Clean it meticulously in boiling
water and detergent, rinse thoroughly. <Do> build a wall
of glowing coals six to eight inches in front of meat that is barbecued
on an electric spit. Make use of the back of the barbecue or of the
hood for heating vegetables, sauces and such. <Don't>
fail to shorten cooking time by the use of aluminum foil cut slightly
larger than the surface of steaks and chops. Sear on both sides then
cover meat loosely with heat reflecting foil for juiciest results.

<Do> avoid puncturing or cutting into meats to test them. If doubtful

about a steak, boldly cut it in half. If necessary to replace
both halves on grill, sear cuts and allot extra time. For roasts, insert
meat thermometer diagonally so it does not rest on bone. Also make
sure thermometer does not touch the revolving spit or hit the coals.

<Don't> practice a new recipe on guests. Have a test-run

on the family first, to be sure timing and seasoning are right.

<Do> buy meat the day or the day before you intend to cook it. Keep
it no longer than 36 hours before cooking, and keep it in the coldest
(but non-freezing) compartment of the refrigerator. <Don't>
plan meals that are too complicated. Limit yourself to good meat
and drink, with bread, salad, corn or potatoes as accessories. Keep
the desserts simple; fruit does nicely. <Do> whatever kitchen
work, such as fixing a salad, preparing garlic bread, or making
a marinade sauce, ahead of time. When you start the outdoor performance,
you can stay outdoors without a dozen running trips into the kitchen.
(This goes for getting a drink tray ready, and for having a big cooler
full of ice on hand long before the party begins.)
<Don't>
think you have to start with the most expensive equipment in the
world. The simplest grill (pan type) or inexpensive hibachi can make
you a chef. You need tongs to handle meat; long forks for turning
potatoes and corn; heavy foil on hand at all times. And lots of hot
pads! <Do> keep the grill high enough above the fire so that
when fat from meat drips down and flares up, flames cannot reach the
meat. <Don't> forget to have a supply of Melamine plates,
bowls, cups, saucers, and platters for outdoor use. Made of the world's
toughest unbreakable plastic, Melamine dinnerware comes in almost
400 different patterns and dozens of colors. There is even one
set that has "barbecue" written on it. <Do> without fancy
tablecloths. It's cheaper to buy Wall-Tex and cover your outdoor
table. Or buy half a dozen lengths of oilcloth and change patterns
for different kinds of barbecues. Oilcloth only costs about 79~c a
yard for the very best. Tougher than plastic, it wears well.
<Don't> forget- when you take to the hills or the beach- that
your cooler, which you might have used for wine- or beer-cooling on your
terrace or back yard, is indispensable for carrying liquid refreshments.
There are many varieties of coolers and they serve many purposes.
With them, you can carry steaks and hamburgers at refrigerator temperatures,
and also get your frozen food for stews and chowders, to the
marina or picnic, in A-1 condition. <Do> use paper napkins;
lots of them. Except when you prepare "do it yourself" shish
kebob or a lobster roast. Then you'll want terry cloth towels
for mopping up. <Don't> think barbecue cooking is just sometimes,
or seasonal. It's year-round, and everywhere. In the winter,
hibachi in the kitchen or grill over the logs of the fireplace. Even
use your portable electric or gas grill in the winter, inside. Summertime
supper, outside, is a natural. You'll find, once your technique
is perfected, that you can cook on a boat with a simple Bernz-O-Matic.

<Do> buy all-purpose mugs or cups. Get copper or

earthenware mugs that keep beer chilled or soup hot. Be sure to get
a few more than you need. You will discover you keep the sauce for basting
meat in one, use six for drinks, serve soup or coffee in another
half-dozen- and need one more to mix the salad dressing. <Don't>
forget the joys of a meal on the road. If you travel over the
vast U&S&A& you will, no doubt, discover that feeding is an
expensive business. Decide in the beginning to put your barbecue equipment
to work. You <can> take it with you **h a picnic bag, a
grill,
a cooler for soft drinks and beer, and for frozen convenience foods. Eat
in a restaurant or motel mornings and evenings; or just evenings.
Turn off at any one of the marked picnic areas (gasoline companies
have touring service bureaus that issue booklets on national parks to
tell you where you have barbecue facilities) and- with soft drinks
cooled from morning loading up, hamburger, buns, an array of relishes,
and fresh fruit- your lunch is 75% cheaper than at a restaurant,
and 100% more fun. You need a little stove, a coffee pot and a stew
pot; maybe a skillet, a basket of essentials like salt, pepper, plates,
forks, knives and a can opener. As you pull out of your motel or
national park home-for-the-night, visit a market and buy just what you
need for the next meal. For 25~c load up the cooler with ice and
keep cool pop in the car.

#SIMPLE MEAT DISHES#

SPICE is a fact of
life in the U&S&A&. You only have to think of franks and sausages
to know what I mean. Go a step further and list all the wonderful
barbecue basics- cervelat, salami, Vienna sausages, mettwurst,
bratwurst, bockwurst, knackwurst, Bologna, pepperoni, blutwurst- and
you have a long list of easy specialties. Threaded on a skewer with
new boiled potatoes, a bit of green pepper, a fresh white mushroom-
any one of these spiced meats makes a man a cook, and a meal a feast.

Sure, for the most of us, a frankfurter is the favorite. A

story goes that a certain Herr Feuchtwanger of St& Louis, around
1883 served his sausages (grilled) and mustard to his fancy customers.
So that his customers should not soil their hands, Feuchtwanger issued
white gloves. Discovery that the gloves frequently left with the
customers made the wise peddler of spiced sausage-meat come upon a compromise.
He had a bakery make buns sized to fit his franks. Years later,
franks-in-buns were accepted as the "first to go" at the New
York Polo Grounds. The nations's number one picnic treat
is the skinless frankfurter- toasted over a bonfire on the beach or,
more sedately, charcoal broiled on a portable grill. Either way it's
hard to beat in flavor as well as ease of preparation. To make the
picnic frank come close to perfection, remember these tips:

-Score each frankfurter in four or five places about a third of

the way through. This permits the juices to permeate the meat during
cooking. -Relishes are as vital to the success of the frank
as are buns. Bring along the conventional ones- catsup, pickle relish,
mustard, mayonnaise- plus a few extras, such as tangy barbecue
sauce, chive cream cheese, or horse-radish for the brave ones in the crowd.

-Using a portable grill permits you to toast the buns,

too. Watch closely while browning them, as it doesn't take long.

-An unusual flavor can be achieved by marinating the franks

in French dressing or a mixture of honey, lemon juice and brown sugar
prior to the picnic. Broil or toast as usual. Contrary to
popular opinion, "a la mode" doesn't mean "with ice cream"-
it just means, in the latest style. Here are a couple of the latest,
highly styled ways to fix skinless franks in your own back yard!
You'll
have the neighbor's eyes popping as well as their mouths watering!

_JIFFY BARBECUES_ {1 cup chili sauce 1/3 cup water 1 tablespoon

barbecue sauce 2 teaspoons prepared mustard 1/2 pound chipped,
spiced ham 6 sandwich buns, heated} Combine first 4 ingredients
in saucepan; heat thoroughly. Add ham; heat. Serve on buns.
Makes 6 barbecues. _HOT HIBACHI FRANKS_ You'll never hear "sayonara",
the Japanese word for goodbye, from your guests when you
give a hibachi party. The fun of toasting their own sausages over the
small Oriental charcoal burners and dipping them in tasty sauces
will
keep your group busy- try it and see! _CANNED COCKTAIL FRANKFURTERS_

_SWEET-SOUR SAUCE_ {1 large onion, chopped fine 2 tablespoons

salad oil 1 8-oz& can crushed pineapple and 1/2 cup of the juice
1/4 cup brown sugar 2 tablespoons vinegar 1 tablespoon prepared mustard
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce} _PINEAPPLE CHUNKS_ _MUSTARD
CREAM_ {2 tablespoons dry mustard Water 1/2 cup heavy
cream, whipped Salt Paprika} Spear canned cocktail franks
with picks. Also spear pineapple chunks and place in separate bowl.

Make sauces ahead. Sweet-sour sauce can be kept warm over a second
hibachi or chafing dish while charcoal in broiler is reaching glowing
coal stage. Mustard cream, used as alternate dip for franks and
pineapple tidbits, tastes best when served at room temperature.
For sweet-sour sauce, cook onion in oil until soft. Add remaining ingredients
and bring to a boil. Simmer about 10 minutes, and keep warm
for serving. To prepare mustard cream, blend mustard with enough
water to make a thin paste. Fold into whipped cream and add a dash
of salt and sprinkling of paprika. _TRIM-YOUR-OWN-FRANKS_ A back-yard
picnic with grilled frankfurters and a selection of frankfurter
trimmings is a fine way to entertain guests this summer. Be sure to
have plenty of frankfurters and buns on hand. Some tasty frank toppings
are chili con carne, Coney Island sauce and savory sauerkraut. Serve
the chili and kraut hot with the franks. Here are suggestions
for the frankfurter trimmings: _1._ Chili con carne: use
canned chili con carne. _2._ Coney Island sauce: finely chop
several onions and add enough catsup to moisten well; add prepared
mustard to suit taste. _3._ Savory sauerkraut: add several tablespoons
of brown sugar to a can of sauerkraut. Add a few caraway seeds,
too, if you'd like. _BARBECUED FRANKFURTERS_ {1/2 cup minced
celery 1/4 cup minced onion 1/2 cup tomato ketchup 1/2 cup water 1/4
cup vinegar 2 tablespoons brown sugar 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon prepared mustard 1/2 teaspoon salt 8 frankfurters}

Combine first 9 ingredients in skillet. Simmer 15 minutes. Prick

frankfurters with fork; place in sauce. Cover; simmer 15 minutes,
stirring occasionally, until sauce is of desired consistency. Serve
in frankfurter buns or as a meat dish. Makes 8 sandwiches or 4
servings. _PRETEND HAM_ Make criss-cross gashes on one side of skinless
frankfurters. Stick 4 or 5 cloves in each frank, ham fashion.
Make a paste of brown sugar and mustard and spread lightly over scored
surface. If desired, sprinkle with 1 teaspoon drained crushed pineapple.
Place on rectangle of foil and pinch edges together tightly. Roast
on grill over coals 15-20 minutes. _FRANKFURTER TWISTS_ Blend
2 cups biscuit mix with 2/3 cup milk to make a soft dough. Knead on
lightly floured board and roll out to form a **f-inch rectangle. Spread
dough with a mixture of 3 tablespoons chili sauce, 1 teaspoon horse-radish
and 2 teaspoons mustard. Cut dough carefully into 12 strips,
about 3/4 inch by a foot long. Twist one strip diagonally around each
skinless frankfurter, pinching dough at ends to seal it. Brush frankfurter
twists with about 1/2 cup melted butter and toast slowly over
glowing coals until dough is golden brown. Serves 12. _HAMBURGER PATTIES
WITH NUTS_ {1 pound ground beef 2 teaspoons grated onion Dash
of pepper 1/2 teaspoon salt 1/2 cup chopped walnuts 1/4 cup ice cold
bourbon} Combine ingredients; form into patties and barbecue
5 minutes on each side.

_NOTE:_ Directions are written for those who have had previous
experience in making pottery. Instructions for preparing clay, drying,
glazing and firing are not given.

#EQUIPMENT:#
Basic pottery
studio equipment. Wooden butter molds and cookie presses.

#MATERIALS:#

Ceramic modeling clay: red, white or buff. Stoneware clay

for tiles. Glazes, one-stroke ceramic colors, stains, cones as indicated
in the individual instructions.

#GENERAL DIRECTIONS:#

Use
well-wedged clay,
free of air bubbles and pliable enough to bend without
cracking. Clean wooden molds and presses thoroughly; they must be
free of oil, wax and dust. _PRESSING DESIGNS:_ The size of wooden
mold will determine the amount of clay needed. Roll clay to thickness
indicated in individual instructions. Whenever possible, use the
wooden mold as a pattern for cutting clay. When mold has more than one
design cavity, make individual paper patterns. Place mold or paper
pattern on rolled clay and cut clay by holding knife in vertical position
(cut more pieces than required for project to make allowance for
defects; experiment with defects for decoration techniques of glazes
and colors). Place the cut clay piece loosely over the carved cavity
design side of wooden mold. To obtain clear impression of mold, press
clay gently but firmly into mold cavity, starting at center and working
to outer edges. Trim excess clay away from outer edges. Check thickness
of clay and build up thin areas by moistening surface with a little
water and adding small pieces of clay. Be sure to press the additional
clay firmly into place without locking in air bubbles. Allow
project to stand for about five minutes (if wooden press mold is a good
antique, do not leave clay in too long as the dampness may cause mold
to crack). To release clay from mold, place hands in a cupped
position around project; gently lift the edge on far side, then continue
to release edge completely around mold. Slight tapping on the
underside of mold will help release the clay, but too much agitation will
cause the clay to become soft and will interfere with removal of clay
from mold. Place a piece of plaster wall board or plaster bat on
clay and reverse bat, clay and mold in one action. This will prevent
the clay from twisting or bending, causing warping when fired. Place
project on table and carefully lift the mold off. Study surface of clay
for defects or desired corrections. If clay is slightly out of shape,
square straight sides with guide sticks or rulers pressed against
opposite sides, or smooth round pieces with damp fingers. if the background
of design is too smooth, or you wish to create a wood-grained effect,
it may be added at this time with a dull tool such as the handle
of a fine paintbrush. Make slight, smooth grooves rather than cuts
for the texture (cuts could cause air pockets under the glaze creating
pinholes or craters in the glaze during firing). Leave the clay on
plaster board to dry slowly, covered lightly with a loose piece of plastic
or cloth to prevent warping.

#RECTANGULAR TILES#

(opposite page,
right top): Stoneware clay was used. Clay was rolled to 1/4''
thickness. Back of clay scored or roughened for proper gripping
surface. No bisque firing. glazed with two coats of Creek-Turn white
stoneware glaze (no glaze on sides or bottom). Decorated on unfired
glaze with one coat of one-stroke ceramic colors; raised details of
designs were colored in shades of yellow-green, blue-green, brown and
pink. Tiles were fired once to cone 05.

#ROUND PLAQUE#

(opposite
page, bottom): White clay was used, rolled to 1/4'' thickness.
Bisque fired to cone 05. Stained with Jacquelyn's ceramic unfired
stain, polished, following manufacturer's directions. Opaque cantaloupe
and transparent wood brown were used. No further firing.

#PAPERWEIGHT#
(opposite page, top left): Red clay was used, rolled
1/2''
thick. Mold was used as pattern and clay cut by holding knife
at about 45` angle, to form an undercut, making base smaller than the
pattern top. While clay is still pressed in mold, press three equally
spaced holes 1/4'' deep, using pencil eraser, in bottom of clay
to allow for proper drying and firing. Paperweight may be personalized
on back while clay is leather hard. Bisque fired to cone 05. Unglazed.

#JARS WITH LIDS#

(opposite page, top left): Remove wooden
design head from bowl of butter mold. Fill small hole in bowl with clay.
Make paper patterns for sections of jar and lid (see Fig& 1,
opposite page). Measurements
for rectangular pattern piece ~A are obtained
by measuring inside circumference and depth of butter mold bowl.
Pattern for circular base piece ~B is diameter of ~A. Use wooden
design head of mold for pattern ~C; pattern ~D for lid fits
over top diameter of ~A. Pattern for inner lid piece ~E fits
inside ~A. Jars are assembled in bowl of butter mold. Use
white or buff clay, rolled to 3/16'' thickness. Place patterns
on rolled clay and cut around them with knife in vertical position. Place
clay pieces on wall board. To assemble jar, put paper pattern
~B for base in bottom of mold and clay disk ~B on top. Line
sides of mold with paper pattern ~A. Bevel and score ends of clay
piece ~A so that they overlap about 1/2'' and make even thickness.
Place clay piece ~A inside; use slip to join overlapped ends
together. Join ~B to bottom of ~A, scoring and reinforcing with
clay coil. Trim excess clay from around lip of mold and set aside
while assembling lid. To assemble lid, press clay piece ~C
in cavity of wooden design head. Press clay into mold as instructed
in General Directions. Score plain side of ~C and leave in mold.
Score one side of disk ~D, join to ~C; score other side of ~D
and one side of disk ~E and join as before. While assembled lid
is still on design head, gently but firmly press it on plaster board.
If design head has a
deep cavity, clay lid will be quite thick at this
point; press eraser of pencil gently 1/4'' deep into deep clay
to allow vent for proper drying and firing. Check fit of lid on jar;
if inner lid is too big, trim to fit, allowing room for thickness
of glaze. Remove lid from head of mold. Remove jar from mold. Place
jar on plaster board with lid in place to dry slowly. Bisque fire to
cone 08 with lid on jar. For an antique effect on jars, brush
Creek-Turn brown toner on bisque ware and sponge it off. Glaze with
two coats of clear or transparent matt glaze. The large jar was brushed
with Creek-Turn green toner and sponged off. Glaze with two coats
of matt glazes in turquoise with touches of blossom pink on lid. When
dry they were fired to cone 06-05.

#LITTLE FOLKS SET:#

(Made
from modern wooden molds **f.)
Roll white clay to 3/16'' thickness.

_SALT AND PEPPER:_ Use mold to cut four side pieces. For
top and bottom pieces, use short end of mold as measurement guide. Press
the side pieces of clay into cavity of mold. Trim excess clay from
rim
of mold. Cut beveled edge on the long sides of clay at a 45` angle
to miter corners. Score beveled edges and remove pieces from mold;
place design-side up on plaster board. Make all four sides. Cut clay
top and base pieces; place on plaster board. Allow all pieces to
become leather hard before constructing shaker. _TO ASSEMBLE:_
Construct sides, bottom and top as for box, using slip on scored edges
and coils of clay to reinforce seams. Join the four sides together
first, then add the base; add top last. Use water on finger to smooth
seams and edges. Turn shaker upside down. Recess base slightly to
allow room for stopper. Cut hole in base for cork stopper. Add holes
in top, forming "~S" for salt and "~P" for pepper. Set
aside to dry thoroughly. _SUGAR AND CREAMER:_ Cut a strip of
clay for sides long enough and wide enough for three impressions of mold
design. Press clay into cavity of one mold three times; bevel overlapping
ends for splice joint, score beveled edges. Form clay strip
into a cylinder; use slip to join scored ends. Place cylinder on
a disk of clay slightly larger than cylinder. Score bottom edge of cylinder
and join to disk with slip. Trim away excess clay; reinforce
seam with a coil of clay. This will form the sugar bowl. Make creamer
the same. Handle for creamer is a strip of clay 1/2'' wide
and 3-1/2'' long. To add handle, place a wooden dowel against
the inside wall of creamer. Score outside of container where handle
ends will be joined. Bend
handle; press scored handle ends firmly in
place using dowel to reinforce container while pressing; use slip to
join. To form spout, between two designs, dampen area slightly and
gently push clay outward. Make lid for sugar bowl the same as jar lids,
omitting design disk. Cut a
notch in lid for spoon handle if desired.
Set aside to dry with lid on sugar bowl. _VASES:_ Make same
as salt and pepper shakers, leaving off top pieces. Vases may be made
into candles by filling with melted wax and a wick. _NAPKIN HOLDER:_
Cut a piece of clay for base and two for sides each about **f (long
enough for three impressions of mold). Press the two sides into
cavity of one mold three times. Put cut pieces on plaster board to dry
to firm leather-hard state. Score side edges of base; join sides
and base with slip and reinforce with coil. A cardboard pattern cut to
fit inside holder will help to prevent warping. Place pattern inside
holder; use three strips of clay to hold in place (see Fig&
2, page 71). Do not use wood as it will not shrink with the clay and
would cause breakage. Let all projects dry slowly for several
days. Clean greenware. Bisque fire to cone 08. Inside of pieces
was glazed with three coats of Creek-Turn bottle green antique glaze.
Outside was finished with Creek-Turn brown toner brushed on and sponged
off to give antique finish. Fired to cone 06-05.
#CHANGING COLORS#

_TO CHANGE FROM ONE COLOR YARN TO ANOTHER:_

When changing from one color to another, whether working on right or
wrong side, pick up the new strand from underneath dropped strand. Photograph
shows the wrong side of work with light strand being picked
up under dark strand in position to be purled. _TO MEASURE WORK:_
Spread article on flat surface to required width before measuring
length at center.

#MEASURING ARMHOLE#

_TO MEASURE ARMHOLE:_

Mark row on which first stitches
have been bound off for armhole by drawing
a contrasting colored thread through it. Place work on a flat surface
and smooth out. Measure straight up from marked row. See illustration.

_TO INSERT MARKERS:_ When directions read "~sl a

marker on needle", put a small safety pin, paper clip, or commercial
ring marker on needle. In working, always slip marker from one needle
to another. To mark a row or stitch, tie contrasting thread around
end
of row or stitch to be marked.

#BACKSTITCHING SEAM#

_TO SEW SEAMS

WITH BACKSTITCH:_ Most seams are sewn with backstitch, especially
on curved, slanted or loose edges. Pin right sides of pieces together,
keeping edges even and matching rows or patterns. Thread matching
yarn in tapestry needle. Run end of yarn through several stitches
along edge to secure; backstitch pieces together close to edge. Do
not draw yarn too tight. See illustration. _TO SEW IN SLEEVES:_
Place sleeve seam at center underarm and center of sleeve cap at shoulder
seam. Ease in any extra fullness evenly around. Backstitch seam.

#WEAVING SEAM#

_TO WEAVE SEAMS TOGETHER:_ Straight vertical

edges, such as those at the back seam of a sock, can be woven together
invisibly. Thread matching yarn in tapestry needle. Hold edges
together, right side up.

HOTEI is 23 feet long with an 8-1/2-foot beam and every inch

a family boat. Menfolk can ride in the forward cockpit where the
helmsman has a clear view. Youngsters can sleep or amuse themselves
safely in the large cabin which has 5-foot 11-inch headroom, bunks for
three, galley and marine toilet. The gals can sun themselves in the
roomy aft cockpit. All are well distributed, not crowded together near
the stern. And with passenger weight shifted forward, Hotei levels
off for speed under power of a Merc 800. The 80-~hp motor drives
her at 25 ~mph with six aboard! With only two aboard, Hotei
does better than 27
~mph- and she gives a comfortable ride at this
speed even in a three-foot chop. She also banks into a turn like
a fine runabout- not digging in on the outside to throw passengers all
over the boat like many a small cabin cruiser. Nor is she a wet boat.
We've been out in five-foot waves and stayed dry.

{A lot of
thought} went into storage space construction. There's a large compartment
in the forward cockpit for charts and other items. The cabin
has several shelves for small items and storage under the bunks for
water skiis, life jackets, etc&.
The aft cockpit has a **f storage bin
over six feet long that doubles as a seat. On each side of the motor
well there's storage for battery, bumpers, line and spare props with
six-gallon gas tanks below. The well itself is designed to take two
Merc 800's or 500's if you wish and there's room for a 25-gallon
long-cruise gas tank below it. Needless to say, you can't
build Hotei in a couple of weeks. Our building time was slightly
over 400 hours- but the total cost for the hull with Fiberglas bottom,
sink, head and hardware was under $800. A comparable manufactured
boat would cost close to $3,000. Consider what you have to earn to be
able to spend the $3,000 and your building time is well worth it. A
Gator trailer, Model 565, is used to transport the boat to the waterways.
This piece of equipment costs a little over $600 but it will save
you that in mooring and hauling fees in a few years. All framing
in Hotei is one-inch mahogany which, in the dressed state you
buy it, is about the 13/16-inch thickness specified in the drawings. Therefore,
the lumber is bought in planks and ripped to size for battens,
etc&, on a table saw. Besides flathead bronze screws, silicon bronze
Stronghold nails (made by Independent Nail + Packing Co&,
Bridgewater, Mass&) are used extensively in assembly and Weldwood
resorcinal glue is used in all the joints. {Construction}
follows a thorough study of the drawings. Start by laying out the six
frames and the transom on a level floor. Draw each outline in a different-color
chalk, one on top of the other. In this way you will be
able to detect any obvious mistakes. The transom frame is made
first with the joints lapped, glued and fastened with one-inch, No&
12 Stronghold nails. After notching it for the keelson, chines and
battens, the half-inch plywood transom is secured to it with glue
and the same type
nails. All frames are butted at the joints and 3/8-inch plywood gussets
are glued and nailed on each side of each joint, again using the one-inch,
No& 12 nails. The frames are notched only for the keelson
and the chines. If notched for the battens, they would require more work,
be weakened and limber holes would have to be bored so that bilge
water could flow through. Nowhere in the boat do the frames come in
contact with the plywood planking. The jig is erected after the
frames and transom are complete. This is an important step because
any misalignment would cause progressively worse misalignment in the hull
as you advance in construction. Be sure all members are parallel,
vertical and level as required. After the frames and transom
are set up on the jig and temporarily braced, a piece of three-inch-wide
mahogany (only widths will be given since the 13/16-inch thickness
is used throughout) is butted between frames one and two below the line
of the keelson. The frames are glued and screwed to this piece. The
joints are also reinforced on each side with small blocks set in resin-saturated
Fiberglas cloth and nailed. It is over this piece that the
laminated stem and keelson are spliced. The keelson, made of
two three-inch widths, is next installed. The first piece is glued
and screwed to the frames and transom and the piece butted between frames
one and two. The second piece is in turn glued and screwed to the
first. Note, however, that it is six inches shorter at the forward end.
One-inch, No& 10 screws are used in both cases. {A stem
jig} is next cut to the proper shape and temporarily fastened to
frame one. The stem is laminated from four pieces. Take two three-inch-wide
pieces and rip them down the center of the thickness to make
the four. Then spread a generous amount of glue on the four pieces and
bend them into place on the jig. The first two pieces butt against
the inner member of the keelson and are glued and screwed to the brace
between the first two frames. The second two pieces lap over the inner
member of the keelson and butt against the outer member. They're
glued and screwed to the inner member of the keelson. A number of ~C
clamps hold the pieces together on the jig until the glue sets.

All bottom battens are two inches wide. The side ones are a half-inch
narrower. The battens are carefully fastened in place after some
necessary fairing on all frames. Glue and 1-1/2-inch, No& 10 screws
are used. Placement is important because the rear seat, bunks and
front jump seats rest on or are fastened to many of the side battens.
With the exception of two battens, all run to the stem where they
are glued and screwed after careful beveling. The chines go in the same
way except that they are made of two pieces of two-inch wood for strength
and easier bending. Fairing is always a tedious job but
the work can be cut down considerably with a Skill planer and a simple
jig. I clamped a 30-inch piece of aluminum to the base of the planer
with a pair of Sure Grips. The aluminum, flush against the battens,
acted as a fairing stick and enabled me to plane the chines and keelson
to the proper bevels easily. If you don't own a planer and don't
want to buy one, it's well worth renting. {The planking}
is five-ply, 3/8-inch-thick Weldwood Royal Marine plywood. This
can be obtained in 42-inch widths 24 feet long. The 42-inch width
leaves very little waste. Four pieces are used. Plank the sides first,
using glue and one-inch, No& 12 Stronghold nails at all battens,
the stem and the transom. Another person inside with a weight against
each batten will help in the fastening. The best procedure is to
have a few friends hold the planking in place while you mark it off.
Then trim the excess. I used a Homemaster Routo-Jig made by Porter
Cable for this job. It's good for cutting all the planking because
it cuts with a bit-like blade at high ~rpm and does not chatter
the plywood like a saber saw. When cut, the planking is clamped
in place for a final and careful trimming. Then it is marked on the
inside where it comes in contact with the transom, frames, keelson and
all the battens. It may then be pre-drilled for the fastenings. The
next step is to remove it and spread glue where it has been marked at
the contact points. Then it is replaced and fastened. The bottom planking
is applied in the same manner. After planking, the bottom
gets a layer of Fiberglas. The spray rails are first glued on the
outside and fastened from the inside with screws. Then the chines are
rounded off and the bottom is rough-sanded in preparation. Since the
sides are also covered up to the spray rails, they are also rough-sanded
in that area. The cloth is laid on one half of the bottom at
a time. A 50-inch width is used on each side and it laps the keel line
by about three inches. Lay the cloth in place and trim it to size.
Then remove it and give the whole bottom a coat of resin. When the resin
has hardened, mix up another batch with a pigment added if you wish.
I used bright red, mixing the pigment in thoroughly before adding
the hardener. Using a cheap brush, coat one side of the bottom with
the resin and then apply the cloth. When the cloth is smooth, apply
another coat of resin, spreading it with a paint roller. Be sure it is
well saturated and then allow it to harden. When the whole bottom
has hardened, use a disk sander to feather the edges of the cloth
at the keel line and near the spray rail. Then lay a three-inch-wide
strip of cloth along the keel line from the transom to the point of
the stem. Before the resin has hardened, screw a one-inch mahogany keel
strip along the centerline. This protects the bottom in beaching.
Fiberglas materials are available from Glass Plastic Supply Co&,
1605 W& Elizabeth ave&, Linden, N& J&. They will also
supply literature on application. {The hull} is now turned
over (with the help of about seven friends) and placed in a level, well-braced
position. I set it on the Gator trailer. I laid three layers
of glass cloth on the inside of the stem, also installing a bow eye
at this time. For added strength, I also fastened a small block on
each side of every frame and batten joint. Again, these blocks were
set in resin-saturated glass cloth and nailed. After trimming
off the excess on the frames and transom which was used to fasten them
to the jig at a working height, the top of the side planking is installed.
This is made up of scraps left over from the sides and bottom.
These flaring parts really help to keep the boat dry. When they're
on, the top edges are planed even with the sheer batten. The
sides of the motor well run from the bottom battens to the top and from
frame six to the transom, forming a real strong transom brace. Note
another piece of wood six inches wide is fastened to the transom between
these pieces. The decking is quarter-inch mahogany marine
plywood. All the flooring and the storage bin is half-inch exterior
fir plywood. Most floor battens are glued and screwed to the flooring.
The exception is where the flooring butts. These battens are glued
and screwed to the frames. With all deck battens in place, the
bilge is cleaned and painted up to the floor line. Use one coat of
Firzite and one coat of marine paint. Bottoms of the floorboards are
also painted and the flooring is then screwed in place. After
the decking is on, the cabin sides are installed. They're followed
by the front and rear bulkheads as illustrated. The windshield glass
is shatterproof and Plexiglas is used in the cabin. {Inside},
bunks are framed up and installed as indicated. A head is a handy
thing to have and I installed one under a removable section of the
port bunk. The sink in the hinged panel above the bunk drains into
the head and a five-gallon water tank is mounted on the bulkhead above
the sink. For padding the seats and bunks, I used Ensolite, Type
~M.
Lightweight, non-absorbent, fire resistant and dimensionally stable,
it is easily bonded to the wood with contact cement. Available
in **f sheets, it costs about a dollar a square foot.
<You can build this vacation cottage yourself. It is a full scale,
small,
but efficient house that can become a year 'round retreat complete
in every detail. Because of the unique design by the architect Egils
Hermanovski, you can build most of it in your own home workshop
in your spare time. Most of it is panelized and utilizes standard materials,
and requires the use of only simple tools. On the following
pages and in the following issues we take you every step of the way to
your vacation cottage, from choosing the proper site to applying the
final trim>.

In recognition of the growing trend for second homes,

or vacation cottages, we have designed this one specifically with
the family handyman in mind. It is a big project, not to be taken lightly.
But each step has been broken down into easy stages, utilizing
standard materials and simple tools, well within the capabilities of the
handyman.

#THE THEORY#

The idea behind our design is modular units,

or panelization. Everything possible has been scaled to standard
sizes and measurements of materials. Wall panels and structural timbers
are standard as are windows and doors, making for a minimum of cutting.
We have developed an ingenious method of interlocking these so
that you can make the major part of your house in your own workshop,
panel by panel, according to plan. Thus, when you have prepared your
foundation and laid the floor, these can be trucked to the site and erected
with a small crew of friends in a weekend. The roof timbers are
precut and the panels standard so that the house can be completely enclosed
in a matter of three or four days. Then you can do the finishing
touches at your leisure.

#A WARNING#

Due to the fact that building

codes and regulations vary so much throughout the country, the first
thing to do is to find out what, if any, they are. Close to a large
city they might even specify the size of the nails used; in a remote
section there might be no restrictions at all. This can usually
be found out at the nearest town hall. At the same time check the electrical,
plumbing, and sanitary requirements, as well as possible zoning
regulations. Whether electricity and public water and sewers are available
or not, check the local customs in the use of bottled or ~L-P
gas (we give you alternatives later on). Be sure that this information
is reasonably official and not just an unfounded opinion. If there
are any major restrictions, they usually can be obtained in printed
form. Where a building permit is required, find out what you must
present when applying for one. In many cases, you must file a complete
set of plans with the local building inspector. These will be available
at cost from our Plans Department.

#THE SITE#

Some general
things to look for in a site, if you haven't already bought one, are
accessibility, water drainage, and orientation. How are the roads,
and how will they stand up? Is there evidence of wash-outs on the property;
swampy areas or intermittent springs? A visit in the early
spring after a thaw will be very informative. Note where the sun rises
and sets, and ask which direction the prevailing winds and storms
come from. Will the view be something you can live with? Don't
worry too much about rocky or sloping terrain; we will take up alternative
foundations later on.

#THE MATERIALS#

With this first issue

we give you a list of the materials needed to build the basic (~A
version) and the expandable (~B version). This will be <for the
shell of the house only> (roof, walls, and floor), and does not include
the carport or balcony. This will permit you to get a <rough>
estimate of how much the materials for the shell will cost. Bear in mind
that this does <not> include interior panels for partitions, fancy
flooring, appliances and fixtures, electrical wiring, and plumbing,
all of which will be taken up in detail in later issues. The
wall panels are constructed of a framework of standard **f and **f of
a good grade, free from structural faults. They should be as straight
as possible, as this will effect their ability to mesh properly when
the walls are erected. The outside surface of the solid units shall
be of an exterior grade of panel board such as plywood, plastic coated
panel board, high density particle board, asbestos-cement board, or
any other product locally obtainable upon recommendation of your building
supply dealer. The inner panels do not have to be weatherproof, and
the choice will depend on the quality of finish desired. All panel
board comes in standard **f foot size. It is recommended that panels
be both glued as well as nailed to the frame. The fixed window panels
with louvers should have a good grade of 1/8-inch double-strength glass
set in a mastic glazing compound. The louvers are constructed as
shown in the detail, with a drop door for ventilation. There are standard
sliding glass windows in wood or aluminum frames for those panels
requiring them. The door panels are designed to accommodate standard
doors which should be of exterior grade. The filler panels for the gable
ends are cut from full **f sheets as shown, leaving no wastage. The
battens covering the joints are of **f stock and are applied after
the walls are erected. All nails should be rustproof, and aluminum is
highly recommended. Note: If 1/2-inch panel board is used inside
and out, or 5/8-inch one side and 3/8-inch the other, and 1/8-inch glass
is used, stock lumber in **f, **f, and **f can be used in making the
glass panels. Other thicknesses may necessitate ripping a special
size lumber for the glass trim. In any case, there is no special milling
or rabbeting required for the panels.

With modern techniques of woodworking and the multitude of cutting

tools, fixtures, and attachments available, the drill press has become
a basic home workshop tool. The drill press consists of a vertical
shaft (spindle) which is tapered or threaded on one end to hold a
drill chuck, a tubular housing (quill) in which the spindle is mounted,
a head in which the quill is mounted, a feed lever which moves the
quill up or down, a power source, and a movable table upon which the work
is placed. There is often a means of locking the quill and, on larger
presses, the table can be tilted. The size of the press is
usually expressed in terms of chuck capacity (the maximum diameter tool
shank it will hold) or distance between the spindle center and the
column. A press with an 11 inch capacity lets you drill to the center
of a 22 inch board or circle. A new radial drill press with
a 16 inch capacity has a tilting head that allows drilling to be done
at any angle. The head is mounted on a horizontal arm that swivels on
the supporting column to position the drill bit instead of the work.

#SET-UP AND MAINTENANCE#

The drill press should be leveled and, depending

on whether it is a bench or floor model, bolted securely to a
sturdy bench or stand or screwed to the floor with lag or expansion screws.
This will reduce vibration and increase accuracy. A coat
of paste wax or a rubdown with a piece of wax paper will protect the
polished surface of the table; wiping with a slightly oiled cloth
will discourage rusting of the column and quill. Presses not fitted
with sealed spindle bearings will need a drop of oil now and then in
the lubrication holes in the quill. The rest of the press should be kept
clean by dusting with a clean rag or brush. Be careful to
keep the drive belt free of oil and grease. Belt tension is adjusted
by manipulation of two locking bolts and a movable motor mount. Keep
the belt just tight enough so the pulleys won't slip when pulled by
hand; excess tension will only cause undue wear on the motor and spindle
bearings. Most drill presses have a quill return spring that raises
the spindle automatically when the feed lever is released and holds
the quill in the raised position. The return spring tension may be
adjusted to suit individual requirements by gripping the spring housing
with a pair of pliers (to prevent the spring from unwinding when it
is released), loosening the lock nut or screw, and rotating the housing
until the desired tension is achieved. Turning the housing clockwise
will reduce tension, counter-clockwise will increase it.

#DON'T
LOSE THE CHUCK KEY#

Some manufacturers have had the foresight to provide

a socket for the chuck key; otherwise, you'll have to spend
a few minutes to either attach a suitable spring clip somewhere on the
press head or fit the key to a length of light chain and fasten to the
bottom of the motor mount so that the key is out of the way when not
in use.

#FEEDS AND SPEEDS#

Drill speeds are important if you want

a good job. Each cutting tool will operate best at a given speed,
depending on the material worked. On most drill presses, it is impossible
to get the exact speed, but you can come close by adjusting the
drive belt on the step-cone pulleys. You will find a chart giving the
various speed ratios available with your particular drill press somewhere
in the instruction booklet that came with the tool. See the table
on page 34 for exact recommended speeds. Generally, the larger the
tool and the harder the material, the slower the speed. Feed pressure
is also of major importance. Too much pressure will force the
tool beyond its cutting capacity and result in rough cuts and jammed
or broken tools. Too light a feed, particularly with metal or other hard
material, causes overheating of the tool and burning of the cutting
edge. The best results will be obtained by matching the correct speed
with a steady feed pressure that lets the tool cut easily at an even
rate.

#COMMON DRILLING TOOLS#

There are numerous types and styles

of tools to drill holes. The most common are the twist drill, the
solid center shaft with interchangeable cutting blades, the double spur
bit, and the power wood bit. All will do a good job if sharp, but the
twist drills don't cut quite as smoothly as the others, since they
do not have the outlining spurs that sever the fibers before actual
boring starts. The adjustable fly cutter is very useful for cutting
large diameter holes and can be used to cut exact-size discs by
reversing the cutter blade. Since fly cutters are one sided and not
balanced, they should be used at the slowest speed available, and fed
very slowly to avoid binding. Fly cutters can fool you into putting
your hand too close to the tool, so if you want to avoid nicked fingers,
keep your hands well out of the way.

#SIMPLE HOLE DRILLING OPERATIONS#

When drilling all the way through a workpiece, always place a
piece of scrap wood underneath. This will not only protect the work
table, but also assure a clean breakthrough. Another method of assuring
a clean hole is to first drill a small pilot hole all the way through,
then drill half way with the dimensional bit, turn the piece over,
and finish from the other side. In soft woods with pronounced grain,
there is sometimes a tendency for the hole to wander, due to the varying
hardness of the wood. In this case, drilling a small pilot hole or
clamping the work will do much to improve accuracy. When a hole
is to be bored to a predetermined depth, mark the depth on the side
of the stock, then run the bit down so that it is even with the mark.
The depth gauge rod can now be set, and any number of holes bored to
exact and identical depth.

The old-time bridges over the Merrimac River in Massachusetts

are of unusual interest in many respects. For their length, their
types of construction, their picturesque settings, and their literary
associations, they should be known and remembered. In this sequence
I shall write about them in the order of their erection. The
first bridge known to have been covered wholly or in part,- and perhaps
the most interesting one, connected Newbury (now Newburyport) with
Salisbury Point. Its building was first proposed in 1791, when a
group of citizens, mostly Newburyport men, petitioned the General Court
for an act of incorporation. This document began: _"NO&
1 NEWBURY PORT, MAY 30TH, 1791_ "Whereas, a Bridge over
Merrimack River, from the Land of Hon'ble Jonathan Greenleaf,
Esquire, in Newbery, to Deer Island, and from said Island to Salisbury,
would be of very extensive utility, by affording a safe Conveyance
to Carriages, Teams
and Travellers at all seasons of the year,
and at all Times of Tide. "We, the Subscribers, do agree,
that as soon as a convenient Number of Persons have subscribed to
this, or a similar Writing, We will present a petition to the Hon'ble
General Court of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, praying
for an Act incorporating into a Body politic the subscribers to such
Writing with Liberty to build such a Bridge, and a Right to demand
a Toll equal to that received at Malden Bridge, and on like Terms,
and if such an Act shall be obtained, then we severally agree each
with the others, that we will hold in the said Bridge the several shares
set against our respective Names, the whole into two hundred shares
being divided, and that we will pay such sums of Money at such Times
and in such Manners, as by the said proposed Corporation, shall
be directed and required". This paper was signed by forty-five
persons, subscribing a total of two hundred shares. A month
later the General Court served notice to the town of Newbury that
the bridge was to be built. The matter was considered and reconsidered,
and finally opposed, but in spite of many objections, the Court
granted a charter on January 9, 1792. On November 26 of that year the
bridge was completed and opened. Timothy Palmer, who invented
and later patented the arch type of construction for wooden bridges,
was the genius who planned and supervised the building of the Essex,
or "Deer Island" bridge although the actual work was carried
out under the direction of William Coombs, who received @ 300 as
recompense.

This two-part bridge is best described by Rev& Timothy

Dwight, president of Yale College, in his "Travels in New-England
and New-York", published in New Haven in 1821. He says
of it: "It consists of two divisions, separated by an island
at a small distance from the southern shore. The division between
the island and this shore, consists principally of an arch; whose
chord is one hundred and sixty feet, and whose vortex is forty feet (it
was actually 37 feet) above the high-water mark. In appearance and
construction it resembles the Pascataqua bridge. The whole length of
Essex bridge is one thousand and thirty feet and its breadth thirty-four.
I have already mentioned that Mr& Timothy Palmer of Newburyport
was the inventor of the arched bridges in this country. As Mr&
Palmer was educated to house-building only, and had never seen a
structure of this nature; he certainly deserves not a little credit
for the invention". It is hardly necessary to remind students
of covered bridges that Timothy Palmer was born in 1751 in nearby
Rowley; that he moved with his parents to West Boxford when he was
sixteen years old; and was there apprenticed to a builder and architect,
Moody Spofford. It was indeed a remarkable feat that a man
who had had no experience of bridge building should have applied the
principle of the arch, which appears in his famous bridges at Portsmouth,
Haverhill, and Philadelphia. The Essex Merrimack Bridge
when first built was not covered. As far as we know, no American
bridge had been thus protected in 1792. Richard S& Allen is the
authority for the statement that the northern section was probably roofed
by 1810. Its original appearance is shown in an engraving published
in the "Massachusetts Magazine" in May 1793, which is reproduced
herewith (Fig& 1). A brief description accompanying the picture
says that the bridge contained more than 6000 tons of timber. Between
the abutments on the Newbury shore and the south bank of Deer Island
there was one span or arch measuring 160 feet; between the north
shore of Deer Island and the Salisbury side there was an arch of
113 feet and a series of piers with a draw forty feet long. A
dinner and celebration in honor of this piece of engineering took place
July 4, 1793, in a tavern erected by the corporation on the island.
It is said that the eccentric Timothy Dexter, who was one of the
first share-holders, stood on the table and made a speech worthy of the
occasion. The "Essex Journal" says that he "delivered an oration
on the bridge, which for elegance of style, propriety of speech
or force of argument, was truly Ciceronian". The reporter must have
written this with tongue in cheek, because Dexter's oration could
hardly be understood; and, although he later explained that he was
talking French, it seems rather more likely that he had succumbed to
the joys of the evening. The north portion of the Essex bridge
was well worth the cost of construction, although it proved to be twice
what was estimated in the beginning. It stood in its original form
until 1882. The southern half, however, on account of its underbracing,
was considered by boat owners a menace to navigation. In 1810 it
was torn down and replaced by a chain suspension bridge. This was built
by John Templeman from plans submitted by James Finley of Fayette
County, Pennsylvania. Timothy Palmer had general supervision
of the work. An advertisement in the "Newburyport Herald",
December 21, 1810, shows Palmer in a new light as an expert on chain
bridges. It reads: _"CHAIN BRIDGES_ "Information
is hereby given that Mr& Timothy Palmer of Newburyport, Mass&
has agreed to take charge of the concerns of the Patentees of the
Chain Bridge, in the states of Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Vermont,
Rhode Island, and Connecticut, so far as relates to the sale
of Patent rights and the construction of Chain Bridges. "Mr&
Palmer will attend to any applications relating to bridges and if
desired will view the proposed site, and lay out and superintend the
work, or recommend a suitable person to execute it. John
Templeman
"Approved, Timothy Palmer" This chain bridge proved
less durable than the wooden arch on the Salisbury end. It fell,
February 6, 1827, carrying with it a horse and wagon, two men and four
oxen. The horse and men were saved, but the oxen drowned. In spite
of this catastrophe, the bridge was rebuilt on the same plan and opened
again on July 17, 1827. This second chain bridge was 570 feet long,
had two thirty-foot towers and a draw, and a double roadway.

The Essex bridge was a toll crossing until 1868, when the County
Commissioners laid out all the Merrimack bridges as highways.

Sturdy and strong after more than a century of continuous

use, the old covered, wooden bridge that spans the Tygartis Valley River
at Philippi will have a distinctive part in the week-long observance
of the first land battle of the Civil War at its home site, May
28th to June 3rd. Colonel Frederick W& Lander, impersonated,
will again make his break-neck ride down the steep declivity of Talbott's
(now College) Hill and thunder across the bridge to join Colonel
Benjamin F& Kelley's (West) Virginia Infantry, then swarming
through the streets in pursuit of the retreating Confederates.
He was closely followed by the Ohio and Indiana troops- thus the
old bridge has another distinction; that of being the first such structure
secured by force of arms in the war of the '60s. The
bridge has survived the natural hazards of the elements, war, fire,
and floods, as well as injuries incident to heavy traffic, for more than
a hundred years. Twice during the Civil War it was saved from destruction
by the opposing armies by the pleas and prayers of a local minister.
It still stands as a monument to the engineering skills of the
last century and still serves in the gasoline age to carry heavy traffic
on U&S& Route 250- the old Beverly and Fairmont Turnpike.
It is one of the very few, if not the only surviving bridge of
its type to serve a main artery of the U&S& highway system, thus
it is far more than a relic of the horse and buggy days. This
covered, wooden bridge is so closely identified with the first action
in the early morning of June 3, 1861, and with subsequent troop movements
of both armies in the Philippi area that it has become a part
and parcel of the war story. So frequently has pictures of the bridge
appeared in books and in national publications that it vies with the
old John Brown Fort at Harpers Ferry as the two nationally best known
structures in West Virginia. Completed and opened for traffic
in 1852, the bridge was designed and built by Lemuel Chenoweth
and his brother, Eli, of Beverly. The Chenoweth brothers were experienced
bridge builders, and against the competition of other, and better
known, bridge designers and builders they had constructed nine of
the covered, wooden bridges on the Parkersburg and Staunton Turnpike
a dozen years before, as well as many other bridges for several counties.
The Philippi bridge, however, was the Chenoweth master piece,
with its 139-foot, dual lane, span- and it stands today as a monument
to its builders. Never rebuilt, the bridge was strengtened in 1938
by two extra piers, a concrete floor, and a walk-way along the upper
side in order to care for modern traffic. During the war it
was in constant use by the wagon trains transporting supplies from the
railhead at Grafton to the troops operating in the interior. Union
soldiers at times used it for sleeping quarters to escape from the
rain or other inclement weather, and some of them left momentoes of their
stay by carving their names and small tokens on its walls and beams.

But what the elements could not do was seriously threatened

when Brigadier General William E& (Grumble) Jones reached Philippi
while on the famous Jones-Imboden raid in May, 1863. General
Jones was fresh from a long series of bridge burnings, including the
long bridge at Fairmont, and, after seeing a great drove of horses
and cattle he had collected safely across the bridge, he sent his men
to work piling combustibles in and around it. Reverend Joshual Corder,
a Baptist minister, gathered a few citizens of Southern sympathies,
to call on Jones and plead with him to spare the structure; he
reasoned and argued, pointing out that Jones or other Confederate
commanders would need it should troops pass that way in retreat. Jones
relented, he did not order his men to apply the torch- the drove of
livestock was driven up the valley, via Beverly, and across the mountains
to feed and serve the Confederate army, while Jones and his raiders
turned toward Buckhannon to join forces with Imboden.
Again Reverend Corder saved the bridge when Union soldiers planned
to destroy it, after filling its two lanes with hay and straw- but
for what reason is not recorded nor remembered, certainly not because
of pressure from an opposing Confederate force. On the second occasion
it took prayers as well as reason to dissuade the soldiers from their
purpose. Centering around this historic old structure, a group
of public-spirited Barbour County citizens have organized and planned
a week-long series of events, beginning on May 28th and continuing
through June 3rd, to observe most appropriately the centennial of
the first land engagement of the Civil War at Philippi.

It is a good eight years now since each of us acquired a swimming

pool- eight enlightening, vigorous, rigorous, not wholly unrewarding
years. We have learned a lot- a dash of hydrochemistry here, a
bit about plumbing and pump-priming there. We have had sound grounding
in the principles of the mailed-fist-in-velvet-glove school of diplomacy.
We have become amateur insurance experts and fine-feathered yard
birds. True, our problems have lessened a bit as more and more of
our neighbors have built their own pools, thereby diluting our spectacular
attractions. But problems cling to pools, as any pool owner knows.
So our innate generosity of spirit prompts us to share our trials,
errors and solutions with any who are taking the pool plunge for the
first time- in the pious hope that some may profit from our experience.

#WHERE TO PUT IT#

Position may not be everything, but in the

case of a pool it can certainly contribute difficulties, social and/or
physical. We speak from varying viewpoints. One of us has a pool set
in a wooded area very near the house. The other has his pool far away
from the house in a field high on a hill. If you are dreaming
of a blue, shimmering pool right outside your living room windows,
close your eyes firmly and fill in the picture with lots and lots of
children, damp towels, squashed tubes of suntan oil and semi-inflated
plastic toys. You are likely to be nearer the truth. You can
also see that the greater the proximity of the pool to your main living
quarters, the greater the chance for violation of family privacy, annoying
noise and the let's-make-your-house-our-club attitude. On the
other hand, out-of-sight does not lead to out-of-mind when children
cannot be easily observed and you have to make a long trek to reach the
pool. Another dilemma: As picturesque as a sylvan pond in
the forest may be, trees offer a leaf and root hazard to the well-being
of a pool. Yet a grassy approach can turn a pool into a floating
lawn every time the grass is mowed. As in choosing a wife, it
is only sensible to consider also how appealing a pool is likely to be
in bad weather as well as in good. In the colder climes, for instance,
you will have to live through the many unglamorous winter months when
your pool will hardly look its best. It may be a big hole in the ground
filled with salt hay, or an ice floe studded with logs. Even a
neat, plastic-covered plunge is not exactly a joy to behold. (We do,
however, recommend those patented covers to prevent both people and junk-
flora and fauna generally- from accidentally wintering in the
pool.) Probably no location for a pool is perfect on all counts.
Naturally it will be dictated to a large extent by the shape and
size of your land. But if space and money are no problem and small children
are not on hand every day, it is certainly more restful to have
your pool and entertainment area removed from the immediate environs
of the house. And a good several feet around the pool should be neither
greensward nor woods, but good hard pavement. The placement
of your pool, however, will not of itself solve the two major problems
of pool owning- those that involve your social life and those pertaining
to safety. Coping with them demands stern discipline- of yourself
as well as of your family, neighbors, friends and anyone you ever
talked to on a transoceanic jet. Eight years ago while we were
going through the mud-sweat-and-tears construction period, we were
each solaced by the vision of early morning dips and evening home-comings
to a cool family collected around the pool with a buffet table laid
out nearby for the lord and master's delectation. But not even our
first pool-side
gatherings came anywhere near those rosy fantasies.
We seemed to be witnessing the population explosion right in our own
backyards. Our respective families looked as if they had quadrupled.
Had we taken a lien on a state park? Not at all. We had merely been
discovered by the pool sharks. We were in business! From
proud pool-owners to perpetual hosts and handymen was a short step-
no more than the change from city clothes to trunks. Nai^ve of us,
maybe, but the results of our impulsive invitations to "come over
next summer and swim in our new pool" were both unexpected and unsettling.

#OUR BOOK OF ETIQUETTE#

After the first few weeks, it was

obvious that rules had to be made, laid down and obeyed- even if our
popularity ratings became subnormal as a result. So rules we made,
in unabashed collusion. Since our viewpoints in this respect coincided
precisely, we present the fruits of our efforts herewith as a single
social code for pool owners. First and foremost: No one-
no, not anyone- in the family is allowed to issue blanket invitations
to his or her own circle. Just short of forty lashes we finally managed
to coerce our children to this view. Their friends and ours are
welcome to share the pool, but on our terms and at our times.
No friends are to arrive without an invitation or without at least telephoning
beforehand. No ringers, either- even if they are trailing
legitimate invitees. We want to know when the Potlatches telephone
exactly how many they are planning to bring, so that we won't
end up with a splashing mob that looks like Coney Island in August.

No young children may come without adults except for a specific,

organized, chaperoned party. And accompanying adults are urged to
keep an alert and sensible eye on their responsibilities. A gaggle
of gabbling mothers, backs to the pool, is no safeguard. No bottle
pool is tolerated- bottle pool being our lingo for those who come
to swim and sink into our bar while protesting that they can only dunk
and run. (Sanity, solvency and relations with our wine merchant took
a beating that first summer as we inadvertently became the neighborhood
free-drink stop.) We designated one day a week as the time
when neighborhood teen-agers might swim at definite hours. This has
saved us from constant requests seven days a week and made us feel less
brutal to the young "less fortunate" than ours. We also
worked out logistics for Sunday afternoon swimmers who arrive two hours
early with their weekend guests while we are still enjoying an alfresco
lunch <en famille>. We gently usher them to an island of tables
and chairs strategically placed on the far side of the pool where
they can amuse each other until we get ready to merge sides. All
dressing (undressing to be more exact) must be done in our small bath
house or at the swimmers' homes. (To avoid any possible excuse for
a dripping parade through your house, it is a good idea to have a telephone
extension near the pool as well as a direct outdoor route between
the pool and the parking area.) We do, however, provide a limited
number of extra suits, mainly for children, and we stock extra towels
and a few inexpensive bathing conveniences. Life-preservers, the buckle-on
kapok-filled kind, are held in readiness, too, for the very young.

#PRESERVING LIFE AND LIMB#

Safety rules, of course, are more

important than all the others put together. In many localities,
now, the law requires all pools to be fenced, usually to a minimum
height of 5 feet. But fenced or unfenced, no pool-side is the place
for running or horseplay. We allow no underwater endurance contests,
either, or inexpert versions of water polo. Diving boards must
have non-skid surfaces (coco matting takes an awful beating from chlorine
and rots quickly, but grit-impregnated paints are excellent). And
divers must be enjoined to look before they leap, either on top of
someone else or onto a pool edge. Our pools also have wide, shallow
steps- for the benefit of the littlest swimmers who can thus
be introduced to the water with far greater safety than a ladder affords.

All bottles must be kept a safe distance away from the pool
and drinking glasses are banned in favor of plastic or metal cups.

When you first acquire a pool, we earnestly recommend- for your

own mental health- a good long chat with your insurance agent. You
should be prepared to cope with any pitfall such as plunges into empty
pools or shallow ends and all manner of winter as well as summer lawsuits.

Soignee pools, alas, do not just happen. They are the

result of a constant and careful contest with the elements. Unless
you want to make your wife a pool widow and to spend a great many of your
leisure hours nursing your pool's pristine purity, its care and
feeding- from ~pH content to filtering and vacuuming- is best left
to a weekly or bi-monthly professional service. Of course, if your
pool is close to the house, your wife can always add it to her housekeeping
chores (you hope). Or you can make pool care the price of swimming
for teen-agers. Even so, every pool owner, in case of emergency,
should have some idea of what makes things work. A brief course in
hydraulics from the pool builders may well be appreciated in a future
crisis.

#PRESERVING THE POOL#

A sudden high rise in temperature

will turn your pool poison green overnight. You need more chlorine. The
walls feel slippery. You need algaecide. With or without professional
help, you will have to be able to do some of these jobs yourself
unless you have a full-time pool nurse. You should see to it
that the trap, the dirt-catcher in front of the filter, is always clean.
A pool is no place for a shut trap. You should firmly insist
that no bobby pins or hair pins be worn in the water. When shed,
they leave rust marks. You can hope against hope that come spring
cleaning, your fair-weather friends will lend a hand at scrubbing
and furbishing. It has happened. Many hours of spring cleaning
will be saved, however, if you remove the main drain grate when you
close the pool season in the fall. As the pool is emptied, stand by
to brush down the walls and bottom while they are still wet. Much of
the dirt and leaf stain is easily removed when damp, but requires dynamite
if allowed to dry. If you have a 6- to 8-inch drain pipe, you may
easily wash out all the debris when the grate is out. Of course, when
your 6-inch torrent of water is released, it may cause a lot of comment
as it passes through or by neighboring properties. Do not forget
this possibility. If your pool is located on or near sloping
ground, it may have natural drainage which is certainly more desirable
than to be faced with the annual expense and labor of first pumping
out the water and then scooping out all the debris. It may be
true that pool lighting dramatizes an evening scene, but lights also attract
all the insect life for miles around. Once on the water, these
little visitors seldom leave, and this adds to your filtering and vacuuming
problems as well as providing a slapping good time for all those
present. Often one floodlight high in a tree will provide all the light
you need at much less expense. Our experience has taught
us that it pays to buy the best equipment possible, from pipes to
brushes.
Follow pool-care instructions to the letter, and be sure that one
person (in the family or not) is regularly responsible for each aspect
of the job, with no chance for claiming, "It wasn't my turn".

Never let anyone not in the know take a turn at the valves-
even if the little boys do want to play space ship. You may find yourself
hitting bottom, literally, as you discover that water is running
out even while you are putting it in.

DRAW a line across the country at the latitude of lower Pennsylvania.

Any house built now below that line without air conditioning
will be <obsolete in 10 years>. Fortunately, it is the ~FHA
which has arrived at this conclusion, for it means that cooling equipment
of all kinds may now be included in a mortgage, and thus acquired
with a minimum of financial stress. Even if you live above that line,
the ~FHA will back you, for they have decided that the inclusion
of air conditioning in <all> new homes is a good thing and should
be encouraged. New simplified packaged units, recently devised
prefabricated glass-fiber ducts, and improved add-on techniques make
it possible to acquire a system for an 1800-square-foot house for as
little as $600 to $900. Two men can often do the installation in a
day. You can install it yourself- this is a central system that will
cool <every part> of your house. Its upkeep? No less an authority
than the ~FHA concurs that the savings air conditioning makes
possible more than offset its operating costs. _IS IT WORTH-WHILE?_
Home air conditioning has come a long way from the early days
of overcooled theaters and the thermal shock they inflicted. We know
now that a 15-degree differential in temperature is the maximum usually
desirable, and accurate controls assure the comfort we want.
We know, too, that health is never harmed by summer cooling. On the
contrary, there are fewer colds and smaller doctor bills. The filtered
air benefits allergies, asthma, sinus, hay fever. Control of temperature
and humidity is a godsend to the aged and the invalid. Heart conditions
and high blood pressure escape the stresses brought on by oppressive
heat. Housekeeping is easier. The cleaner air means
less time spent pushing a vacuum, fewer trips to the dry cleaners, lighter
loads for the washing machine. The need for reupholstering, redecorating,
repainting becomes more infrequent. Clothes hold their shape
better, and mildew and rust become almost forgotten words. It
will improve your disposition. When you're less fatigued, things
just naturally look brighter. The children can have their daytime naps
and hot meals, and be put to bed on schedule in shade-darkened rooms.
You'll sleep longer and better, too, awake refreshed and free of
hot weather nerves. You can forget about screens, and leave the
storm windows up all year around. Best of all, central air conditioning
is something you can afford. Like its long-lived cousin,
the refrigerator, a conditioner can be expected to last 20 to 25 years
or more. That brings its per-year cost down mighty low. _FOR ANY
HOUSE._ No matter what style your home is, ranch, two-story, Colonial
or contemporary, central air conditioning is easily installed. The
equipment won't take up valuable space either. It can go in out-of-the-way
waste space. But there's no denying that the easiest
and most economical way to get year-'round whole-house air conditioning
is when you build. If that's done, the house can be designed
and oriented for best operation, and this can mean savings both in the
size of equipment and in the cost of the house itself. If you
can't see your way clear to have summer cooling included when building,
by all means <make provision for its easy adding later>. Manufacturers
have designed equipment for just such circumstances, and your
savings over starting from scratch will be substantial. If your
house is to have a forced warm air system, cooling can be a part of
it. This costs less than having a completely separate cooling system,
for your regular heating ductwork, filters and furnace blower do double
duty for cooling. You can get year-'round air conditioners in the
same variety of styles in which you buy a furnace alone- high or
low boy, horizontal or counterflow. The units can be installed in basement,
attic, crawlspace, or in a closet located in the living area. The
cooling coil is located in the furnace's outlet. From the coil
small copper pipes connect to a weatherproof refrigeration section set
in the yard, garage, carport, or basement. If you plan to add
cooling later to your heating system, there are things to watch for.
Be sure ducts that require insulation get it when they are installed.
They may be inaccessible later. <Be sure your ducts and blower are
big enough to handle cooling>. This is especially important if you
live in a mild-winter zone. <Be sure you get a perimeter heating system>,
and diffusers that will work as well for cooling as they do for
heating. You can get a hot water system that will also work
for cooling your house. For cooling, chilled water is circulated instead
of hot water. Instead of radiators you'll have cooling-heating
units, each with its own thermostat. These systems are more expensive
than year-'round forced air systems. The minimum cost for an average
one-story, 7-room house with basement, is likely to run $1500 above
the cost of the heating alone. _SEPARATE SYSTEMS._ If the problems
of combining cooling with your heating are knotty, it may be cheaper
to plan on a completely separate cooling system. The simplest kind
of separate system uses a single, self-contained unit. It is, in effect,
an oversize room conditioner equipped with prefab glass-fiber ducts
to distribute the cooled, cleaned, dehumidified air where it is wanted.
In a long, rambling ranch, two such units can be installed,
one serving the living area, the other the sleeping zone. In a two-story
house, one unit may be installed in the basement to serve the first
floor, another in the attic to cool the second. In each case, having
separate systems for living and sleeping areas has the advantage of
permitting individual zone control. _THE HEAT PUMP._ One of the
more remarkable of the new cooling systems is one that can be switched
to heating. As you know, a conditioner makes indoor air cool by pumping
the heat out of it and then releasing this heat outdoors. A relatively
simple switching arrangement reverses the cycle so that the machine
literally runs backward, and the heat is extracted from outdoor air
and turned indoors. Up until recently, this heat pump method
of warming air was efficient only in areas of mild winters and when
outside temperatures were above 40 degrees. Now, the machine has been
improved to a point where it is generally more economical than oil heat
at temperatures down to 15 degrees. You can get this added heating
feature for as little as $200 more than the price of cooling alone.

Consider it as a standby setup, at negligible cost, for those

emergencies when the furnace quits, a blizzard holds up fuel delivery,
or for cool summer mornings or evenings when you don't want to start
up your whole heating plant. _WHAT SIZE CONDITIONER?_ How large
a cooling unit you need, and the method of its installation, depends
on a variety of factors. Among other things, besides the nature of
your house and how much heat finds its way into its various rooms from
the outside, it will depend upon your personal habits and the makeup
of your family. Families with children usually don't want the house
quite so cool. If you are a party thrower, you may need added capacity.
The body is a heat machine, and 20 to 25 guests can easily double
your cooling load. Cooling requirements are best expressed in
terms of ~BTU's. A ~BTU is a unit of heat, and the ~BTU
rating of a conditioner refers to how much heat your machine can
pump <out> of your house in an hour. A very rough rule of thumb is
that, under favorable conditions, you'll need 15 ~BTU's of cooling
for every square foot of your house. This is if outdoor temperatures
have a high average of 95 degrees. You'll need more if the high
average is above that, less if it's below. Coolers are also
rated by tons. A ton of cooling compares to the cooling you get by
melting a ton of ice. By accepted definition, a 1-ton conditioner will
provide 12,000 ~BTU of cooling in one hour. You may find
a conditioner rated by horsepower. It is generally an inaccurate
method of rating, for the horsepower is that of the compressor motor,
and many other components beside it determine how much cooling you'll
get. A 1-~hp conditioner, for example, may vary in effectiveness
from under 8,000 ~BTU to well over 10,000 ~BTU. The
safest procedure is to let your builder estimate the size of the unit
you need, rather than trying to do this yourself. Don't urge
your builder to give you a little extra cooling capacity just to be
sure you have enough. Better to have your equipment slightly undersized
than too big. Here's why: Reducing humidity is often
as important as cooling. An oversize unit will cool off your house quickly,
then shut down for a long period. Before it cycles on again, humidity
can build up and make you uncomfortable even though the temperature
is still low. With a unit of the right size, a compressor will
run continuously during hot weather, reducing humidity as evenly as it
does temperature. _MONEY-SAVING TIPS._ Attention to details can
cut in half the size unit you need and pare operating expense proportionately.
A well-designed, 1200-square-foot house can be comfortably cooled
and heated for as little as $128 a year, or $11 a month.
If you have a house which heat doesn't penetrate easily, your unit
will have less heat to remove. Keep the direct sun from reaching the
house and you've won the first battle. In a new house, generous roof
overhangs are a logical and effective solution. If the house you plan
to buy or build won't have big overhangs, you can still do a fair
job of keeping the sun off walls and windows with properly designed
trellises, fences and awnings. Shade trees, too, are a big help,
so keep them if you can. Drawn blinds and draperies do some good,
but not nearly as much as shading devices on the outside of the house.

The more directly the sun strikes walls and roof, the greater
its heat impact. The way a house is set on its lot can therefore influence
how much cooling you're going to need. A shift in the walls,
or a change in the roof slope, so the sun hits them more obliquely, can
save you money. You can use heat-absorbing glass to stop the
sun, double glass and insulated glass to combat condensation. <Restrict
large glass areas to the north and south sides of the house>.
They're easier to shade there. An attic space above insulation makes
a house easier to cool. You'll even gain by putting your water
heater outside the conditioned space, and using an electric range instead
of a gas one. Gas adds to the moisture load. Insulate, weatherstrip,
double-glaze to the maximum. In insulation, the numbers to
remember are 6-4-2. They stand for 6 inches of mineral wool insulation
in the ceiling, 4 inches in the side walls, 2 inches in the floors.
Such extra-thick insulation not only permits a much smaller cooling
installation, but will continue to reduce operating expenses both in
heating and cooling. A light-colored roof will reduce sun heat by 50
per cent. It costs two to three times as much to remove a ~BTU
in summer as it does to add one in winter, so every solitary ~BTU
is worth attention. You'll foil them in droves, along with
their pal humidity, by having and using a kitchen range exhaust fan, a
bathroom ventilator for when you shower, and an outside vent for the
clothes drier. _KEEPING CONDITIONERS QUIET._ It's no use pretending
that all conditioners are quiet, but the noise they produce can
be kept to a minimum. Good workmanship is important in the installation,
so if you're doing your own contracting, don't award the job on
the basis of price alone. Avoid attic placement directly above
a bedroom.
##

MOST RECREATION WORK calls for a good deal of pre-planning.

This is particularly true in site selection. You must know before
you start what the needs and objectives of your organtion are; you
must have a list of requirements on where, how many, and what type sites
are needed. With such a program you can make constructive selections
of the best sites available. Begin the examination of a site
with a good map and aerial photos if possible. These are becoming more
and more available through the work of counties and other government
agencies. The new editions of topographic maps being made by the federal
government are excellent for orienting yourself to the natural
features of the site. These are inexpensive and available from the U&
S& Geological Society, Washington 25, D& C&. In recent
years many counties and the U& S& Forest Service have taken
aerial photos which show features in detail and are very good for planning
use. Most counties also have maps available from the county engineer
showing roads and other features and from the assessor's office
showing ownerships of land. Inspect the site in the field during
the time of the year when the area will be most heavily used for
recreation. This gives you a better opportunity to get the feel of the
climate conditions, the exposure to the sun and wind, the water interests,
etcetera, which vary greatly with the seasons. It is usually helpful
to make a sketch map in the field, showing the size and location
of the features of interest and to take photographs at the site. These
are a great aid for planning use back at the office. ##

FOR
SITE PLANNING WORK, it is best to have a qualified and experienced
park planner to carry through the study. However, there is also much
to be gained by making use of the abilities of the local people who are
available and interested in recreation. County judges, commissioners,
engineers, assessors, and others who have lived in the area for a
long time may have valuable knowledge regarding the site or opinions
to offer from their varied professional experiences. A visit to the site
by a group of several persons can usually bring out new ideas or verify
opinions most helpful to the planning study of any recreation area.

How much study is required? This, of course, depends on

the character of the site itself, the previous experience of the investigator,
and the number of factors needed to arrive at a good decision.
It is too easy for the inexperienced person to make a quick
judgment
of a few values of the area and base a decision on these alone. Usually
there are more factors to good site planning than first impressions.
A site may be a rundown slum or a desolate piece of desert in appearance
today but have excellent potentials for the future with a little
development or water. The same is true of areas which at first look
good because of a few existing recreation features but may actually
be poor areas to develop for general public use. In looking for
the best sites available that meet the requirements, you need information
to compare the site with others. You need answers to four important
questions. @ What are the existing recreation features?

@ How well can the site be developed? @ How useful

will it be to the public? @ Is this site available?

Check the quantity and quality of all of the recreation interests

already existing at the site. Naturally, a park site with scenic
views, a good lake, trees, and sand dunes, will attract more people
than a nearby area with only trees and dunes. Quality is vitally important.
Frontage on a body of clear, clean water will be vastly different
from the same amount of frontage on polluted water. Some recreation
features, such as scenic values and water interest, also have greater
overall value than other interests. One of the most desirable
features for a park are beautiful views or scenery. It may be distant
views of a valley or the mountains or natural features such as a
small lake, colorful rock formations, or unusual trees. A site which
overlooks a harbor or river may offer interest in the activities of boating
traffic. An area on the coast may have relaxing views of the surf
rolling in on a beach. A site may also be attractive just through
the beauty of its trees and shrubs. Note extent of these interests and
how available they will be for the public to enjoy. Water interest
is one of the most valuable factors you can find for a recreation
site. Most park planners look to water frontage for basic park areas.
This follows naturally since frontage on an ocean, stream, or lake
provides scenic values and opportunities for the very popular recreation
activities of bathing, fishing, boating, and other water sports.
A body of water is usually the center of interest at parks which attract
the greatest picnic and camping use. It also cools the air in summer
and nourishes the trees and wild life. The amount of water
frontage, the quantity and quality of the water, and the recreation
afforded by it are important. A restricted frontage may be too crowded
an area for public use. The quantity of water flow may be critical;
a stream or pond which is attractive in the springtime may become stagnant
or dry in late summer. If the site is on a reservoir, the level
of the water at various seasons as it affects recreation should be
studied. Check the quality of the water. A stream which has all of
its watershed within a national forest or other lands under good conservation
practices is less likely to be affected by pollution than one
passing through unrestricted logging or past an industrial area. Other
factors, such as water temperature, depth of water, the fish life it
supports, wave action, flooding, etcetera, will affect its recreation
value. ##

OTHER NATURAL FEATURES which can be of high interest

are the forests, canyons, mountains, deserts, seacoast, beaches, sand
dunes, waterfalls, springs, etcetera with which the area is blessed.
Just as the national and state parks place emphasis on features which
are of national or state significance, counties should seek out these
features which are distinctive of their area. Although the site may
not contain the features themselves, there are often opportunities
to include them as additional interest to the site. The route to the
park may lead people past them or display views of them. A group of
native trees or plants which are outstanding in a particular county can
be featured at the site. The fish, animals, and birds which
may be found at the site are another interest. Fishing interest calls
for a check of the species found, quantity and size, the season they
are available, and the stocking program of the fish commission. Animals
may be present at the site or provide hunting in nearby areas. The
site may be on one of the major flyways of migratory birds or have its
own resident bird life. Clams, crabs, and other marine life may add
interest at coastal areas. ##

EACH AREA has its own historical

interests with which much can be done. Park visitors are always
eager to learn more about the area they are in. The historical sign
tells its story, but nothing gets interest across as well as some of the
original historical items or places themselves which still have the
character of the period covered. Notice should be taken of unusual rock
formations, deposits, or shapes of the earth's crust in your region.
Those which tell a story of the earth's formation in each area
can add geological interest to the recreation sites. An old shipwreck,
a high dam, an old covered bridge, a place to find agates or other
semi-precious stones or a place to pan gold, etcetera may be of interest.
Some areas may provide archeological values such as ancient Indian
village sites or hunting areas, caves, artifacts, etcetera.
How well can the site be developed? Look at the physical features
of the land to determine how desirable it is for use, what can be done
to correct the faults, and what it will cost to make the area meet your
needs in comparison to other sites. Many things need to be checked:

#SIZE AND SHAPE#- The size of the area alone can be a determining
factor. An area may be too small for the needs of the project.
Areas should be large enough to include the attractions, have ample
space for the use of facilities needed, and have room around the edges
to protect the values of the area from encroachment by private developments.
Acreage in excess of the minimum is good practice as recreation
areas are never too large for the future and it is often more economical
to operate one large area than several small ones. Shape
of the area is also related to the use attractions and needs of the
development. A large picnic area or camping development is most efficient
in shape as a square or rectangle several hundred feet in width
in preference to a long narrow area less than one hundred feet wide. This
is true because of savings in utility lines and the fact that your
buildings have a useful radius equal in all directions. However, a
narrow strip may be very practical for small developments, or to provide
additional stream frontage for a fisherman's trail, or include
scenic strips within the park unit.

#ADJOINING AREAS#- The values

of the site may be affected by the appearance of the adjoining lands,
ownership and use of the land, and the utilities available there. For
instance, a site adjoining other publicly owned lands, such as a national
forest or a public road, may be desirable, whereas a site next
to an industrial plant might not. The utilities available nearby may
provide a savings in the cost of extending electricity or water to the
site.

#TOPOGRAPHY#- Topography is very important. Check the

elevation of the ground, degree and direction of slopes, drainage, rock
outcrops, topsoil types and quality, as well as subsoil. Nearly level
areas are required for parking areas, beaches, camp areas, ballfields,
etcetera. Determine how much topography limits useful area or what
the costs of earth moving or grading might be.

#WATER#- In addition
to its recreation interests, water is needed for drinking, sanitation,
and irrigation. The quantity and quality of water sources is
often a big factor in site selection. The area may provide good springs
or opportunities for a well or be near to municipal water lines. Figure
the cost of providing water to the use areas.

#PLANTS#- The
existing plant growth calls for thorough checking. Look at the trees
as to size and interest, the amount of shade they provide, how healthy
they are, the problems of maintenance, fire hazards, wind throw,
etcetera. An area may have been partially logged and requires
removal of stumps or clean up. Some shrubs may be of good landscaping
value, other areas of brush may need to be cleared. The extent and location
of open areas is noted.

#EXPOSURE#- How much will wind,

rain, sun, and temperature affect the use? An area sheltered from
strong winds may be highly desirable for recreation use. The direction,
velocity, and season of these winds should be noted as to just how
they will affect the recreation use and your maintenance and operation
of the area. Lack of rainfall and extreme temperatures may call for
the development of shade and irrigation of a site to make it useable.
Sometimes, you have a choice of exposure for sites where the topography
or trees of the area will provide afternoon shade, morning sun, or
whatever may be most desirable for the use intended.

#IMPROVEMENTS#-
Some areas may already have been improved and contain buildings,
roads, utilities, cleared land, etcetera which may raise the cost of
the site.
Your invitation to write about Serge Prokofieff to honor his
70th Anniversary for the April issue of <Sovietskaya Muzyka> is
accepted with pleasure, because I admire the music of Prokofieff;
and with sober purpose, because the development of Prokofieff personifies,
in many ways, the course of music in the Union of Soviet Socialist
Republics. The Serge Prokofieff whom we knew in the
United States of America was gay, witty, mercurial, full of pranks
and <bonheur>- and very capable as a professional musician. These
qualities endeared him to both the musicians and the social-economic
<haute monde> which supported the concert world of the post-World
War /1, era. Prokofieff's outlook as a composer-pianist-conductor
in America was, indeed, brilliant. Prokofieff's <Classical>
Symphony was hailed as an ingenious work from a naturally gifted
and well-trained musician still in his twenties. To the Traditionalists,
it was a brilliant satire on modernism; to the Neo-Classicists,
it was a challenge to the pre-war world. What was it to Prokofieff?
A tongue-in-cheek stylization of 18th-Century ideas; a trial
balloon to test the aesthetic climate of the times; a brilliant <piece
de resistance?> Certainly its composer was an ascending star
on a new world horizon. I heard the <Classical> Symphony
for the first time when Koussevitzky conducted it in Paris in 1927.
All musical Paris was there. Some musicians were enthusiastic, some
skeptical. I myself was one of the skeptics (35 years ago). I remember
Ernest Bloch in the foyer, shouting in his high-pitched voice:
"**h it may be a <tour de force, mais mon Dieu,> can anyone take
this music seriously"? The answer is, "Yes"! Certainly,
America took Prokofieff and his <Classical> Symphony seriously,
and with a good deal of pleasure. His life-long friend, Serge
Koussevitzky, gave unreservedly of his praise and brilliant performances
in Boston, New York, and Washington, D& C&, to which
he added broadcastings and recordings for the whole nation. Chicago was
also a welcome host: there, in 1921, Prokofieff conducted the world
premiere of the <Love for Three Oranges,> and played the first
performance of his Third Piano Concerto. "Uncle Sam" was, indeed,
a rich uncle to Prokofieff, in those opulent, post-war victory
years of peace and prosperity, bold speculations and extravaganzas, enjoyment
and pleasure: "The Golden Twenties". We attended the
premieres of his concertos, symphonies, and suites; we studied, taught,
and performed his piano sonatas, chamber music, gavottes, and marches;
we bought his records and played them in our schools and universities.
We unanimously agreed that Prokofieff had won his rights as
a world citizen to the first ranks of Twentieth-Century Composers.

Nevertheless, Prokofieff was much influenced by Paris during

the Twenties: the Paris which was the artistic center of the Western
World- the social Paris to which Russian aristocracy migrated-
the <chic> Paris which attracted the tourist dollars of rich
America- the <avant-garde> Paris of Diaghileff, Stravinsky, Koussevitzky,
Cocteau, Picasso- the <laissez-faire> Paris of Dadaism
and ultramodern art- the Paris <sympathique> which took young
composers to her bosom with such quick and easy enthusiasms.

So young Prokofieff was the darling of success: in his motherland;

in the spacious hunting grounds of "Uncle Sam"; in the exciting
salons of his lovely, brilliant Paris- mistress of gaiety-
excess and abandon- world theatre of new-found freedoms in tone, color,
dance, design, and thought. Meanwhile, three great terrible
forces were coagulating and crystallizing. In this world-wide conscription
of men, minds, and machines, Prokofieff was recalled to his
native land. The world exploded when Fascism challenged all concepts
of peace and liberty, and the outraged, freedom-loving peoples of the
Capitalist and Socialist worlds combined forces to stamp Fascist
tyranny into cringing submission. After this holocaust, a changing world
occupied the minds of men; a world beset with new boundaries, new
treaties and governments, new goals and methods, and the age-old fears
of aggression
and subjugation- hunger and exposure. In this
changed world, Prokofieff settled to find himself, and to create
for
large national purpose. Here, this happy, roving son of good fortune
proved that he could accept the disciplines of a new social-economic
order fighting for its very existence and ideals in a truculent world.
Here, Prokofieff became a workman in the vineyards of Socialism-
producing music for the masses. It is at this point in his life
that the mature Prokofieff emerges. One might have expected that
such a violent epoch of transition would have destroyed the creative
flair of a composer, especially one whose works were so fluent and spontaneous.

But no: Prokofieff grew. He accepted the environment

of his destiny- took root and grew to fulfill the stature of his
early promise. By 1937 he had clarified his intentions to serve his
people: "I have striven for clarity and melodious idiom, but at
the same time I have by no means attempted to restrict myself to the
accepted methods of harmony and melody. This is precisely what makes
lucid, straightforward music so difficult to compose- the clarity must
be new, not old". How right he was; how clearly he saw the cultural
defection of experimentation as an escape for those who dare not
or prefer not to face the discipline of modern traditionalism. And
with what resource did Prokofieff back up his Credo of words- with
torrents of powerful music. Compare the vast difference in scope and
beauty between his neat and witty little <Classical> Symphony and
his big, muscular, passionate, and eloquent Fifth Symphony; or the
<Love for Three Oranges> (gay as it is) with the wonderful, imaginative,
colorful, and subtle tenderness of the magnificent ballet,
<The Stone Flower>. This masterpiece has gaiety, too, but it is
the gaiety of dancing people: earthy, salty and humorous. Of
course, these works are not comparable, even though the same brain conceived
them. The early works were conceived for a sophisticated, international
audience; the later works were conceived to affirm a way
of life for fellow citizens. However, in all of Prokofieff's music,
young or mature, we find his profile- his "signature"- his
craftsman's attitude. Prokofieff never forsakes his medium for the
cause of experimentation <per se>. In orchestration, he stretches
the limits of instrumentation with good judgment and a fine imagination
for color. His sense for rhythmic variety and timing is impeccable.
His creative development of melodic designs of Slavic dance tunes and
love songs is captivating: witty, clever, adroit, and subtle. His
counterpoint is pertinent, skillful, and rarely thick. Also,
it should be noted that the polytonal freedom of his melodies and harmonic
modulations, the brilliant orchestrations, the adroitness for evading
the heaviness of figured bass, the skill in florid counterpoint
were not lost in his mature output, even in the spectacular historical
dramas of the stage and cinema, where a large, dramatic canvas of sound
was required. That Prokofieff's harmonies and forms sometimes
seem professionally routine to our ears, may or may not indicate that
he was less of an "original" than we prefer to believe. Need for
novelty may be a symptom of cultural fatigue and instability.
Prokofieff might well emerge as a cultural hero, who, by the force of
his creative life, helped preserve the main stream of tradition, to which
the surviving idioms of current experimentalism may be eventually
added and integrated. At this date, it seems probable that the
name of Serge Prokofieff will appear in the archives of History,
as an effective Traditionalist, who was fully aware of the lure and danger
of experimentation, and used it as it served his purpose; yet
was never caught up in it- never a slave to its academic dialectics.
Certainly, it is the traditional clarity of his music which has endeared
him to the Western World- not his experimentations. So
Prokofieff was able to cultivate his musical talents and harvest a
rich reward from them. Nor can anyone be certain that Prokofieff would
have done better, or even as well, under different circumstances.
His fellow-countryman, Igor Stravinsky, certainly did not. Why did
Prokofieff expand in stature and fecundity, while Stravinsky (who leaped
into fame like a young giant) dwindled in stature and fruitfulness?
I think the answer is to be found in Prokofieff's own words:
"the clarity must be new, not old". When Prokofieff forged his
new clarity of "lucid, straightforward music, so difficult to compose",
he shaped his talents to his purpose. When Stravinsky
shaped his purpose to the shifting scenes of many cultures, many salons,
many dialectics, many personalities, he tried to refashion himself
into a stylist of many styles, determined by many disparate cultures.
Prokofieff was guided in a consistent direction by the life of his own
people- by the compass of their national ideas. But Stravinsky
was swayed by the attitudes of whatever culture he was reflecting. In
all his miscalculations, Stravinsky made the fatal historical blunder
of presuming that he could transform other composers' inspirations-
representing many peoples, time periods and styles- into his own
music by warping the harmony, melody, or form, to verify his own experiments.
Because of the authentic homogeneity of his early Nationalistic
materials, and his flair for orchestrations- his brilliant <Petruchka,>
his savage <Sacre du Printemps,> his incisive <Les Noces>-
the world kept hoping that he could recapture the historical
direction for which his native talents were predisposed. But
time is running out, and many of Stravinsky's admirers begin to fear
that he will never find <terra firma>. His various aesthetic postulates
remain as landmarks of a house divided against itself: Supra-Expressionism,
Neo-Paganism, Neo-Classicism, Neo-Romanticism,
Neo-Jazz, Neo-Ecclesiasticism, Neo-Popularism, and most recently,
Post-Serialism- all competing with each other within one composer!
What a patchwork of proclamations and renunciations! Meager
and shabby by-products linger to haunt our memories of a once mighty
protagonist;
a maladroit reharmonization of our National Anthem (<The
Star-Spangled Banner>); a poor attempt to write an idiomatic
jazz concerto; a circus polka for elephants; his hopes that the tunes
from his old music might be used for popular American commercial
songs! Stravinsky, nearing the age of eighty, is like a lost and frantic
bird, flitting from one abandoned nest to another, searching for
a home. How differently Prokofieff's life unfolded. Prokofieff
was able to adjust his creative personality to a swiftly changing
world without losing his particular force and direction. In the process,
his native endowments were stretched, strengthened and disciplined
to serve their human purpose. With a large and circumspect
20th-Century technique, he wove the materials of national heroes and
events, national folklore and children's fairy tales- Slavic dances
and love songs- into a solid musical literature which served his
people well, and is providing much enjoyment to the World at large.
Of course, it must not be forgotten that in achieving this historical
feat, Prokofieff had the vast resources of his people behind
him; time and economic security; symphony orchestras, opera and ballet
companies; choruses, chamber music ensembles; soloists; recordings;
broadcastings; television; large and eager audiences. It
must be conceded that his native land provided Prokofieff with many
of the necessary conditions for great creative incentive: economic
security and cultural opportunities, incisive idioms, social fermentations
for a new national ideology- a sympathetic public and a large
body of performers especially trained to fulfill his purpose. Thus
in Prokofieff the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics produced
one of the great composers of the Twentieth Century. That his moods,
even in his early years, are those of his people, does him honor,
as his music honors those who inspired it. That he mastered every aspect
of his medium according to his own great talents and contemporary
judgments, is a good and solid symbol of his people under the tremendous
pressures of proclaiming and practising the rigors of a new culture;
and perhaps of even greater significance- his music is strong 20th-Century
evidence of the effectiveness of Evolution, based on a broad
Traditionalism for the creative art of music.

April 10 marked a memorable date in New York's musical history-

indeed in the musical history of the entire eastern United States.
On that date the Musicians Emergency Fund, organized to furnish
employment for musicians unable to obtain engagements during the
depression and to provide relief for older musicians who lost their fortunes
in the stock market crash, observed its 30th anniversary.
ROY MASON IS ESSENTIALLY A LANDSCAPE PAINTER whose style and direction
has a kinship with the English watercolorists of the early nineteenth
century, especially the beautifully patterned art of John Sell
Cotman. And like this English master, Mason realizes his subjects
in large, simplified masses which, though they seem effortless, are
in reality the result of skilled design born of hard work and a thorough
distillation of the natural form that inspired them. As a
boy Roy Mason began the long process of extracting the goodness of the
out-of-doors, its tang of weather, its change of seasons, its variable
moods. His father, a professional engraver and an amateur landscape
painter, took his sons on numerous hunting expeditions, and imparted
to them his knowledge and love of nature. Out of this background of
hunting and fishing, it was only natural that Roy first painted subjects
he knew best: hunters in the field, fishermen in the stream, ducks
and geese on the wing- almost always against a vast backdrop of
weather landscape. It is this subject matter that has brought Mason
a large and enthusiastic following among sportsmen, but it is his exceptional
performance with this motif that commends him to artists and
discerning collectors. Mason had to earn the privilege of devoting
himself exclusively to painting. Like many others, he had to work
hard, long hours in a struggling family business which, though it was
allied to art of a kind- the design and production of engraved seals-
bore no relation to the painting of pictures. But it did teach
Roy the basic techniques of commercial art, and later, for twelve years,
he and his sister Nina conducted an advertising art studio in Philadelphia.
On the death of their father, they returned to their home
in Batavia, New York. After more years of concentrated effort, Roy
and his brother Max finally established a thriving family business
at the old stand. During all this time Roy continued to paint,
first only on weekends, and then, as the family business permitted,
for longer periods. Gradually he withdrew from the shop altogether,
and for the past thirty years, he has worked independently as a painter,
except for his continued hunting and fishing expeditions. But even
on these, the palette often takes over while the shotgun cools off!

Except for a rich friendship with the painter, Chauncey Ryder

who gave him the only professional instruction he ever had- and
this was limited to a few lessons, though the two artists often went on
painting trips together- Roy developed his art by himself. In the
best tradition, he first taught himself to see, then to draw with accuracy
and assurance, and then to paint. He worked in oil for years before
beginning his work in watercolor, and his first public recognition
and early honors, including his election to the Academy, were for
his essays in the heavier medium. Gradually watercolor claimed his greater
affection until today it has become his major, if not exclusive,
technique. It has been my privilege to paint with Roy Mason
on numerous occasions, mostly in the vicinity of Batavia. More often
than not I have found easy excuse to leave my own work and stand at
a respectable distance where I could watch this man transform raw nature
into a composed, not imitative, painting. What I have observed
time and time again is a process of integration, integration that begins
as abstract design and gradually takes on recognizable form; color
patterns that are made to weave throughout the whole composition;
and that over-all, amazing control of large washes which is the Mason
stylemark. Finally come those little flicks of a rigger brush and the
job is done. Inspiring- yes; instructive- maybe; duplicable-
no! But for the technical fact, we have the artist's
own testimony: "Of late years, I find that I like best to
work out-of-doors. First I make preliminary watercolor sketches in
quarter scale (approximately **f inches) in which I pay particular attention
to the design principles of three simple values- the lightest
light, the middle tone, and the darkest dark- by reducing the forms
of my subject to these large patterns. If a human figure or wild life
are to be part of the projected final picture, I try to place them
in the initial sketch. For me, these will belong more completely to
their surroundings if they are conceived in this early stage, though
I freely admit that I do not hesitate to add or eliminate figures on
the full sheet when it serves my final purpose. "I am thoroughly
convinced that most watercolors suffer because the artist expects
nature will do his composing for him; as a result, such pictures are
only a literal translation of what the artist finds in the scene before
him. Just because a tree or other object appears in a certain spot
is absolutely no reason to place it in the same position in the painting,
unless the position serves the design of the whole composition.
If the artist would study his work more thoroughly and move certain
units in his design, often only slightly, finer pictures would result.
Out of long experience I have found that incidental figures and other
objects like trees, logs, and bushes can be traced from the original
sketch and moved about in the major areas on the final sheet until they
occupy the right position, which I call 'clicking'. "Speed
in painting a picture is valid only when it imparts spontaneity
and crispness, but unless the artist has lots of experience so that
he can control rapid execution, he would do well to take these first sketches
and soberly reorder their design to achieve a unified composition.

"If I have seemed to emphasize the structure of the composition,

I mean to project equal concern for color. Often, in working
out-of-doors under all conditions of light and atmosphere, a particular
passage that looked favorable in relation to the subject will be
too bright, too dull, or too light, or too dark when viewed indoors in
a mat. When this occurs, I make the change on the sketch or on the
final watercolor- if I have been working on a full sheet in the field.

"When working from one of my sketches I square it up and

project its linear form freehand to the watercolor sheet with charcoal.
When this linear draft is completed, I dust it down to a faint
image. From this point, I paint in as direct a manner as possible, by
flowing on the washes with as pure a color mixture as I can manage.
However, first
I thoughtfully study my sketch for improvement of color and
design along the lines I have described. Then I plan my attack:
the parts I will finish first, the range of values, the accenting of
minor details- all in all, mechanics of producing the finished job
with a maximum of crispness. The longer I work, the more I am sure
that for me, at least, a workmanlike method is important. Trial and
error are better placed in the preliminary sketch than in hoping for miracles
in the final painting. "As for materials, I use the
best available. I work on a watercolor easel in the field, and frequently
resort to a large garden umbrella to protect my eyes from undue
strain. In my studio I work at a tilt-top table, but leave the paper
unfixed so that I can move it freely to control the washes. I have
used a variety of heavy-weight hand-made papers, but prefer an English
make, rough surface, in 400-pound weight. After selecting a sheet
and inspecting it for flaws (even the best sometimes has foreign 'nubbins'
on its surface), I sponge it thoroughly on both sides with
clean, cold water. Then I dry the sheet under mild pressure so that
it will lie flat as a board. "In addition to the usual tools,
I make constant use of cleansing tissue, not only to wipe my brushes,
but to mop up certain areas, to soften edges, and to open up lights
in dark washes. The great absorbency of this tissue and the fact that
it is easier to control than a sponge makes it an ideal tool for the
watercolorist. I also use a small electric hand-blower to dry large
washes in the studio.

"My brushes are different from those used

by most watercolorists, for I combine the sable and the bristle. The
red sables are @8; two riggers, @6 and @10; and a very large,
flat wash brush. The bristles are a Fitch @2 and a one-half
inch brush shaved to a sharp chisel edge. "My usual palette
consists of top-quality colors: alizarin crimson, orange, raw sienna,
raw umber, burnt sienna, sepia, cerulean blue, cobalt blue, French
ultramarine blue, Winsor green, Hooker's green @2, cadmium yellow
pale, yellow ochre, Payne's gray, charcoal gray, Davy's gray,
and ivory black". In analyzing the watercolors of Roy Mason,
the first thing that comes to mind is their essential decorativeness,
yet this word has such a varied connotation that it needs some elaboration
here. True, a Mason watercolor is unmistakably a synthesis
of nature rather than a detailed inventory. Unlike many decorative patterns
that present a static flat convention, this artist's pictures
are full of atmosphere and climate. Long observation has taught
Mason that most landscape can be reduced to three essential planes:
a foreground in sharp focus- either a light area with dark accents
or a dark one with lights; a middle distance often containing the
major motif; and a background, usually a silhouetted form foiled against
the sky. In following this general principle, Mason provides the
observer with a natural eye progression from foreground to background,
and the illusion of depth is instantly created. When painting,
Mason's physical eyes are half-closed, while his mind's eye
is wide open, and this circumstance accounts in part for the impression
he wishes to convey. He does not insist on telling all he knows about
any given subject; rather his pictures invite the observer to draw
on his memory, his imagination, his nostalgia. It is for this
reason that Roy avoids selecting subjects that require specific recognition
of place for their enjoyment. His pictures generalize, though
they are inspired by a particular locale; they universalize in terms
of weather, skies, earth, and people. By dealing with common landscape
in an uncommon way, Roy Mason has found a particular niche in American
landscape art. Living with his watercolors is a vicarious experience
of seeing nature distilled through the eyes of a sensitive interpretor,
a breath and breadth of the outdoor world to help man honor
the Creator of it all. The artist was born in Gilbert Mills,
New York, in 1886, and until two years ago when he and his wife moved
to California, he lived in western New York, in Batavia. When
I looked up the actual date of his birth and found it to be March
15th, I realized that Roy was born under the right zodiacal sign for
a watercolorist: the water sign of Pisces (February 18-March 20).
And how very often a water plane is featured in his landscapes, and
how appropriate that he should appear in AMERICAN ARTIST again,
in his natal month of March! Over the years, beginning in
1929, Mason has been awarded seventeen major prizes including two gold
medals; two Ranger Fund purchase awards; the Joseph Pennell
Memorial Medal; two American Watercolor Society prizes; the Blair
Purchase Prize for watercolor, Art Institute of Chicago;
and others in Buffalo, New York, Chautauqua, New Haven, Rochester,
Rockport, and most recently, the $300 prize for a watercolor at
the Laguna Beach Art Association, He was elected to the National
Academy of Design as an Associate in the oil class in 1931
(after receiving his first Ranger Fund Purchase Prize at the Academy
in 1930), and elevated to Academicianship in 1940. Other memberships
include the American Watercolor Society, Philadelphia Water
Color Club, Allied Artists of America, Audubon Artists, Baltimore
Watercolor Society.

The Russian gymnasts beat the tar out of the American gymnasts
in the 1960 Olympics for one reason- they were better. They were
better trained, better looking, better built, better disciplined **h
and something else- <they were better dancers>. Our athletes are
only just beginning to learn that they must study dance. The Russians
are all trained as dancers before they start to study gymnastics.

But why gymnastics at all? And is the sport really important?

After all, we did pretty well in some other areas of the Olympics
competition. But if it is important, what can we do to improve ourselves?
It is more than just lack of dance training that is our problem,
for just as gymnastics can learn from dance, dance has some very
important things to learn from gymnastics. Taking first things
first, let's understand the sport called gymnastics. It is made up
of tumbling, which might be said to start with a somersault, run through
such stunts as headstands, handstands, cartwheels, backbends, and
culminate in nearly impossible combinations of aerial flips and twists
**h and apparatus work. The apparatus used by gymnasts was once a
common sight in American gyms, but about 1930 it was dropped in favor
of games. The parallel bars, horse, buck, springboard, horizontal bar,
rings, and mats formerly in the school gyms were replaced by baseball,
volleyball, basketball and football. But the Russians use
gymnastics as the first step in training for all other sports because
it provides training in every basic quality except one, endurance. The
gymnast must develop strength, flexibility, coordination, timing,
rhythm, courage, discipline, persistence and the desire for perfection.
In short, gymnastics uses every part of the body and requires a great
deal of character as well. The addition of endurance training later,
when the body is mature enough to benefit from it without danger of injury,
provides that final quality that makes the top athlete, soldier
or citizen. Another reason gymnastic study is valuable is that
it can be started very early in life. (An enterprising teacher or parent
<could> start training a healthy child at the age of seven days.
Most Europeans have been exercising newborn infants for centuries.)
In most sports, as in most walks of life, the angels are on the side
of those who begin young, and the Russian competitor of 16 has at
least thirteen years of training behind him. The American is very lucky
if he has three. If a nation wished to get a head start in
physical fitness over all other nations, it would start its kindergarten
students on a program of gymnastics the day they entered and thus
eliminate a large number of the problems that plague American schools.
First of the problems attacked would be fatigue and emotional tension,
since action relieves both. Oddly enough, it is proven that there
would be less reading difficulty. Certainly there would be less anxiety,
fewer accidents (it is the clumsy child who sustains the worst injuries),
and higher scholastic averages, since alert children work better.
Russia knows this, and that is why there were over 800,000 competing
for places as candidates for the Olympic gymnastic team. Eighty
thousand won top honors and a chance to try for the team itself. We
could scarcely find eighty in our great land of over 180 million people.

And what has dancing to do with all this? A great deal.

Russia's young gymnasts have studied dance before having the rigorous
training on apparatus. Well-stretched, trained in posture and coordinated
movement, and wedded to rhythm, they presented the audiences
in
Rome with one of the most beautiful sights ever seen at any Olympic
contest. American audiences in particular learned two valuable lessons.
They saw completely masculine and obviously virile men performing
with incredible grace. They were further stripped of old wive's
tales
by seeing the slender, lovely Russian girls performing feats requiring
tremendous strength **h and with not one bulging muscle. President
Kennedy has asked that we become a physically fit nation. If
we wait until children are in junior high or high school, we will never
manage it. To be fit, one has to start early with young children,
and today the only person who really reaches such children is the teacher
of dance. If the dance teachers of America make it their business
to prepare their young charges for the gymnastics that must come
some day if our schools are really responsible, we will be that much
ahead. School teachers, all too unprepared for the job they must do,
will need demonstrators. There should be youngsters who know how to do
a headstand, and also how to help other children learn it. They should
know simple exercises that could prepare less fortunate children for
the sports we will demand be taught. Dance teachers can respond
to President Kennedy's request not only through their regular
dance work, but also through the kind of basic gymnastic work that makes
for strength and flexibility. Very little in today's living
provides the strength we need **h and nothing provides the flexibility.
Dancers do have flexibility. They often fail, however, to develop
real abdominal, back, chest, shoulder and arm strength. Ask any group
of ballerinas to do ten push-ups or three chin-ups and the results,
considering the amount of physical training they have had, will be
very disappointing. Even the boys will not be outstanding in these areas.
This isn't surprising when we consider that over 29 percent of
the 11-year-old boys in America <cannot chin themselves once>, and
that English school girls outdo them in almost every test (even dashes
and endurance). The only area in which American boys hold their own
is the baseball throw.

#THE CHINNING BAR#

For arm and shoulder

strength a chinning bar is recommended. It should be installed over
a door that is in full view of everyone, and a chair should be placed
under it, a little to one side. Those children who can chin themselves
should be told to do <one> chin up each time they pass under it.
Those who are too weak, should climb on the chair and, starting at the
top of the chin, let themselves <slowly> down. When they can take
ten seconds to accomplish the descent, they will have the strength to
chin <up>. Parents should be informed about this system and encouraged
to do the same with the whole family at home.

#THE HORSE KICK#

Arm, shoulder, chest, upper and lower back strength will be aided with
the Horse Kick. Start on hands and feet. Keeping the hands in
the starting position, run in place to a quick rhythm. After this has
become easy, use slower and slower rhythms, kicking higher and higher.
Follow this by crossing from one corner of the room to the other on
all fours, kicking as high as possible.

#PUSH-UPS#

Push-ups are
essential, but few have the strength for them at first. Start on the
knees in a large circle. Fall slowly forward onto the hands and let
the body down to rest on the floor. Push back up and repeat. Do this
exercise six times each class period. As strength improves start in
a standing position with legs wide apart and upper body bent forward.
Start by falling forward to a point close to the feet, and, as strength
improves, fall farther and farther out. Try to push back to the stand
position from the stretched position without any intermediate pushes
from the hands. The push-up itself can be taught by starting at the
<top> of the push-up with legs spread wide. Let the body down slowly,
taking at least five seconds for the letting <down>. Five of these
done daily for about a week will develop the strength for one push-<up>.

#HANDSTANDS#

Handstands come after arms, chest and shoulders

have developed at least a minimum of strength. Of course those
who have developed more will find them easier. Start with the class
standing in a circle, with weight on the right foot and the left extended
a little way into the circle. At first each child should do a kick
up by himself so that the teacher can determine those ready to work
alone, and those who need help. Drop both hands to the floor and at the
same time kick the right foot up in back. The left will follow at
once. The right will land first, followed by the left. Return to the
standing position. Care should be taken to see that the hands are placed
on the floor before the kick starts and also that the landing foot
is brought as close to the hands as possible. This will prevent flat
falls and toe injuries. Bare feet are better for such work than any
form of slipper. Eventually the class will be able to kick up high enough
so that the teacher can catch the leading leg. The child should
then bring both legs together overhead, point the toes and tighten the
seat muscles. Be sure that the landing foot is brought close to the
hands and that only one foot lands at a time.

#BACKBENDS#

The backbend
is of extreme importance to any form of free gymnastics, and,
as with all acrobatics, the sooner begun the better the results. Have
the class lie supine with knees apart and bent. Place flat palms on
either side of the head a few inches away from the ears, <fingers pointing
toward the shoulders>. Arch the back upwards to make a bridge.
Be sure the head drops backward so that the child looks at the floor
rather than toward the ceiling. As flexibility improves, the feet will
move closer to the hands and the bridge rise higher. Later this can
be combined with the handstand to provide a walkover.

#BACK CIRCLE#

To further increase back flexibility, work on the back circle. Have

the class lie prone. Place the hands in front of the chest. Keep
the legs straight and the toes pointed. Straighten the arms slowly,
this arches the back. At the peak of the arch, tip the head back and
bend the knees in an effort to touch toes to head. Improvement can be
measured by the lessening distance between toes and head.

#SOMERSAULTS#

The last essential to the beginner's gymnastic program is the

somersault, or forward roll. This used to be part of every child's
bag of tricks, but few children can do it today; some are actually
incapable of rolling forward and are completely confused when not sitting
or standing upright. For most small children, learning a forward
roll is simply a matter of copying another child who can. After it has
been seen, have the child start on a mat on hands and knees (a thin,
inexpensive mat is quite sufficient for anything that does not require
falling). He places the hands on either side of the head, keeping
the chin down on the chest. He then pushes his seat into the air and
the teacher guides it over. One or two practice runs should be sufficient
for solo. If, however, the child is weak, overweight, or afraid,
more help will be needed. When the child raises his seat into the air,
the teacher takes hold under both sides of the pelvis; then no matter
what happens, the child's performance will be controlled. By lifting
the seat upwards a little, the weight is taken off the neck and
the back is kept rounded. These are beginnings, but correctly
learned they prepare for satisfying and exciting stunts that can be performed
by a strong, flexible body (we are not talking of eccentric extremes).
Even if gymnastics are not the ultimate goal, the good tumbler
will be a better dancer, a better athlete, and a human being with
a greater margin of safety in any activity. It is very important
for parents to understand that early training is imperative. And dancing
school, so helpful in artistic and psychological development, also
contributes to this essential early training- and can contribute
even more.

EVERY taxpayer is well aware of the vast size of our annual

defense
budget and most of our readers also realize that a large portion
of these expenditures go for military electronics. We have noted how
some electronic techniques, developed for the defense effort, have evenutally
been used in commerce and industry. The host of novel applications
of electronics to medical problems is far more thrilling because
of their implication in matters concerning our health and vitality.

When we consider the electronic industry potential for human betterment,

the prospect is staggering. The author has recently studied
the field of medical electronics and has been convinced that, in this
area alone, the application of electronic equipment has enormous possibilities.
The benefits electronics can bring to bio-medicine may be
greater by far than any previous medical discovery. We use the term
"bio-medicine" because of the close interrelation between biology
and medical research. Electronics has been applied to medicine
for many years in the form of such familiar equipment as the x-ray machine,
the electrocardiograph, and the diathermy machine. Recently many
doctors have installed ultrasonic vibration machines for deep massage
of bruises,
contusions, and simple bursitis. Commonly used electronic
devices which are found in practically every hospital are closed-circuit
~TV and audio systems for internal paging and instruction,
along with radiation counters, timers, and similar devices.

In this article we will concentrate on the advances in the application

of electronics in bio-medical research laboratories because this
is where tomorrow's commonplace equipment originates. From the wealth
of material and the wide variety of different electronic techniques
perfected in the past few years we have selected a few examples which
appear to be headed for use in the immediate future and which offer completely
new tools in medical research.

#ULTRAVIOLET MICROSCOPY#

Many cells, bacteria, and other microorganisms are transparent to visible

light and must be stained for microscopic investigation. This stain
often disrupts the normal cell activity or else colors only the outside.
A completely new insight into living cells and their structure
will be possible by use of a new technique which replaces visible light
with ultraviolet radiation and combines a microscope with a color-~TV
system to view the results. Fig& 1 is a simplified block
diagram of the ultraviolet microscopy system developed at the Medical
Electronics Center of Rockefeller Institute. By combining the
talents of a medical man, Dr& Aterman, a biophysicist, Mr&
Berkely,
and an electronics expert, Dr& Zworykin, this novel technique
has been developed which promises to open broad avenues to understanding
life processes. Three different wavelengths of ultraviolet
radiation are selected by the variable filters placed in front of the
three mercury xenon lights which serve as the ultraviolet sources.
These wavelengths are reflected in sequence through the specimen by the
rotating mirror; the specimen is magnified by the microscope. Instead
of the observer's eye the image orthicon in the ~TV camera
does the "looking". The microscope and orthicon are both selected
to operate well into the ultraviolet spectrum, which means that all
lenses must be quartz. The video signal is amplified and then
switched, in synchronism with the three ultraviolet light sources which
are sequenced by the rotating mirror so that during one-twentieth of
a second only one wavelength, corresponding to red, green, or blue, is
seen. (Note: Because of light leakage from one ultraviolet source
to another, the lights are switched by a commutator-like assembly rotated
by a synchronous motor. This assembly also supplies a 20-~cps
switching gate for the electronics circuitry.) This is the same system
as was used in the field-sequential color-~TV system which preceded
the present simultaneous system. Three separate amplifiers then
drive a 21-inch tricolor tube. The result is a color picture of the
specimen where the primary colors correspond to the three different ultraviolet
wavelengths. Many of the cells and microorganisms which
are transparent to visible light, absorb or reflect the much shorter
wavelengths of the ultraviolet spectrum. Different parts of these cells
sometimes absorb or reflect different wavelengths so that it is often
possible to see internal portions of cells in a different color.
Where the microscope under visible light may show only vague shadows
or nothing at all, ultraviolet illumination and subsequent translation
into a color ~TV picture reveal a wealth of detail. At the
present time the research team which pioneered this new technique is
primarily interested in advancing and perfecting it.

#BREATHING-
ELECTRONICALLY ANALYZED#

The medical title of "Lobar Ventilation

in Man" by Drs& C& J& Martin and A& C& Young, covers
a brief paper which is one part of a much larger effort to apply electronics
to the study of the respiratory process. At the University
of Washington Medical School, the electronics group has developed
the "Respiratory Gas Analyzer" shown in Fig& 3. This unit,
affectionately dubbed "The Monster", can be wheeled to any convenient
location and provides a wealth of information about the patient's
breathing. In the lower center rack an 8-channel recorder
indicates the percentage of carbon dioxide and nitrogen from the upper
and lower lobes of one lung, the total volume of inhalation per breath,
the flow of air from both lobes, and the pressure of the two lobes
with respect to each other. Usually the patient breathes into a mouthpiece
while walking a treadmill, standing still, or in some other medically
significant position. From the resulting data the doctor can determine
lung defects with hitherto unknown accuracy and detail.

#HEART-MEASURING
TECHNIQUES#

The original electrocardiograph primarily

indicates irregularities in the heartbeat, but today's techniques allow
exact measurements of the flow of blood through the aorta, dimensioning
of the heart and its chambers, and a much more detailed study of
each heartbeat. For many of these measurements the chest must be opened,
but the blood vessels and the heart itself remain undisturbed.

A group of researchers at the University of Washington have given

a paper which briefly outlines some of these techniques. One simple
method of measuring the expansion of the heart is to tie a thin rubber
tube, filled with mercury, around the heart and record the change
in resistance as the tube is stretched. A balanced resistance bridge
and a pen recorder are all the electronic instrumentation needed.

Sonar can be used to measure the thickness of the heart by placing

small crystal transducers at opposite sides of the heart or blood vessel
and exciting one with some pulsed ultrasonic energy. The travel
time of sound in tissue is about 1500 meters per second thus it takes
about 16
|msec& to traverse 25 mm& of tissue. A sonar or radar-type
of pulse generator and time-delay measuring system is required for
body-tissue evaluation. In addition to the heart and aorta, successful
measurements of liver and spleen have also been made by this technique.
The Doppler effect, using ultrasonic signals, can be employed to
measure the flow of blood without cutting into the blood vessel.

A still more sophisticated system has been devised for determining

the effective power of the heart itself. It uses both an ultrasonic
dimensioning arrangement of the heart and a catheter carrying a thermistor
inserted into the bloodstream. The latter measures the heat carried
away by the bloodstream as an indication of the velocity of the blood
flow. It is also possible to utilize a pressure transducer, mounted
at the end of a catheter which is inserted into the heart's left
ventricle, to indicate the blood pressure in the heart itself. This pressure
measurement may be made at the same time that the ultrasonic dimensioning
measurement is made. A simplified version of the instrumentation
for this procedure is shown in Fig& 2. Outputs of the two
systems are measured by a pulse-timing circuit and a resistance bridge,
followed by a simple analogue computer which feeds a multichannel recorder.
From this doctors can read heart rate, change in diameter, pressure,
and effective heart power.

#RADIO-TRANSMITTER PILLS#

Several
years ago headlines were made by a small radio transmitter capsule
which could be swallowed by the patient and which would then radio internal
pressure data to external receivers. This original capsule contained
a battery and a transistor oscillator and was about 1 cm& in
diameter. Battery life limited the use of this "pill" to about 8
to 30 hours maximum. A refinement of this technique has been described
by Drs& Zworykin and Farrar and Mr& Berkely of the Medical
Electronics Center of the Rockefeller Institute. In this
novel arrangement the "pill" is much smaller and contains only a resonant
circuit in which the capacitor is formed by a pressure-sensing
transducer. As shown in Fig& 4, an external antenna is placed over
or around the patient and excited 3000 times a second with short 400-kc&
bursts. The energy received by the "pill" causes the resonant
circuit to "ring" on after the burst and this "ringing" takes
place at the resonant frequency of the "pill". These frequencies
are amplified and detected by the ~FM receiver after each burst
of transmitted energy and, after the "pill" has been calibrated,
precise internal pressure indications can be obtained. One of
the advantages of this method is that the "pill" can remain in the
patient for several days, permitting observation under natural conditions.
Applications to organs other than the gastrointestinal tract are
planned for future experiments.

#SONAR IN MEDICAL RESEARCH#

One
of the most gratifying applications of an important technique of submarine
detection is in the exploration of the human body. Our readers
are familiar with the principles of sonar where sound waves are sent
out in water and the echoes then indicate submerged objects. Various
methods of pulsing, scanning, and displaying these sound waves are used
to detect submarines, map ocean floors, and even communicate under water.
In medicine the frequencies are much higher, transducers and the
sonar beams themselves are much smaller, and different scanning techniques
may be used, but the principles involved are the same as in sonar.

Because the body contains so much liquid, transmission of

ultrasonic signals proceeds fairly well in muscles and blood vessels.
Bones and cartilage transmit poorly and tend to reflect the ultrasonic
signals. Based on this phenomenon, a number of investigators have used
this method to "look through" human organs. A good example of
the results obtainable with ultrasonic radiation is contained in papers
presented by Dr& G& Baum who has explored the human eye. He
can diagnose detachment of the retina where conventional methods indicate
blindness due to glaucoma. The method used to scan the eye ultrasonically
is illustrated in Fig& 6. The transducer is coupled to the
body through a water bath, not shown. For display, Dr& Baum uses
a portion of an **f, an airborne radar indicator, and then photographs
the screen to obtain a permanent record. A typical "sonogram"
of a human eye, together with a description of the anatomical
parts, is shown in Fig& 5. The frequency used for these experiments
is 15 mc& and the transducer is a specially cut crystal with an epoxy
lens capable of providing beam diameters smaller than one millimeter.
The transducer itself moves the beam in a sector scan, just like
a radar antenna, while the entire transducer structure is moved over a
90-degree arc in front of the eye to "look into" all corners.
The total
picture is only seen by the camera which integrates the many sector
scans over the entire 90-degree rotation period. Drs&
Howry
and Holmes at the University of Colorado Medical School have applied
the same sonar technique to other areas of soft tissue and have
obtained extremely good results. By submerging the patient in a tub
and rotating the transducer while the scanning goes on, they have been
able to get cross-section views of the neck, as shown in Fig& 7, as
well as many other hitherto impossible insights. As mentioned before,
bone reflects the sound energy and in Fig& 7 the portion of the
spine shows as the black area in the center. Arteries and veins are apparent
by their black, blood-filled centers and the surrounding white
walls. A cross-section of a normal lower human leg is shown in
Fig& 8 with the various parts labeled.

OERSTED'S boyhood represented a minimal chance of either

attaining greatness or serving his people so well and over so long a
span of life. He was born in the small Danish town of Rudkoebing on
the island of Langeland in the south-central part of Denmark on August
14, 1777. His father Soeren was the village apothecary whose slender
income made it difficult to feed his family, let alone educate
them in a town without even a school. The two older boys, Hans and Anders,
his junior by a year, therefore went daily to the home of a
warm
and friendly wigmaker nearby for instruction in German; his wife
taught the two boys to read and write Danish. Other brothers later joined
them for instruction with Oldenburg, the wigmaker, and also arithmetic
was added to Bible reading, German, and Danish in the informal
curriculum. Oldenburg's contributions were soon exhausted and the
boys had to turn to a wider circle of the town's learned, such as
the pastor, to supplement the simple teaching. From the town surveyor,
Hans learned drawing and mathematics and, from a university student,
some academic subjects. The mayor of the town taught them English
and French. Whatever Hans or Anders learned separately they passed
on to each other; they read every book that they could borrow in the
village. At 12, Hans was sufficiently mature to help his father in
the apothecary shop, which helped stimulate his interest in medicine
and science. His earlier love for literature and history remained with
him for his entire life. In 1793 the brothers decided to enter
the University of Copenhagen (founded in 1479) and the following
spring found them at the university preparing to matriculate for the
autumn session. While Hans devoted himself to the sciences of medicine,
physics, and astronomy, his brother studied law. The brothers continued
to help each other during their studies, sharing a joint purse,
lodging together in the dormitory and dining together at the home of
their aunt. They supplemented their income by small government assistance,
by tutoring and economizing wherever they could. So impressive
were those serious years of study at the university that Hans later
wrote, "to be perfectly free, the young man must revel in the great
kingdom of thought and imagination; there is a struggle there, in which,
if he falls, it is easy for him to rise again, there is freedom
of utterance there, which draws after it no irreparable consequences on
society **h. I lived in this onward-driving contest where each day
overcame a new difficulty, gained a new truth, or banished a previous
error". He openly proclaimed his pleasure in lecturing and writing
about science. In this third year at the university, Hans, in 1797,
was awarded the first important token of recognition, a gold medal for
his essay on "Limits of Poetry and Prose". He completed his training
in pharmacy also, taking his degree with high honors in 1797,
and in 1799 was awarded the degree of Doctor of Philosophy along with
a prize for an essay in medicine. He proposed a fresh theory of alkalis
which later was accepted in chemical practices.

#FERMENT OF SCIENTIFIC
ACTIVITY#

HAN'S STUDENT DAYS were at a time when Europe

was in a new intellectual ferment following the revolutions in America
and in France, Germany and Italy were rising from divisive nationalisms
and a strong wave of intellectual awareness was sweeping the
Continent. The new century opened with Oersted beginning
his professional career in charge of an apothecary shop in Copenhagen
and as lecturer at the university. He was stirred by the announcement
of Volta's
discovery of chemical electricity and he immediately applied
the voltaic pile to experiments with acids and alkalis. The following
year he devoted to the customary "Wanderjahr", traveling in
Germany, France, and the Netherlands, meeting the philosophers Schelling,
Fichte, and Tieck. He also met Count Rumford (born Benjamin
Thompson in Woburn, Mass&) who was then serving the Elector
of Bavaria, and the physicist Ritter; these were Oersted's main
contacts in science. From Go^ttingen (1801) where he stayed
for 10 days, he wrote, "The first question asked everywhere is
about galvanism. As everybody is curious to see the battery of glass
tubes I have invented, I have had quite a small one made here of
four glass
tubes (in Copenhagen I used 30) and intend to carry it with me".
Oersted joined Ritter at Jena and stayed with him for 3 weeks, continuing
their correspondence after he left. With Ritter he was exposed
to the fantastic profusion of ideas that stormed through his host's
fertile but disorganized mind. Oersted remodeled Ritter's notes
into an essay in French which was submitted to the Institut de France
for its annual prize of 3,000 francs. The sound discoveries of
this quixotic genius were so diluted by those of fantasy that the prize
was never awarded to him. In May, 1803, Ritter, in another flight
of fancy, wrote to Oersted a letter that contained a remarkable prophecy.
He related events on earth to periodic celestial phenomena and
indicated that the years of maximum inclination of the ecliptic coincided
with the years of important electrical discoveries. Thus, 1745 corresponded
to the invention of the "Leiden" jar by Kleist, 1764
that of the electrophorus by Wilcke, 1782 produced the condenser of
Volta, and 1801 the voltaic pile. Ritter proceeded, "You now emerge
into a new epoch in which late in the year 1819 or 1820, you will have
to reckon. This we might well witness". Ritter died in 1810 and
Oersted not only lived to see the event occur but was the author of
it. In 1803 Oersted returned to Copenhagen and applied for
the university's chair in physics but was rejected because he was probably
considered more a philosopher than a physicist. However, he continued
experimenting and lecturing, publishing the results of his experiments
in German and Danish periodicals. In 1806 his ambition was
realized and he became professor of physics at the Copenhagen University,
though not realizing full professorship (ordinarius) until 1817.

During Oersted's attendance at the university, it was poorly

equipped with physical apparatus for experimenting in the sciences.
He was, however, fortunate in his contact with Prof& J& G&
L& Manthey (1769-1842), teacher of chemistry, who, in addition to
his academic chair, was
also proprietor of the "Lion Pharmacy" in
Copenhagen where Oersted assisted him. Manthey maintained a valuable
collection of physical and chemical apparatus which was at Oersted's
disposal during and after his graduation. In 1800, Manthey went
abroad and Oersted was appointed manager of the Lion Pharmacy. In
February 1801, Oersted did manage to experiment with physical apparatus
and reported experiments made with a voltaic battery of 600 plates
of zinc and silver and of later experiments with a battery of 60 plates
of zinc and lead. In the following year, 1803, Oersted, simultaneously
with Davy, discovered that acids increased the strength of a voltaic
battery more than did salts. Eager as he was to pursue this promising
line, he was so loaded down with the management of the pharmacy
and lectures in the medical and pharmaceutical faculties at the university
that he could devote only Sunday afternoons to "galvanizing".

He assumed his academic career with the same intensity and

thoroughness that had marked every step in his rise from boyhood. The
university was the only one in Denmark and the status of professor
represented the upper social level. His broad interest in literary, political,
and philosophical movements opened many doors to him. His friends
were numerous and their ties to him were strong. The years
1812 and 1813 saw him in Germany and France again, but on this
visit to Berlin he did not seek out the philosophers as he had on his
first journey. In Berlin he published his views of the chemical laws
of nature in German and this was issued in French translation (Paris,
1813) under the title <Recherches sur l'identite des forces chimiques
et electriques,> a work held in very high esteem by the new
generation
of research chemists. His interest in finding a relationship between
voltaic electricity and magnetism is here first indicated. Chapter
/8, is entitled "On Magnetism" and in it are included such
remarks as, "One has always been tempted to compare the magnetic forces
with the electrical forces. The great resemblance between electrical
and magnetic attractions and repulsions and the similarity of their
laws necessarily would bring about this comparison. It is true, that
nothing has been found comparable with electricity by communication;
but the phenomena observed had such a degree of analogy to those
depending on electrical distribution that one could not find the slightest
difference **h. The form of galvanic activity is halfway between
the magnetic form and the electrical form. There, forces are more latent
than in electricity, and less than in magnetism **h. But in such
an important question, we would be satisfied if the judgment were that
the principal objection to the identity of forces which produce electricity
and magnetism were only a difficulty, and not a thing which is
contrary to it **h. One could also add to these analogies that steel
loses its magnetism by heat, which proves that steel becomes a better
conductor through a rise in temperature, just as electrical bodies do.
It is also found that magnetism exists in all bodies of nature, as
proven by Bruckmann and Coulomb. By that, one feels that magnetic
forces are as general as electrical forces. An attempt should be made
to see if electricity, in its most latent stage, has any action on the
magnet as such". His plan and intent were clearly charted.
Oersted returned in 1814 and resumed an active part in university and
political discussions. In one debate he supported the freedom of judgment
as opposed to dogma, in another he held that the practice of science
was in fact an act of religious worship. He continued as a popular
lecturer. He devised a detonating fuse in which a short wire was
caused to glow by an electric current. In 1819 under royal command
he undertook a very successful geological expedition to Bornholm,
one of the Danish islands, being one of three scientists in the expedition.
It was with the assistance of one of the members of this expedition,
Lauritz Esmarch, that Oersted succeeded in producing light
by creating an electric discharge in mercury vapor through which an electric
current was made to flow. Together they also developed a new
form of voltaic cell in which the wooden trough was replaced by one of
copper, thereby producing stronger currents. Esmarch was among those
who witnessed Oersted's first demonstration of his discovery.

#DISCOVERY
OF ELECTROMAGNETISM#

THE ASSOCIATION between electric

(both electrostatic and voltaic) forces and magnetic forces had been
recognized by investigators for many decades. Electrical literature
contained numerous references to lightning that had magnetized iron and
had altered the polarity of compass needles. In the late 1700's
Beccaria and van Marum, among others, had magnetized iron by sending
an electrostatic charge through it. Beccaria had almost stumbled on
a lead to the relationship between electricity and magnetism when a discharge
from a Leyden jar was sent <transversally> through a piece
of watch-spring steel making its ends magnetic. The resulting magnetic
effect proved stronger than when the discharge was made lengthwise.
The experiments of Romagnosi and others have already been noted but
no one had determined the cause-and-effect relationship between these
two primary forces. Oersted's own earlier experiments were unimpressive,
possibly because he had, like other experimenters, laid the conducting
wire across the compass needle instead of parallel with it.

The sequence of events leading to his important discovery still remains

ambiguous but it seems that one of the advanced students at the
university related that the first direct event that led to the publication
of Oersted's discovery occurred during a private lecture made
before a group of other advanced students in the spring of 1820. At
this lecture Oersted happened to place the conducting wire over and parallel
to a magnetic needle.
Knowing <specifically> what the many feed additives can do and
how and when to feed them can make a highly competitive business more
profitable for beef, dairy, and sheep men. The <target chart>
quickly and briefly tells you which additives do what. All the additives
listed here are sanctioned for use by the Food and Drug Administration
of the federal government. All comments concerning effectiveness
and use of drugs have been carefully reviewed by a veterinary
medical officer with ~FDA. This article assumes that the
rations you are feeding your beef, dairy cattle, and sheep are adequately
balanced with protein, vitamins, and minerals. The drug's
chemical name is listed, since most states require feed processors
to use this name instead of the trade name on the feed tag. In some instances,
the trade name is shown in parentheses following the chemical
name. This indicates that this drug is being marketed under one trade
name only or state regulatory organizations have approved its use on
the feed tag.

#HERE'S YOUR FEED ADDITIVE GUIDE FOR RUMINANTS:#

#DRUG'S CHEMICAL NAME:#

Oxytetracycline hydrochloride (Terramycin)

_WHAT IT DOES:_ Increases rate of gain and improves

feed efficiency, aids in the prevention or treatment (depending on level
fed) of the early stages of shipping fever, prevents or treats bacterial
diarrhea, and aids in reducing incidence of bloat and liver abscesses.
Milk production may be increased by the anti-infective properties
of this drug. _HOW TO FEED: BEEF CATTLE (FINISHING RATION)_-
To increase rate of gain and improve feed efficiency, feed 75 milligrams
per head in daily supplement. _CALVES_- To increase rate
of gain and improve feed efficiency, feed 10 to 25 grams per ton of complete
feed. As an aid in the prevention of bacterial diarrhea (scours),
feed 50 grams per ton of complete feed. For the treatment of bacterial
scours, feed 100-200 grams. For prevention or treatment of bacterial
scours, feed 0.1 to 5 milligrams per pound of body weight daily.

_BEEF AND DAIRY_- As an aid in reducing incidence and severity

of bloat, provide 75 milligrams of oxytetracycline hydrochloride per
animal daily. To reduce incidence of liver abscesses, supply 75 milligrams
of oxytetracycline activity per head daily. To prevent or treat
bacterial diarrhea, furnish 0.1 to 5 milligrams per pound of body weight
daily. For the prevention or treatment of the early stages of shipping
fever complex, increase feeding level to 0.5 to 2 grams per head
per day. For the best results, feed this level to cattle 3 to 5 days
preceding shipment and/or 3 to 5 days following their arrival in your
feed lot. For treatment of shipping fever, this level should be fed
at the onset of the disease symptoms until symptoms disappear. _SHEEP_-
To increase rate of gain and improve feed efficiency, feed 10
to 20 grams per ton. As an aid in the prevention of bacterial diarrhea
(scours), feed 50 grams per ton.

#DRUG'S CHEMICAL NAME:#

Chlortetracycline
(Aureomycin) _WHAT IT DOES:_ Increases gains,
improves feed efficiency, and reduces losses from bacterial infections
listed under "how to feed" section. Milk production may be increased
by the anti-infective properties of this drug. _HOW TO FEED:
BEEF_- Not less than 70 milligrams of Aureomycin per head daily
to aid in the prevention of liver abscesses in feed-lot beef cattle.
Prevention of bacterial pneumonia, shipping fever, as an aid in reduction
of losses due to respiratory infections (infectious rhinotracheitis-
shipping fever complex). Feed at level of 70 milligrams per head
per day. Treatment of the above diseases: 350 milligrams per head
per day for 30 days only. For prevention of these diseases during periods
of stress such as shipping, excessive handling, vaccination, extreme
weather conditions: 350 milligrams per head per day for 30 days
only. As an aid in reducing bacterial diarrhea and preventing foot
rot, feed not less than 0.1 milligram per pound of body weight daily.
To aid in the prevention of anaplasmosis, feed not less than 0.5 milligram
per pound of body weight daily. _DAIRY_- For calves, feed
not less than 50 grams of Aureomycin per ton complete feed as an aid
in preventing bacterial diarrhea and foot rot. For cows, feed providing
an intake of 0.1 milligram of Aureomycin per pound of body weight
daily aids in the reduction of bacterial diarrhea, in the prevention
of foot rot, and in the reduction of losses due to respiratory infection
(infectious rhinotracheitis- shipping fever complex). _SHEEP_-
As an aid in reducing losses due to enterotoxemia (overeating
disease),
feed a complete ration containing not less than 20 and not more
than 50 grams of Aureomycin per ton. To reduce vibrionic abortion in
breeding sheep, feed 80 milligrams per head daily.

#DRUG'S CHEMICAL
NAME:#

Dynafac _WHAT IT DOES:_ An aid in getting cattle

and sheep on full feed, in improving feed conversion and growth, in reducing
bloat and founder, and in controlling scours. _HOW TO FEED:
BEEF AND DAIRY CALVES_- 0.2 gram Dynafac per head daily (1 gram
of premix per head daily) for promoting growth, feed conversion, bloom,
and full feed earlier. _FEEDER CATTLE_- .0044% Dynafac in
a complete ration or 0.3 to 0.4 gram per head per day (200 grams of premix
per ton complete ration or equivalent. Animals consuming 20 pounds
feed daily receive 2 grams Dynafac). Aids in minimizing the occurrence
of feed-lot bloat due to high consumption of concentrates. _SHEEP
AND LAMBS_- 1.0 gram premix per head per day for promoting growth,
feed conversion, and getting lambs on full feed earlier.

#DRUG'S
CHEMICAL NAME:#

Diethylstilbestrol _WHAT IT DOES:_ Increases

rate of gain and improves feed efficiency. _HOW TO FEED: BEEF
CATTLE_- 10 milligrams of diethylstilbestrol per head daily.
This may be incorporated in complete feeds at the level of 0.4 milligram
of diethylstilbestrol per pound of ration- assuming animal consumes
about 25 pounds daily. The drug is also incorporated in supplements.
These are to be fed at a rate to provide 10 milligrams ~DES
per head daily. The recommended 10-milligram daily intake level should
be maintained. It may be incorporated into cattle creep feeds in levels
from 1.0 to 1.5 milligrams of diethylstilbestrol per pound of feed.

_SHEEP FATTENING RATIONS_- The recommended level for sheep is

2 milligrams daily, and this level should be maintained. Include supplement
containing 0.4 to 2 milligrams per pound to provide 2 milligrams
per head per day. _CAUTION:_ Discontinue medication 48 hours
before slaughter.

#DRUG'S CHEMICAL NAME:#

Hydroxazine hydrochloride

_WHAT IT DOES:_ Improves growth rate and feed efficiency

of fattening beef animals. _HOW TO FEED:_ At the rate of 2-1/2
milligrams per head per day.

#DRUG'S CHEMICAL NAME:#

Iodinated
casein _WHAT IT DOES:_ Drug elevates the metabolic rate of
the cow. Fed to dairy cattle to increase milk production and butterfat
percentage. _HOW TO FEED:_ 1 to 1-1/2 grams per 100 pounds of
body weight. _CAUTION:_ Cows receiving drug may not be officially
tested under breed registry testing programs.

#DRUG'S CHEMICAL
NAME:#

Bacterial and fungal enzymes. (These enzyme preparations

appear on today's feed tags as fermentation extracts of Bacillus subtilis,
Apergillus orzae, Niger, and Flavus.) _WHAT IT DOES:_
Improves utilization of low-moisture corn (less than 14%). _HOW
TO FEED:_ Greatest benefits have been associated with feeding low-moisture
corn in beef-feeding programs. Several firms are merchandising
enzyme preparation through feed manufacturers.

#DRUG'S CHEMICAL
NAME:#

Ronnel _WHAT IT DOES:_ Effectively controls cattle

grubs which damage hides and can reduce gains. _HOW TO FEED:_
Drug
is added to either a protein or mineral supplement for a period of
7 or 14 days. Follow manufacturer's recommendation carefully. _CAUTION:_
Do not feed to dairy cows and do not feed within 60 days
of slaughter.

#DRUG'S CHEMICAL NAME:#

Methyl polysiloxanes _WHAT

IT DOES:_ Aids in preventing foamy bloat. _HOW TO FEED:_
For prevention of foamy bloat, feed at a rate of 0.5 to 2 milligrams
per head per day in mineral or salt or feed. For treatment of bloat,
drug is fed at a higher level.

#DRUG'S CHEMICAL NAME:#

Phenothiazine

_WHAT IT DOES:_ Reduces losses from stomach, hookworm,

and nodular worms by interfering with reproduction of the female
worm by reducing the number of eggs laid and essentially rendering all
laid eggs sterile. Also, aids in the control of horn flies by preventing
them from hatching in the droppings. _HOW TO FEED:_ Treat
cattle with 10 grams per 100 pounds body weight with a maximum of 70
grams per animal. Then, for the above parasites, feed continuously at
these levels: Feeder cattle- 2-5 grams of phenothiazine daily;
beef calves- .5 to 1.5 grams daily depending on weight of animal. Treat
lambs with 12 grams per head for lambs weighing up to 50 pounds;
treat lambs over 50 pounds and adults with 24 grams per animal. For
continuous control, feed 1 part phenothiazine to 9 parts minerals or
salts. To include in feed, add phenothiazine to supply 0.5 to 1 gram
per sheep daily. _CAUTION:_ Continuous administration is not recommended
for lactating cows. Following single-dose treatment, milk
should be discarded for 4 days following treatment.

#DRUG'S CHEMICAL
NAME:#

Procaine penicillin _WHAT IT DOES:_ Aids in reducing

the incidence and severity of bloat in beef or dairy cattle on legume
pasture. _HOW TO FEED:_ Feed 75,000 units or 75 milligrams
per head daily.

#DRUG'S CHEMICAL NAME:#

Sodium propionate _WHAT

IT DOES:_ For the prevention or treatment of acetonemia (ketosis)
in dairy cows. _HOW TO FEED:_ For the prevention of acetonemia
(ketosis) feed 1/4 pound per day beginning at calving and continuing
for 6 weeks. For the treatment of ketosis feed 1/4 to 1/2 pound
per day for 10 days.

#DRUG'S CHEMICAL NAME:#

Sulfaquinoxaline

_WHAT IT DOES:_ Helps control shipping dysentery and coccidiosis

in lambs. _HOW TO FEED: LAMBS_- feed at .05% level for
2 or 3 days.

#DRUG'S CHEMICAL NAME:#

Dried rumen bacteria _WHAT

IT DOES:_ Stimulates rumen activity. _HOW TO FEED:_ Incorporated
in commercially prepared feed at proper levels.

#DRUG'S
CHEMICAL NAME:#

Calcium and sodium lactate _WHAT IT DOES:_

Prevents and treats acetonemia (ketosis) in dairy cows. _HOW TO FEED:_
For prevention of ketosis, feed 1/4 pound per head daily for
6 weeks commencing at calving time. For treatment of ketosis, feed
1/2 pound daily until symptoms disappear. Then, feed preventive dose
until 6 weeks after calving.

#DRUG'S CHEMICAL NAME:#

Promazine
hydrochloride _WHAT IT DOES:_ A tranquilizer fed to cattle (other
than lactating dairy cows) prior to their being subjected to stress
conditions such as vaccinating, shipping, weaning calves, and excessive
handling. _HOW TO FEED:_ Not less than .75 milligram but not
more than 1.25 milligrams of additive per pound of body weight. _CAUTION:_
Additive should not be fed 72 hours before animals are
slaughtered.
There are three principal feed bunk types for dairy and beef cattle:
(1) Fence-line bunks- cattle eat from one side while feed
is put in from the opposite side of the fence by self-unloading wagons;
(2) Mechanized bunks- they sit within the feed lot, are filled
by a mechanical conveyor above feeding surface; (3) Special bunks-
as discussed here, they permit cattle to eat from all sides. Feed is
put in with an elevator. Several materials or combinations of
materials can be used to construct a satisfactory feed bunk. The selection
of materials depends on skills of available labor for installation,
cost of materials available locally, and your own preference. No
one material is best for all situations. Selecting bunks by economic
comparison is usually an individual problem.

#FENCE-LINE FEEDING.#

Animals eat only from one side, so the fence-line bunk must be twice
as long as the mechanical bunk. These bunks also serve as a fence,
so part of the additional cost must be attributed to the fence. Because
of their location, on the edge of the feed lot, fence-line bunks are
not in the way of mechanical manure removal. Filling these bunks by
the same self-unloading wagons used to fill silos spreads cost of the
wagons over more time and operations. All-weather roads must
be provided next to the feeding floor so access will be possible all
year. This will be a problem in areas of heavy snowfall.
MARKETING in the new decade will be no picnic- for the sixties
will present possibly the most intense competitive activity that you
have experienced in the last 20-25 yr&. Why? Companies of
all types have made great advances in production capabilities and efficiencies-
in modern equipment and new processes, enlarged ~R+D
facilities, faster new product development. Many companies have upgraded
their sales manpower and tested new selling, distribution, and promotion
techniques to gain a bigger competitive edge. Given this
kind of business climate, what competitive marketing problems will your
company face in the next 10 yr&? Based on our experience with
clients, we see 14 major problems which fall into three broad groups-
the market place itself, marketing methods, and marketing management.

#1. PROBLEMS IN THE MARKET#

_@ GREATER PRICE-CONSCIOUSNESS._
There has been an intensification of price-consciousness in recent
years; there is every indication it will continue. Frequently, wittingly
or unwittingly, price-consciousness has been fostered by manufacturers,
distributors, and dealers. Despite generally good levels of
income, we see greater price pressures than ever before- traveling
back along the chain from consumer to distributor to manufacturer.

Here are some key areas to examine to make sure your pricing strategy
will be on target: Has the probable price situation in
your field been forecast as a basis for future planning? Have cost
studies been made of every phase of your operation to determine what might
be done if things get worse? Have you actually checked out (not
just mentally tested) different selling approaches designed to counter
the price competition problem? _@ INCREASED CUSTOMER SOPHISTICATION._
Average consumer is becoming more sophisticated regarding
product and advertising claims, partly because of widespread criticism
of such assertions. This problem can force a change in marketing approach
in many kinds of businesses. Have you examined this problem of
increasing consumer sophistication from the standpoint of your own company?
_@ GREATER DEMAND FOR SERVICES._ Need for service is here
to stay- and the problem is going to be tougher to solve in the
sixties. There are two reasons for this. First, most products tend to
become more complex. Second, in a competitive market, the customer
feels his weight and throws it around. {Providing good customer
service requires as thorough a marketing and general management planning
job as the original selling of the product}. Too often it is
thought of at the last moment of new product introduction. Good
service starts with product design and planning: Many products seem
to be designed for a production economy, not for a service one. Proper
follow-through requires training your own sales organization, and
your distributor organizations, not only in the techniques but also
in good customer relations. Have you assessed the importance of
service and given it proper attention? _@ WIDER DISCRETIONARY
CHOICES FOR CUSTOMERS._ In spending his money today, the consumer is
pulled in many directions. To the manufacturer of the more convenient-type
product- the purchase of which can be switched, delayed, or
put off entirely- the implications are important. Your competition
is now proportionately greater- you are competing not only against manufacturers
in the same field but also against a vast array of manufacturers
of other appealing consumer products. Many industry trade
associations are developing campaigns to protect or enhance the share
of the consumer's dollar being spent on their particular products.
Has your company thought through its strategy in this whole "discretionary
buying" area? _@ GEOGRAPHIC SHIFT OF CUSTOMERS._
The trends have been in evidence for many years- population shifts
to the Southwest and Far West, and from city to suburbs. These shifts
will continue in the next 10 yr&. Have you considered the implications
of continuing geographic shifts in terms of sales force allocation,
strength of distributor organizations, and even plant location?
_@ MARKET CONCENTRATION AND DISTRIBUTION IN FEWER ACCOUNTS._ We
have already witnessed great changes through mergers and acquisitions
in the food industry- at both the manufacturing and retail ends.
Instead of relatively small sales to many accounts, there are now larger
sales to or through fewer accounts. The change may require
different products, pricing, packaging, warehousing, salesmanship, advertising
and executive attention- practically every link in the marketing
network may have to be adjusted. Have you examined these trends,
forecast the effects, and planned your marketing strategy to compete
effectively under changing circumstances?

#2. PROBLEMS IN MARKETING

METHODS#

_@ MORE PRIVATE LABEL COMPETITION._ In the area

of private label competition, it is logical to expect a continuation of
trends which have been under way during the first decade. As mass dealer
and distributor organizations grow in size, there is every reason
to expect them to try to share in the manufacturer's as well as the
distributor's profits- which is, in effect, what the sale of private
brands tends to do. {Average manufacturer frequently has
helped build private brand business, delivering largely the same qualities
and styles in private brand merchandise as in branded}. Moreover,
the larger and more aggressive mass distribution outlets and chain
stores have insisted on high quality- and the customer seems to have
caught on. If you are up against private brand competition,
have you formulated a long-term program for researching and strengthening
your market position? If private brand competition hasn't been
felt in your product field as yet, have you thought how you will cope
with it if and when it does appear? _@ LESS PERSONAL SALESMANSHIP._
Display merchandising, backed by pre-selling through advertising
and promotion, will continue to make strides in the sixties. It
has multiple implications and possible headaches for your marketing program.

How can you cash in on this fast-growing type of outlet

and still maintain relationships with older existing outlets which are
still important? If you have a higher-quality product, how can you
make it stand out- justify its premium price- without the spoken
word? Salesmanship is still necessary, but it's a different brand
of salesmanship. Have you carefully examined the selling techniques
which best suit your products? Have you studied the caliber
and sales approaches of your sales force in relation to requirements
for effective marketing? Are you experimenting with different selling
slants in developing new customers? _@ HIGHER COSTS OF DISTRIBUTION
GENERALLY._ Some distribution costs are kept up by competitive
pressure, some by the fact that the customers have come to expect
certain niceties and flourishes. {No manufacturer has taken the initiative
in pointing out the costs involved}. The use of bulk
handling is continuously growing. Computers are being used to keep branch
inventories at more workable levels. "Selective selling"-
concentrating sales on the larger accounts- has been used effectively
by some manufacturers. There may be possible economies at any
one of a number of links in your marketing and distribution chain. Do
you have a program for scrutinizing all these links regularly and carefully-
and with some imagination? In your sales force, will a
smaller number of higher-priced, high-quality salesmen serve you best,
or can you make out better with a larger number of lower-paid salesmen?

Will your trade customers settle for less attention and

fewer frills in return for some benefit they can share? In one company
covering the country with a high-quality sales force of 10 men, the
president personally phones each major account every 6 mos&. As a
result, distribution costs were cut, customer relations improved.

Distribution costs are almost bound to increase in the sixties-

and you will never know what you can do to control them unless you study
each element and experiment with alternative ways of doing the job.
_@ HIGHER COSTS OF ADVERTISING AND PROMOTION._ From the manufacturer's
point of view, the increasing cost of advertising and promotion
is a very real problem to be faced in the sixties. It is accentuated
by the need for pre-selling goods, and private label competition.

How much fundamental thinking and research has your company

done on its advertising program? Are you following competition willy-nilly-
trying to match dollar for dollar- or are you experimenting
with new means for reaching and influencing consumers? Have you
evaluated the proper place of advertising and all phases of promotion
in your total marketing program- from the standpoint of effort, money,
and effectiveness? _@ INCREASING TEMPO OF NEW PRODUCT DEVELOPMENT._
Practically all forecasts mention new and exciting products
on the horizon. Will you be out in the market place with some of these
sales-building new products? If competition beats you to it,
this exciting new product era can have real headaches in store. On
the other hand, the process of obsoleting an old product and introducing
the new one is usually mighty expensive. As markets become larger
and marketing more complex, the costs of an error become progressively
larger. Is your ~R+D or product development program tuned
in to the commercial realities of the market? Are there regular communications
from the field, or meetings of sales and marketing personnel
with ~R+D people? {Technical knowledge is a wonderful thing,
but it's useless unless it eventually feeds the cash register}.

Are there individuals in your organization who can shepherd

a new product through to commercialization; who can develop reliable
estimates of sales volume, production, and distribution costs; and
translate the whole into profit and loss and balance sheet figures which
management can act on with some assurance? We have seen good new
products shelved because no one had the assignment to develop such facts
and plans- and management couldn't make up its mind.

#3. PROBLEMS
IN MARKETING MANAGEMENT#

_@ SHORTAGE OF SKILLED SALESMEN._

There is a shortage of salesmen today. In the future, quantitative
demand will be greater because of the expansion of the economy, and
the qualitative need will be greater still. While many companies
have done fine work in developing sales personnel, much of it has been
product rather than sales training. Nor has the training been enough
in relation to the need. Most marketing people agree it is going
to take redoubled efforts to satisfy future requirements. Have
you estimated your sales manpower needs for the future (both quantitatively
and qualitatively)? Has your company developed selection and
training processes that are geared to providing the caliber of salesmen
you will need in the next 10 yr&? _@ SHORTAGE OF SALES MANAGEMENT
TALENT._ With the growing complexity of markets and intensity
of competition, sales management, whether at the district, region or
headquarters level, is a tough job today- and it will be tougher in
the future. Men qualified for the broader task of marketing manager
are even more scarce due to the demanding combination of qualifications
called for by this type of management work. The growth of business
has outdistanced the available supply, and the demand will continue to
exceed the supply in the sixties. Does your company have a program
for selecting and developing sales and marketing management personnel
for the longer term? Does your management climate and your management
compensation plan attract and keep top-notch marketing people?
_@ COMPLEXITY OF COMPLETE MARKETING PLANNING._ Every single
problem touched on thus far is related to good marketing planning. "Hip-pocket"
tactics are going to be harder to apply. Many food and
beverage companies are already on a highly planned basis. They have
to be. With greater investments in plant facilities, with automation
growing, you can't switch around, either in volume or in product
design, as much as was formerly possible- or at least not as economically.

Are planning and strategy development emphasized sufficiently

in your company? We find too many sales and marketing executives
so burdened with detail that they are short-changing planning.

Are annual marketing plans reviewed throughout your management

group to get the perspective of all individuals and get everyone on the
marketing team? Do you have a long-term (5- or 10-yr&) marketing
program? The key to effective marketing is wrapped up in defining
your company's marketing problems realistically. Solutions
frequently suggest themselves when you accurately pinpoint your problems,
whether they be in the market, in marketing methods or in marketing
management. If companies will take the time to give objective
consideration to their major problems and to the questions they provoke,
then a long constructive step will have been taken toward more effective
marketing in next decade.
The controversy of the last few years over whether architects or interior
designers should plan the interiors of modern buildings has brought
clearly into focus one important difference of opinion. The architects
do not believe that the education of the interior designer is sufficiently
good or sufficiently extended to compare with that of the architect
and that, therefore, the interior designer is incapable of understanding
the architectural principles involved in planning the interior
of a building. Ordinary politeness may have militated against
this opinion being stated so badly but anyone with a wide acquaintance
in both groups and who has sat through the many round tables, workshops
or panel discussions- whatever they are called- on this subject
will recognize that the final, boiled down crux of the matter is
education. It is true that most architectural schools have five
year courses, some even have six or more. The element of public danger
which enters so largely into architectural certification, however,
would demand a prolonged study of structure. This would, naturally,
lengthen their courses far beyond the largely esthetic demands of interior
designer's training. We may then dismiss the time difference
between these courses and the usual four year course of the interior
design student as not having serious bearing on the subject. The
real question that follows is- how are those four years used and what
is their value as training? The American Institute of Interior
Designers has published a recommended course for designers and
a percentage layout of such a course. An examination of some forty
catalogs of schools offering courses in interior design, for the most
part schools accredited by membership in the National Association of
Schools of Art, and a further "on the spot" inspection of a number
of schools, show their courses adhere pretty closely to the recommendations.
One or two of the schools have a five year curriculum, but
the usual pattern of American education has limited most of them to
the four-year plan which seems to be the minimum in acceptable institutions.

The suggested course of the A&I&D& was based

on the usual course offered and on the opinion of many educators as to
curricular necessities. Obviously, the four year provision limits this
to fundamentals and much desirable material must be eliminated.

Without comparing the relative merits of the two courses- architecture

versus interior design- let us examine the educational needs
of the interior designer. To begin with, what is an interior
designer? "The Dictionary of Occupational Titles" published
by the U& S& Department of Labor describes him as follows: "Designs,
plans and furnishes interiors of houses, commercial and institutional
structures, hotels, clubs, ships, theaters, as well as set
decorations for motion picture arts and television. Makes drawings and
plans of rooms showing placement of furniture, floor coverings, wall
decorations, and determines color schemes. Furnishes complete
cost estimates for clients approval. Makes necessary purchases, places
contracts, supervises construction, installation, finishing and placement
of furniture, fixtures and other correlated furnishings, and follows
through to completion of project". In addition to this
the U& S& Civil Service Bureau, when examining applicants for
government positions as interior designers, expects that "when various
needed objects are not obtainable on the market he will design them.
He must be capable of designing for and supervising the manufacture
of any craft materials needed in the furnishings". This
seems like a large order. The interior designer, then, must first be
an artist but also understand carpentry and painting and lighting and
plumbing and finance. Yet nobody will question the necessity of all this
and any reputable interior designer does know all this and does practice
it. And further he must understand his obligation to the client
to not only meet his physical necessities but also to enhance and improve
his life and to enlarge the cultural horizon of our society.

Few will quarrel with the aim of the schools or with the wording
of their curriculum. It is in the quality of the teaching of all this
that a question may arise. The old established independent art
schools try their best to fulfill their obligations. Yet even here
many a problem is presented; as in a recent design competition with
a floor plan and the simple command- "design a luxury apartment";
no description of the client or his cultural level, no assertion of
geographical area or local social necessities- simply "a luxury
apartment". Working in a vacuum of minimal information can result only
in show pieces that look good in exhibitions and catalogs and may
please the public relations department but have little to do with the
essence of interior design. It is possible, of course, to work
on extant or projected buildings where either architect or owner will
explain their necessities so that the student may get "the feel"
of real interior design demands. Unfortunately, the purely synthetic
problem is the rule. It is like medical schools in India where,
in that fairy-land of religious inhibition, the dissection of dead
bodies is frowned upon. Instead they learn their dissection on the bulbs
of plants. Thus technical efficiency is achieved at the expense
of actual experience. In the earlier years of training certain
phases of the work must be covered and the synthetic problem has its
use. But to continue to divorce advanced students from reality is inexcusable.

Consultation with architects, clients, real estate men,

fabric houses and furniture companies is essential to the proper development
of class problems just as in actual work. Fortunately, although
only a few years ago they held the student at arms length, today
the business houses welcome the opportunity to aid the student, not only
from an increased sense of community responsibility but also from
the realization that the student of today is the interior designer of
tomorrow- that the student already is "in the trade". Even
the "history of furniture" can hardly be taught exclusively from
photographs and lantern slides. Here, too, the reality of actual furniture
must be experienced. The professional organizations such
as American Institute of Interior Designers, National Society
of Interior Designers, Home Fashions League and various trade associations,
can and do aid greatly in this work. Certainly every educator
involved in interior design should be a member and active in thework
of one of these organizations. Not only should every educator
above the rank of instructor be expected to be a member of one of
the professional organizations, but his first qualification for membership
as an educator should be so sharply scrutinized that membership
would be equivalent to certification to teach the subject.

Participation for the educator in this case, however, would have to

be raised to full and complete membership. The largest of these organizations
at present denies to the full time educator any vote on the
conduct and standards of the group and, indeed, refuses him even the
right to attach the customary initials after his name in the college catalog.

This anomalous status of the educator cannot fail to lower

his standing in the eyes of the students. The professor in turn
dares not tolerate the influence in his classes of an organization in
the policies and standards of which he has no voice. This seems
somewhat shortsighted since if the absolute educational qualifications
for membership which the organizations profess are ever enforced, the
educator will have the molding of the entire profession in his hands.

In one way the Institutes and Societies do a disservice to

the schools. That is in the continuance of the "grandfather clauses"
in their membership requirements. When these groups were
first formed many prominent and accomplished decorators could not have
had the advantage of school training since interior design courses were
rare and
undeveloped during their youth. Long hard years of "on the
job" training had brought them to their competence. The necessity
of that day has long disappeared. There is plenty of opportunity
for proper education today. It is discouraging for students to realize
that the societies do not truly uphold the standards for which they
are supposed to stand. The reason and the day of "grandfather
clauses" has long since passed. No one can deny that these "back
door" admissions to membership provisions have been seriously abused
nor that they have not resulted in the admission of downright incompetents
to membership in supposedly learned societies. Beyond
any question of curriculum and approach to subject must be the quality
of the teachers themselves. It will occur to anyone that the teacher
must have adequate education, a depth and breadth of knowledge far
beyond the immediate necessities of his course plus complete dedication
to his subject and to his students. The local decorator who rushes
in for a few hours of teaching may but more likely may not have these
qualifications. Nor will the hack, the Jack-of-all-trades, still
found in some of the smaller art schools, suffice. Only a
few years ago a middle western college circulated a request for a teacher
of interior design. At the end of its letter was the information
that applicants for this position "must also be prepared to teach costume
design and advertising art". This kind of irresponsibility toward
their students can scarcely build a strong professional attitude
in the future designer. We must build a corp of highly professional
teachers of interior design who have had education, experience
in the profession and are willing to take on the usual accompaniments
of teaching- minimal income and minimal status among their confreres.

Considerable specialization in teaching subjects such as architecture,

furniture design, textiles and color is also desirable.

In all "degree" courses in interior design a number of "academic"

or "general studies" courses are included. It is only fair
to demand that teachers of courses in English, history, psychology
and so on be as well informed in matters of art, especially interior
design, as are the art teachers educated in the academic subjects. The
proper correlation of the art with the academic can be achieved only
if this standard is observed. The matter of sympathy of the academic
professors for art objectives also must be taken into account.
One technical question of school organization comes to mind here. For
proper accreditation of schools, teachers in any course must have
a degree at least one level above that for which the student is a candidate.
Since there are almost no schools in the country offering graduate
work in interior design this rule cannot at present be observed.
Indeed, it has only been a matter of the last few years that reputable
schools of art have granted degrees at all. The question, however,
cannot be ignored for long. The basic problem involved is that a college
setting up a graduate school must have an entirely separate faculty
for the advanced degree. Most professors in the course must, naturally,
again have a higher degree than the course offers. One solution
is the aquisition of degrees in education but it is a poor substitute.
It is a sort of academic ring-around-a rosy and you solve it.
This brings us to the question of accreditation of art schools in general.
Only the independent art schools, that is, those not connected
with any university or college, receive severe and separate investigation
before accreditation by the various regional organizations. It has
been the custom for most universities to stretch the blanket of accreditation
for their liberal arts school to cover the shivering body of
their fine arts department. This, plus the habit of many schools of
simply adding interior design to the many subjects of their home economics
department, yet, nevertheless, claiming that they teach interior
design, has contributed to the low repute of many university courses
in interior design. In spite of this, many universities offer adequate
and even distinguished courses in the subject. There will be
no mitigation of these offences until all art schools, whether independent
or attached to universities have separate accreditation- as do
medical schools- by an art accreditation group such as the "National
Association of Schools of Art". Independent art schools
granting degrees must, naturally, follow this with academic accreditation
by the appropriate regional group.

#GENERAL#

How long has it been since you reviewed the objectives

of your benefit and service program? Have you permitted it to become
a giveaway program rather than one that has the goal of improved employee
morale and, consequently, increased productivity? What
effort do you make to assess results of your program? Do you measure
its relation to reduced absenteeism, turnover, accidents, and grievances,
and to improved quality and output? Have you set specific
objectives for your employee publication? Is it reaching these
goals? Is it larger or fancier than you really need? Are you using
the most economical printing methods, paper, etc&. Are there other,
cheaper communications techniques that could be substituted?

Has your attitude toward employee benefits encouraged an excess

of free "government" work in your plant? Is your purchasing
agent offering too much free-buying service for employees?

When improvements are recommended in working conditions- such as

lighting, rest rooms, eating facilities, air-conditioning- do you try
to set a measure of their effectiveness on productivity? When
negotiating with your union, do you make sure employees have a choice
between new benefits and their cents-per-hour cost in wages.

Can you consider restricting any additional employee benefits to those

paid for by profit-sharing money, such as was done in the union contract
recently signed by American Motors Corporation?

#INSURANCE#
Do your employees understand all the benefits to which your insurance
entitles them? Are they encouraged to take full legal advantage
of these benefits? Have you publicized the cents-per-hour value
of the company's share of insurance premiums? When did you
last compare your present premium costs with the costs of insurance
from other sources? Can your insurance company aid you in reducing
administrative costs? Do you try to maintain the principle
of employee-contributed (as opposed to fully company-paid) programs?

#HOLIDAYS, TIME OFF, OVERTIME#

Do you protect your holiday

privileges with an attendance requirement both before and after the holiday?

Do you plan to limit additional holidays to area and/or

industrial patterns? Have you investigated the possibility
of moving midweek holidays forward to Monday or back to Friday in
order to have an uninterrupted work week? Are you carefully
policing wash-up time and rest periods to be certain that all other time
is productive? Are you watching work schedules for boiler
operators, guards, and other 24-hour-day, 7-day-week operations in order
to minimize overtime? Are you careful to restrict the number
of people on leave at one time so that your total employment obligation
is minimized?

#PLANT FEEDING FACILITIES#

Have you considered

using vending equipment to replace or reduce the number of cafeteria
employees? What are the possibilities for operating your
cafeteria for a single shift only and relying upon vending machines
or prepackaged sandwiches for the second- and third-shift operations?

Have you checked the cost of subcontracting your cafeteria

operation in order to save administrative costs? Are there
possibilities of having cafeteria help work part-time on custodial or
other jobs? Can staggered lunch periods relieve the capacity
strain on your feeding facilities? Would it be feasible to
limit the menu in order to reduce feeding costs? Have you considered
gradual withdrawal of subsidies to your in-plant feeding operation?

Are you utilizing cafeteria space for company meetings

or discussions?

#RECREATION FACILITIES#

Are your expenses in

this area commensurate with the number of employees who benefit from
your program? Have you audited your program recently to weed
out those phases that draw least participation? Do employees
contribute their share of money to recreational facilities?
Have you considered delegating operational responsibility to your employee
association and carefully restricting your plant's financial
contribution? Could an employee's garden club take over partial
care of plant grounds? Would a camera club be useful in taking
pictures pertinent to plant safety? Are you spending too much
money on team uniforms that benefit only a few employees? Are you
underwriting expensive team trips? Are you utilizing vending
machine proceeds to help pay for your program?
#TRANSPORTATION
AND PARKING#

Do you know the trend in your cost of maintaining access

roads and parking lots? If you use parking attendants, can
they be replaced by automatic parking gates? Will your local
bus company erect and/or maintain the bus stops at your plant?

If you provide inter-plant transportation, can this be replaced

by available public transportation? If you use company transportation
to meet trains or to haul visitors, would taxis be cheaper?

How efficient and necessary are your intra-company vehicles? Can

they be re-scheduled? Can part-time drivers be assigned to other
productive work?

#PAID VACATIONS#

Which is more economical for

your plant- a vacation shutdown or spaced vacations that require extra
employees for vacation fill-ins? Can vacations be spaced
throughout the 12 months to minimize the number of employee fill-ins?

Do you insist that unneeded salary employees take their vacations

during plant shutdowns? What can your sales and purchasing
departments do to curtail orders, shipments, and receipts during vacation
shutdown periods?

#RETIREMENT#

Is an arbitrary retirement
age of 65 actually costing your plant money? What sort of
effort do you make to assure that older or disabled workers are fully
productive? Would early retirement of non-productive, disabled employees
reduce the number of make-work jobs? Will your union
accept seniority concessions in assigning work for older or disabled employees?

#MEDICAL AND HEALTH#

Can you share medical facilities

and staff with neighboring plants? If you have a full-time
doctor now, can he be replaced with a part-time doctor or one who serves
on a fee-per-case basis only? Can your plant nurse be replaced
by a trained first-aid man who works full-time on some other assignment?

Do you rigidly distinguish between job- and non-job-connected

health problems and avoid treating the latter? Are
you indiscriminantly offering unnecessary medical services- flu shots,
sun lamp treatments, etc&? If you have an annual or regular
physical examination program, is it worth what it is costing you?

#A PROGRAM TO FIT YOUR NEEDS#

Consider what you can afford

to spend and what your goals are before setting up or revamping your employee
benefit program. Too many plant officials are all too eager to
buy a package program from an insurance company simply because it works
for another plant. But even if that other plant employs the
same number of workers and makes the same product, there are other facts
to consider. How old is your working force? What's your profit
margin? In what section of the country are you located? Are
you in a rural or urban area? These factors can make the difference
between waste and efficiency in any benefit program. Above all,
don't set up extravagant fringe benefits just to buy employee good
will. Unions stress fringe benefits, but the individual hourly worker
prefers cash every time. Aim to balance your employee benefit
package. Some plants go overboard on one type of fringe- say a liberal
retirement plan- and find themselves vulnerable elsewhere. They're
asking for union trouble.

#COMMUNICATIONS#

If you want credit

for your employee services program, let your workers know what they're
entitled to. Encourage them to exercise their benefits. This
can be done by stories in your house organs, posters, special
publications, letters to workers' homes as well as
by word of mouth through your chain of command. Some companies
find a little imagination helpful. Hallmark Cards, Inc&, Kansas
City, Mo&, has a do-it-yourself quiz game called "Benefit Bafflers",
which it distributes to employees. ~M + ~R Dietetic Laboratories,
Inc&, Columbus, gives all its workers a facsimile checkbook-
each check showing the amount the company spends on a particular
fringe. U& S& Rubber Company, New York, passes out a form
itemizing the value of benefits. The blue-collar worker thus knows
his insurance package, for example, costs $227.72.

#INSURANCE#

Have
the insurance company or your own accounting department break down
the cost of your insurance package periodically. You may find certain
coverage costing much more than is economically feasible, thereby alerting
you to desirable revisions. Check to see if some of your
benefits- such as on-the-job disability pay- can be put on a direct
payment rather than an insured basis at a savings to you.
Use deductable insurance wherever feasible. It can put an end to marginal
claims which play havoc with your insurance rates. Also, beware
of open-end policies, especially in the medical field. This will mean
that every time there's an increase in hospital rates your cost will
go up in like manner. Put a dollar-and-cents limit on benefits.

Don't go overboard on insurance that pays benefits only upon death.

Generally, your employee will greatly appreciate benefits that
protect him during his working life or during retirement.

#SPECIAL TIME
OFF#

In granting bereavement leaves, specify the maximum time off

and list what the worker's relation to the deceased must be to qualify.
Thus, you avoid headaches when an employee wants off for his fourth
cousin's funeral. Also, reserve the right to demand proof of
death despite the fact that you'll probably never use it. Coffee
breaks can be a real headache if not regulated. Vending machines
can alleviate the long hike to the cafeteria during the break with resulting
waste of production time. If coffee is sold at the cafeteria,
let a few workers in each department get it for the whole group. Consider
installing supplemental serving lines in production areas. Make
sure milk for the coffee is placed in dispensers rather than in containers,
if you are supplying the coffee. Otherwise, you may be saddled
with a good-size milk bill by milk drinkers.

#RETIREMENT POLICIES#

Keep the retirement age flexible so skilled craftsmen such as tool

and die makers can be kept on the job for the convenience of the company.
And so deadheads on the payroll can be eased out at the earliest
possible age. Make sure you have minimum age and time-on-the-job requirements
tied into your pension plan. Younger men usually don't think
of pensions as an important job benefit factor anyhow and they're
liable to change jobs several times before settling down. Choose
carefully between contributory or non-contributory pension plans.
There are two sides of a coin for this decision. Workers usually think
more of a plan they contribute to. And they can at least collect
the money they put in, plus interest, when they leave the company. A
non-contributory plan usually won't pay off for the worker until he
retires. Thus, there is an added incentive to stay on the job.

#HOLIDAYS#

Make sure you don't pay for holidays that occur when an employee
would not otherwise be working. These include: leaves of absences,
illnesses, and layoffs. Consider adopting a system of holidays
in which time off is granted with an eye to minimum inconvenience
to the operation of the plant. It's usually not too hard to sell
workers on this as it gives them longer holiday periods. For example,
the Friday after Thanksgiving can be substituted for Washington's
birthday. This reduces the number of expensive plant shutdowns and
startups. Require each employee to work his last shift both
before and after the holiday to be eligible for pay. This cuts the absentee
rate.

#EATING FACILITIES#

Consider using vending machines

rather than subsidized cafeterias. Latest models serve hot meals at reasonable
prices, and at a profit to you. If a concessionaire runs the
cafeteria, keep an eye out for quality and price. If the soup tastes
like dishwater, your employees won't blame the concessionaire. You'll
take the rap. Check your cafeteria location to make sure
it's convenient for most employees. You may save valuable production
minutes with a change.

#VACATIONS#

Spread your vacation period

over the widest possible span of time or shut the plant down for two
weeks. This will cut the expense of vacation replacements. And with
the shutdown method there will be no argument as to who gets the choice
vacation dates. Also make sure you have reasonable requirements
as to hours worked before a production employee is entitled to a
vacation. You might try providing standard vacation time off but make
the vacation pay depend on the number of hours worked in the previous
year.
THE LONG and ever-increasing column of sportsmen is now moving into
a new era. Modern times have changed the world beyond recognition.
The early years of the twentieth century seem very far away. But with
all the changes in philosophy, dress and terrain- a few things remain
constant, including the devotion of Americans to the great field
sports, hunting and fishing. As the generations move on, clothes
become more suitable for the enjoyment of outdoor sports. Sporting
firearms change, markedly for the better. Just as modern transportation
has outmoded the early Studebaker covered wagon, the demand of
today's sportsmen and women has necessitated changes in their equipment.

The American firearms and ammunition manufacturers through

diligent research and technical development have replaced the muzzle
loader and slow-firing single-shot arms with modern fast firing auto-loaders,
extremely accurate bolt, lever, and slide action firearms. And
millions of rounds of entirely new and modern small-arms ammunition,
designed for today's hunting and target shooting. And due
to modern resource-use and game management practices, there is still
game to shoot, even with the ever-expanding encroachment on land and
water. Present conservation practices regard wildlife, not as an expendable
natural resource, but as an annual harvest to be sown and also
reaped. Unlimited game bags are possible and legal in more than 40 states,
on shooting preserves (one of the newer phases of modern game-management)
for five and six months each year. Close to two million
game birds were harvested on 1,500 commercial and private shooting
preserves, and on State Game Commission-controlled upland game areas
during the 1960-61 season. The shooting development program of the
Sporting Arms and Ammunition Manufacturers' Institute has successfully
published these facts in all major outdoor magazines, many national
weeklies and the trade papers. The most effective way to
develop more places for more sportsmen to shoot is to encourage properly
managed shooting preserves. This has been the aim of the director
of the shooting development program, the New York staff of the Sportsmen's
Service Bureau, and the ~SAAMI shooting preserve
field consultants since the start of the program in 1954. Following
the kick-off of ~SAAMI's shooting development program
in 1954, a most interesting meeting took place in Washington, D& C&.
The group known as the American Association for Health, Physical
Education, and Recreation (a division of the National Education
Association) initiated a conference which brought together representatives
of the National Rifle Association, ~SAAMI and the American
Fishing Tackle Manufacturers. This meeting was called to
determine how these groups might cooperate to launch what is known as
the Outdoor Education Project. The Outdoor Education Project
took cognizance of the fact, so often overlooked, that athletic
activities stressed in most school programs have little or no relationship
to the physical and mental needs and interests of later life. The
various team sports assuredly have their place in every school, and
they are important to proper physical development. But with the exception
of professional athletes, few contact sports and physical education
activities in our schools have any carryover in the adult life of
the average American man or woman. Following a vigorous campaign
of interpretation and leadership development by ~OEP director
Dr& Julian Smith, today thousands of secondary schools, colleges
and universities have shooting and hunting education in their physical
education and recreation programs. ~SAAMI's financial support
since 1955 has contributed to the success of this project in education.
Personnel assigned through the shooting development program have
proudly participated in over 53 state and regional workshops, at which
hundreds of school administrators, teachers, professors, and recreational
leaders have been introduced to Outdoor Education. Considering
that the current school-age potential is 23 million youths, the project
and its message on hunting and shooting education have many more
to reach. In 1959 ~SAAMI's shooting development program
announced a new activity designed to expose thousands of teen-age boys
and girls to the healthy fun enjoyed through the participation in
the shooting sports. This program is now nationally known as "Teen
Hunter Clubs". Teen Hunter Clubs were initially sponsored
by affiliated members of the Allied Merchandising Corporation.
The first program was sponsored by Abraham + Strauss, Hempstead, New
York, under the direction of Special Events director Jennings
Dennis. Other pilot programs were conducted by ~A + ~S, Babylon,
New York; J& L& Hudson, Detroit; Joseph Horne, Pittsburgh.

Other ~THC activities followed, conducted by shopping

centers, department stores, recreation equipment dealers, radio-~TV
stations, newspapers, and other organizations interested in the
need existing to acquaint youngsters with the proper use of sporting
firearms and the development of correct attitudes and appreciations
related to hunting and wise use of our natural resources. ~SAAMI's
field men have served as consultants and/or have participated in
75 Teen Hunter Club activities which have reached over 40,000 enthusiastic
young Americans. Through the efforts of ~SAAMI's
shooting development program these shooting activities, and many
others, including assists in the development of public and privately
financed shooting parks, trap and skeet leagues, rifle and pistol marksmanship
programs have been promoted, to mention only a few. The
continuation and expansion of the shooting development program will
assure to some degree that national and community leaders will be made
aware of the ever-growing need for shooting facilities and activities
for hunting and shooting in answer to public demand. While individual
sportsmen are aware of this situation, too many of our political,
social, educational and even religious leaders too often forget it. Help
is needed from dealers, at the grass-roots level. The American
gun and ammunition producers sponsor a successful promotional program
through their industry trade association. Since ~SAAMI's
conception in 1926, and more specifically since the adoption of the
Shooting Development Program in 1954, millions of dollars and promotional
man-hours have gone into the development of more places to shoot
for more youths and adults. We trust that you, as a gun and ammunition
dealer, have benefited through additional sales of equipment.

Are you getting top dollar from the shooting sports? Are you looking
ahead to the exploding market of millions of American boys and
girls, who will grow up to enjoy a traditional American way of life-
ranging the fields with a fine American gun and uniformly excellent
ammunition? <Is your
sporting firearms and ammunition department
primed for the expanding horizons?> Would you like to
organize Teen Hunters Clubs, shooting programs, and have information
on seasons including six months of hunting with unlimited game bags
on shooting preserves? Ask Sammy Shooter.
WE WERE CAMPING a few weeks ago on Cape Hatteras Campground in
that land of pirates, seagulls and bluefish on North Carolina's
famed Outer Banks. This beach campground with no trees or hills presents
a constant camping show with all manner of equipment in actual
use. With the whole camp exposed to view we could see the variety
of canvas shelters in which Americans are camping now. There were
umbrella tents, wall tents, cottage tents, station wagon tents, pup
tents, Pop tents, Baker tents, tents with exterior frames, camper trailers,
travel trailers, and even a few surplus parachutes serving as
sunshades over entire family camps. Moving around camp we saw
all kinds of camp stoves, lanterns, coolers, bedding, games, fishing tackle,
windbreaks and sunshades. We saw similar displays in the other
three campgrounds in this 70 mile-long National Seashore Recreation
Area. Dealers would do well to visit such a campground often, look
at the equipment and talk with the campers. Here you begin to appreciate
the scope of the challenges and possibilities facing the industry.

Camping is big and getting bigger. No one knows where it will

stop. Almost every official who reflects on it thinks this movement
of Americans to canvas dwellings opens one of the most promising of
all outdoor markets. You read various guesses on how many Americans
are camping. The number depends on who is talking at the moment. The
figures range as high as 15 million families. I've heard 10 million
mentioned often, but I'm more inclined to think there may be a
total of some five to seven million families camping. Seven million families
would total 30 million Americans or more. Consider the equipment
needed to protect this many from the weather, to make their cooking
easy and their sleeping comfortable.

#MORE CAMPERS THAN CAMPSITES#

Harassed state park officials often have more campers than they
know what to do with. They are struggling to meet the demand for camping
space, but families are being turned away, especially on holiday
weekends. The National Parks, always popular camping places, are facing
the same pressure. The National Park Service hopes by 1966 to
have 30,000 campsites available for 100,000 campers a day- almost
twice what there are at present. The U& S& Forest Service cares
for hundreds of thousands of campers in its 149 National Forests
and is increasing its facilities steadily. But the campers still
come. They bring their families and tents and camp kitchens and bedding.
They bring their fishing rods and binoculars and bathing suits.
They come prepared for family fun because Americans in ever-growing
numbers are learning that here is the way to a fine economical vacation
that becomes a family experience of lasting importance.

#WHY THEY
KEEP COMING#

There are a half dozen reasons helping to account for

the migration to the campgrounds. Among them, according to the U&
S& Department of Commerce, are: (1) shorter work weeks, (2)
higher pay, (3) longer paid vacations, (4) better transportation, (5)
earlier retirement, and (6) more education. The more people learn about
their country, the more they want to learn. Camping is family fun,
and it is helping more Americans see more of the country than they ever
saw before. But make no mistake about it, the first reason
people turn to camping is one of economy. Here is the promise of a vacation
trip they can afford. The American Automobile Association,
computing the cost for two people to vacation by automobile, comes
up with an average daily expenditure figure of $29. The ~AAA
then splits it down this way: $10.50 for meals, $9.50 for lodging,
$7 for gas and oil, and $2 for tips and miscellaneous. What does
the camping couple do to this set of figures? The $9.50 for lodging
they save. Because they prepare their own meals they also keep in
their pockets a good portion of that $10.50 food bill along with most
of the tip money. The automobile expenses are about the only vacationing
cost they can't either eliminate or pare down drastically by camping
along the way. Where Americans used to think of a single
vacation each summer, they now think about how many vacations they
can have. Long weekends enable many to get away from home for three or
four days several times a year. And even if they stay in resorts part
of the time, they might, if the right salesman gets them in tow, develop
a yearning to spice the usual vacation fare with a camping trip
into the wide open spaces. It would be a mistake to sell those
thousands of beginning campers on the idea they're buying the comforts
of home. They're not. Home is the place to find the comforts of
home. They're buying fun and adventure and family experiences. But
it would also be a mistake for them not to realize how comfortable
camping has become. This is no longer a way of life for the bearded
logger and the wandering cowboy. Today's campers want comforts, and
they have them. And this helps explain why so many people are now going
camping. It's fun, and it's easy- so easy that there is time
left after cooking, and tent keeping, for the women to get out and
enjoy outdoor fun with their families. Camp meals are no great
problem. Neither are beds, thanks to air mattresses and sleeping bags.
Neither are shelters, because there is one to meet the needs of every
camper or prospective camper. But there is still the sometimes
complex problem of helping campers choose the best equipment for
their individual needs.
@ Throughout history, the man who showed superior performance has become
the commander of others- for good or bad. Since the Industrial
Revolution, when factories emerged, this classical pattern has been
followed. {Until recently.} There have always been tales
of disillusionment- the competent technician who became an administrator,
willingly or not, and found he didn't like it; the scientist
who rebelled against the personnel and paper work; and much more
commonly in recent years, the engineer who found that other duties interfered
with- or eliminated- his engineering contributions. {There
have been many extremely competent men who have been converted into
very incompetent managers or submerged in paper work, to their own and
the public's dissatisfaction and loss.} This has been more
evident since our products have incorporated astronomically increased
technology. The remedies have been many and varied- attempts to
teach management techniques- either in plant, at special schools,
or
in university "crash" courses- provision of management-trained assistants
or associates. {But the realization has been growing that
these are not the complete answer.} Some men have no talent for or
interest in management; forcing them into management can only create
trouble. The old shop adage still holds: "A good mechanic is usually
a bad boss". Yet our economy clings inexorably to recognition
of managerial status as the gage of success. Labor fights to
change its collar from blue to white. All grades of management seek
more resounding titles and incomes because of social pressures. As several
recent books have over-emphasized, {we have become the most status-conscious
nation in the world.} {What can be done for
the "individual contributor"} who is extremely important- and
likely to be more so- in the operation of the technically oriented
company? He is usually conscious of the social pressures at home and
outside; usually concerned about America's belief that attainment
and success are measured in dollars and titles. Yet titles are traditionally
given only to management men, and income tends to rise with
title. Even the college professor in America has been affected.
It is, as one engineer says, "indeed a difficult thing for the
engineer to accept that he can go as far on his technical merit as he
could employing managerial skills. This difficulty arises even though
we can give examples of men who have actually followed this course. This
leads one to conclude, as you have, that there is inevitably more
prestige in a management position in the minds of our people".

Nobody should be more able to answer the questions on this score than
engineering vice-presidents and chief engineers. So we asked such
men in major companies in the design field to offer their opinions on
the "dual-road-up" problem- and more importantly- their solutions.
In the paragraphs that follow, we quote from 32 men who are identified
on the final page.

#FIRST: WHAT TITLE, WHAT SETUP?#

Among
the more familiar plans for dual-channel advancement is that of
General Electric. {This is not a mutually exclusive plan; there
is no one point in a man's career at which he must select either the
technical or the managerial path upward. Further, the management path
does not open the door to higher opportunities than are offered by
the more technical path. It is common to shift back and forth, working
up through a number of supervisory and individual-contributor positions.}

Actually, there are a number of individual-contributor

positions in both operating departments and in the company-wide "services"
operation that are filled by men with successful managerial
experience who are currently broadening their capabilities. Also,
moving into a managerial position does not necessarily end a man's
recognition as a technical expert. As examples at ~GE: Glen
B& Warren, formerly manager of the Turbine Division, widely recognized
as a turbine designer. The late W& R& G& Baker, a pioneer
in television design and long-time ~vp + ~gm of the Electronics
Division, and later, by his own choice, an individual consultant.
Harold E& Strang, expert in switchgear design, for a long period
~vp + ~gm of the Measurements + Industrial Products Division,
and who currently, approaching retirement, is vice-president and consulting
engineer in the Switchgear + Control Division. In
the ~GE plan, a number of individual contributors have positions
and compensation higher than those of many managers. These positions
carry such titles as: Consultant- Advanced Development

Consulting Engineer Consulting Engineer- Heat Transfer

Consulting Electrical Engineer Senior Electrical

Engineer Senior Physicist Westinghouse has a similar
system, with two classifications representing various levels of competence
on the strictly technical side: consulting engineer or scientist,
as the case may be, and advisory engineer or scientist. Many
companies have systems, particularly in ~R + ~D, which work more
or less well, depending upon size and actual belief in the policy on
the part of administration, as will be abundantly apparent in subsequent
quotations. Another factor that may hold hope is for parallel
recognition is, as one man says it: "**h that the fad for educating
top people along managerial lines is yielding to the technically
trained approach". _SENIOR STAFF ENGINEER?_ One company instituted,
early in 1959, a vertical classification system consisting of four
levels. There is no formal equivalence to the supervisory ranks;
the top non-supervisory level, senior staff engineer, enjoys status
and pay ranging up to that for the second level of engineering supervision.
The second level, senior engineer, rates slightly below first-level
supervision. The expectation is that first-level supervisors will
be selected in approximately equal numbers from the second and third
engineering level, with very few coming from the first level.

The company expects to extend upward both compensation and status for
non-supervisory engineers, but probably not into executive levels.
{In this organization, about half of the engineers with 15 or more
years of employment are in supervision, engineering or elsewhere.} This
reflects the very heavy engineering content of the products- which
are not military. Several other examples: _CENTRAL AND SATELLITE_
"We have over 20 divisions- each of which has an engineering
department headed by a chief engineer. We have set up a central ~R
+ ~D department, as well as engineering-management departments-
about 80 people working on problems related to those of our plants.
A separate research department is, of course, confined to new or future
designs. Part of this headquarters staff, however, are engineering
managers who work between divisional chief engineers and headquarters
management. These headquarters engineers, headed by the vice-president-
Engineering, counsel and advise divisional managers and chief
engineers on product problems as well as aid with design; and many are
engineers who have been advanced from the divisions. These men are
considered managers of engineers. They must learn to wear several hats,
so to speak, working with management, sales and engineering problems
related to the product. "We do not have people in our organization
termed 'consultants' or 'fellows', who are specialists
in one particular technical subject. I suppose it is because we are
just not big enough. We have a few 'consultants'- retired engineers
retained and called in on certain problems. The only 'fellows'
in our company are those who have been honored by ~ASME, ~AIEE
or ~AIChE **h I am sure that the engineer who enters
management is nearly always opening the door to greater possibilities
than he would have as a technical specialist- because of his wider
accountability".

_ANOTHER STRUCTURE_ "We have tried to make both

paths attractive, so that good men could find opportunity and satisfaction
in either. One way to formalize this is in the job structure.
We have these positions, which compare directly: **f "Above
these jobs we have chief engineer for the company and vice-president
of ~Engrg, ~R + ~D. The latter jobs include major management
responsibilities and have been filled by those who have come up primarily
through the engineering-management side **h {We have not yet
succeeded in establishing recognition of technical specialization comparable
to our higher levels of management, but I believe we will trend
in this direction} **h but not to exceed vice-president". _TOP
JOB: RESEARCH SCIENTIST_ "Approximately four years ago, we
initiated a dual ladder of advancement for technical persons **h The
highest position is known as a 'research scientist'. This approach
has not been entirely satisfactory. The primary deterrent appears to
lie with the technical people themselves, and their concept of what
constitutes status in present-day society. {Scientists who agitate
hardest
for technical recognition are often the most reluctant to accept
it **h We have discovered that the outward trappings such as private
offices and private secretaries are extremely important;} and although
we have attempted to provide these status symbols, support of the
'dual-ladder' plan has been half-hearted **h despite the creation
of a salary potential for a research scientist commensurate with that
of men in top managerial positions. {"A serious problem
accompanying the technical-ladder approach is the difficulty of clearly
defining responsibilities and standards of performance for each level.}
With no set standards, there is the tendency to promote to the
next highest level when the top of a salary band is reached regardless
of performance **h {promotion is too often based on longevity and
time in salary grade instead of merit.} If no specific organization
plan exists limiting the number of scientists at each salary level,
the result is a department top-heavy with high-level, high-salaried personnel".
_STAFF ENGINEER @ DEPT MANAGER_ "We have two approaches
for the technical man: the position of staff engineer, which
is rated as high in salary as department manager; and an administrative
organization to take the routine load away from department managers
and project engineers as much as possible, thus allowing them more time
for strictly technical work. These are only halfway measures, and
the answer will come when some way is found to allow the technical man
in industry **h to progress without limit in salary and prestige".
_A COMPLETE PLAN_ "We have made limited application of the 'parallel
ladder' plan. The highest rated non-supervisory engineering
title is 'research engineer'. The salary schedule permits remuneration
greater than the average paid to the first level of engineering
supervision (engineering section head). We also have an 'engineering
section head- research engineer' classification which has salary
possibilities equivalent to that of a research engineer. Above this
point there is no generally used parallel ladder. "We also
do a number of things to build up the prestige of the engineer as a
'professional'
and also to give public recognition to individual technical
competence. {These include encouragement of, and assistance
to, the engineer in preparation and publication of technical papers.
We have two media for publicizing individual technical activity, a magazine
widely distributed both within and without the company, and an
information bulletin for engineering personnel distributed to the homes
of all engineers.} Publicity is given to the award of patents to
our egnineers and financial support is provided for individual membership
in technical societies. "A recent, and more pertinent action,
has been the establishment of a technical staff reporting to the
vice-president for Engineering. This function is staffed by engineers
chosen for their technical competence and who have the title, member
of the technical staff'. Salaries compare favorably with those paid
to the first two or three levels of management. Additional symbols
of status are granted, such as reserved parking, distinctive badge passes
authorizing special privileges, and a difference in the treatment
of financial progress through merit. "We presently are involved
in inaugurating a new development center. Operations of this nature
offer the best opportunity to recognize scientific status. All scientific
staff members will have the title, 'research-staff member'.
The salary level of an individual within the group will reflect the
scientific community's acceptance of him as an authority in his scientific
field. Contrary to usual organization-position evaluations,
the position to which research-staff members report administratively will
not necessarily encompass the duties of the research-staff member,
therefore, are not necessarily evaluated as highly. "These
recent steps do not offer the possibility of extension to the great number
of senior engineers who have displayed technical competence. It
is doubtful that the complete solution to the over-all problem can result
entirely from company efforts. Fundamental to the difficulty of creating
the desired prestige is the fact that, in the business community,
prestige and status are conferred in proportion to the authority that
one man has over others and the extent of which he participates in
the management functions".

SIXTY MILES NORTH of New York City where the wooded hills
of Dutchess County meet the broad sweep of the Hudson River there
is a new home development called "Oakwood Heights". As a matter
of fact you could probably find a new home development in every populated
county in the country with three-bedroom ranch style cottages
in the $14,000 range. But Oakwood Heights is unique in one particular
**h its oil for heating is metered monthly to each home from a line
that starts at a central storage point. This is a pilot operation
sponsored by a new entity chartered in Delaware as the Tri-State
Pipeline Corporation, with principal offices in New York State.
Its president is Otis M& Waters, partner in the law firm of Timen
+ Waters, 5404 Chrysler Bldg&, New York City. Vice-president
is Louis Berkman and the secretary-treasurer is Mark Ritter.
Ritter is the builder of Oakwood Heights and president of Kahler-Craft
Distributors, Inc&, Newburgh, N&Y&. The idea
of a central tank with lines to each house is not in itself a novelty.
Not a year goes by but what several local companies in the U& S&
and Canada, even overseas, write to FUELOIL + OIL HEAT to inquire
if it's feasible and where it is being done. Its editors only
knew of one example to point to, a public housing development of 278
homes in New Haven described by John Schulz in the March, 1950 issue.
This has survived the years but there has been considerable concern
among the tenants over the fact that the oil was not metered. Rather
the monthly total consumption was divided and charged on the basis
of number of rooms and persons in the family. Common complaints
included "Mrs& Murphy" leaving her windows open all the time,
a fresh air fan, or the family was visiting "Aunt Minnie" with
the house shut up but they still paid the same rate for oil. As a
result of that attitude, others have been discouraged from trying central
distribution. A new low capacity meter is the key that unlocks
the situation at Oakwood Heights. Called a "Slo-Flo" meter
it was designed for this job by Power Plus Industries of Los Angeles,
a key individual being Don Nelson. Tri-State has acquired
its exclusive distribution for the northern, principal heating states.

There's an advantage in having a firm like Tri-State headed

by a lawyer. The earlier New Haven development was public housing,
so it easily leaped over the problems met in a private venture. These
have to do with property rights, municipal official attitudes and
a host of others. In working out the practical legal conclusions President
Waters was not thinking only of this pilot project, for it is
planned to duplicate this program or system in other builder developments
nationally. It is always difficult, or at least time-consuming,
to get approval of any kind of line under a public street, as one
example. To overcome this, the builder lays and completes the street
himself, then deeds it to the community while retaining a perpetual
easement for the oil lines. When a family buys a home the title is subject
to a perpetual easement to Tri-State. For the central storage,
Tri-State buys one acre, Buries its tanks and simply holds permanent
title to that piece. In other words, the whole storage and pipeline
system does not belong to the homeowners nor to the town but rather
to Tri-State. How does Tri-State get its revenue from this
plan? It leases the whole facility to a large oil company, at least
large enough to have a strong credit position. This first test is
being leased for ten years but future projects will require at least
15 years. The amount paid by the oil company to Tri-State for the use
of its oil distribution system and the privilege of supplying all
the homes, is subject to negotiation but naturally must be profitable
to both parties. On this first venture the central storage is
20,000 gallons, in two tanks, or an average of 400 gallons for each of
the 50 homes. The supplier delivers at his convenience in transport
loads, so as to maintain two-to-three weeks reserve supply against weather
contingencies. However, that is not all he has to do. He must
undertake complete servicing of the oilheating equipment to assure fine
heating. In the present project the heating is by circulating hot water
form Paragon boiler-burner units with summer-winter domestic hot
water hookups. Again, the oil man must read the meters at such intervals
as he finds best. For this first development the supplier
signing the lease is a major oil company but in turn the deal is being
transferred for operation to its local fueloil distributor. The major
gets the assured gallonage for the life of the lease and the distributor
apparently can do well because delivery cost is low.

#INITIAL
CONSIDERATIONS#

The officers of the new corporation have naturally

explored many angles, as well as personalities that might be affected.
For example, the officials of Poughkeepsie town (township) where the
project is located think highly of it because it simplifies their snow
clearing problem. The central storage is near a main artery quite
easy to reach with large transports on a short crescent swing, with fewer
trucks in the residential streets. The Public Service Commission
has ruled that this is not a public utility, subject to
their
many regulations. Several financial institutions, both banks
and insurance companies, have been sounded out. They like it and would
supply most of the capital because of the long term leases by strong
oil companies. The Government housing agencies consider it
feasible with one special stipulation. There must be a restriction in
the deed to provide that the customer may not be charged more than the
current market price for the oil **h an obvious precaution, since the
account is permanently wedded, just like with gas or electricity.

For a few details of the system **h the lines are 1-1/4''
<X-Tru-Coat,> a product of Republic Steel Corp&, and all lines
are welded. They are laid a minimum of 24'' deep and in some
areas four feet down, particularly under roads, to stay clear of all
other piping such as water and sewers and to minimize shocks from heavy
trucking. The meter is mounted high on the basement wall. Its figures
are a half inch high and very easy to read, even into tenth gallons.
It will accommodate firing rates as low as a half gallon an hour.

Ritter, the builder, is convinced that the total cost of all the
heating systems plus the oil distribution system is no greater than
would be gas heating systems in the houses plus their lines and meters.
He believes that this is a sound approach to gas competition in builder
developments where gas is available. It would be pretty
difficult to install a Tri-State system in old neighborhoods, and that's
an understatement. The job of getting property easements and street
easements and the acre for the tanks would become pretty discouraging.
But in a new development where everything starts from scratch
the solutions are simple.
#FUTURE PLANS#

What does Tri-State actually

want to do, now that it has the meters under franchise and certain
phases of its piping system in the "patent applied for" stage?
It wants to interest builders and oil companies in the idea of including
its facility in their new home projects, by financing and installing
the storage, piping and meters, and leasing these for 15 years,
with renewal options, to a strong oil company. It may also work in one
other way- by licensing its system patents and supplying the meters,
letting the oil company or even the builder install the facilities.

This whole development is certain to be of interest to the readers,

for the idea has so often been mentioned, somewhat wistfully.
But it's too early yet to go visit Oakwood Heights. Only eight of
the 50 houses were completed at the time of the editor's visit on
June 8th; others were building. The big tanks were at the site but
still sunning themselves. A big mechanical ditcher was running the trenches,
and the town building inspector was paying a friendly, if curious,
visit. The oilheating industry is looking up, led by a revival
of research and development. A primary ingredient in these fields
is imagination, and Tri-State Pipeline Corporation deserves a
very good mark.

EVERY YEAR about this time National Gargle Your Cooling

System week rolls around. It pays in the long (hot) run to take good
care of the water works. Do it this way for the summer gargle:

@ First, drain that old coolant down the storm sewer. Don't
save the anti-freeze, even if it the expensive "permanent" type.
The word means it won't boil away easily, nothing else. The rust
inhibitors in the fluid are used up after one year, and you don't want
to risk the rust that two years' use could mean. Pitch it out.

@ If a lot of rust shows in the drain, use a good flushing cleaner.

@ Then fill the system and add a rust inhibitor. Of

course, you'll want to use the softest water you can in your radiators.

@ Now, check for leaks in your hoses and hose connections,

around the freeze-out plugs, gaskets, water pump seals and heater
fittings. @ Next, run the engine and let it heat up so the thermostat
opens, and then look for leaks again. Be sure the bugs and
dirt are blown out of the radiator fins. Use the air hose for this job.
Check the temperature gage and be sure it is working. If you
use one of the new year-round cooling system fluids such as "Dowguard"
be sure to check it. Dow says that the fluid can be used now
for two years. Check its inhibitor effectiveness before leaving it in
during the summer. Take precautions now, to be sure you avoid
those unpleasant and costly heat breakdowns when the temperature zooms
this summer. {Don't let your mechanics} pull the thermostats
out of those fueloil delivery trucks or installation rigs of yours.
Spring and summer may be here officially, but those thermos stay
in. The fact is that removing and leaving out a thermostat from
any water cooled vehicle, will greatly increase the fuel consumption,
reduce power and contribute to spark plug fouling due to an accumulation
of excessive carbon deposits on the insulators. If you
run into excess plug fouling on one truck, check to be sure that the rig
has a thermostat. The thermostat is important to get your engine up
to operating temperature quickly, and to keep it running at its most
efficient temperature through the proper circulation of the coolant.

{Are you paying too much} for your truck insurance? There's
a good chance you are doubling on some coverage, not taking discounts
coming to you and not cutting some corners that can be cut.

Have a talk with your insurance agent. Be careful that you keep
adequate coverage, but look for places to save money. First go over the
type of coverage you now have. Look for these features which may mean
you can save: @ Duplicate coverage. Avoid doubling up
on the same item. For example, don't pay in a truck policy for medical
coverage that you may be paying for in a health and accident policy.

@ Does your policy have a lay-up clause? This means that

if your insured vehicle is laid up for more than 30 days, insurance
can be suspended and a proportionate return of your premium made to
you. This applies to repair work or winter storage. The figure
five is important in insurance. With many company policies you get
a fleet discount if you insure five or more rigs. This means either cars
or trucks. Discounts run up to 2% of cost. Usually premium
reductions can be obtained by applying deductibles to your liability
plan. For example: If your bodily injury claims start payment after
the first $250, a 25% premium saving is often made.
{I}n the period since the end of World War /2,- a period
coinciding
with merchandising demands for the colorful, the unusual, and the original
in signs and displays- plastics have come on so strong that
today
they are the acknowledged leaders in the field. The importance of the
sign industry to the plastics industry, however, is not in terms of
volume alone. Designers of signs and displays have shown a refreshing
approach to the adaptation of plastics that has influenced the workings
of other industries. Many of today's developments in thermoforming
stem from original work done with signs and displays; the art of
preprinting in distortion was similarly perfected by the sign makers;
and the reverse-surface decorating techniques now used for escutcheons,
medallions, etc&, owes much to the field, as does the technology
of designing with the light-transmitting properties of the transparent
plastics. There is much that many industries can continue to
learn from some of the more recent developments described below. The
concept of trans-illumination (as shown by the photo on p& 92), as just
one example, offers an entirely new approach to lighting problems-
no matter what industry is involved.

#A VOLUME MARKET#

According
to a recent <Wall Street Journal> survey, plastics units now
account for more than 50% of all sign sales. Five years ago, they had
only 10% of the market, with the remainder firmly entrenched in the
stronghold of neon tubing. And it's far from the end for plastics.
Industry sources are now estimating that 75% of the signs made during
the 1960's will be of plastic construction. Evidence of this
trend can best be seen in the recent activities of such leading companies
in the field as Advance Neon Sign Co&, Los Angeles, Calif&.
Four years ago, the company's entire line was devoted to neon
signs; today, 85% is in plastics. From the volume standpoint,
the total market represented by the sign industry is impressive. Aggregate
sales during 1960 reached approximately $500 million. Currently,
there are some 6000 companies in the field, ranging from small firms
with a handful of employees to major concerns having complete facilities
for production of metal, electrical, and plastic components.

#WHY
THE TREND TO PLASTICS?#

What accounts for the rapid growth

of plastics in the sign and display field? Out of many factors which
might be cited, five are most important: _1._ Plastics combine
such properties as built-in color, light weight, optional transparency
or translucency, resistance to corrosion, as well as the ease of fabrication.
_2._ Plastic signs are economical. According to one
major producer, materials for a typical plastic sign are approximately
25% less costly than for a comparable neon unit. Shipping cost is
also reduced; a 3-by- 6-ft& plastic sign weighs about 120 lb&,
compared to 275-300 lb& for neon. The weight advantage, plus greater
durability of the plastic unit, yields a saving of about one-fifth
in shipping. The lighter weight also means less costly supports and mountings
are needed. Finally, maintenance costs on plastic signs are
much lower than on fragile neon signs. _3._ They offer exceptional
design freedom, making it
possible to incorporate contours and details
which give free range to the talents of the designer. Vacuum- and pressure-formed
sheet plastics fill the gap between cardboard and molded
plastics. Pre-decoration,
low-cost molds, and the freedom to form large
and small, thick and thin materials make plastics tailor-made for the
industry. _4._ Plastics signs work around the clock. Internal
illumination, protected from the elements, gives them powerful visual
appeal at night; during daylight hours their brilliant colors command
attention and interest. _5._ Advances in equipment and fabrication
techniques give the sign or display manufacturer an extremely wide
choice of production techniques, ranging from injection molding for
intricate, smaller-size, mass-production signs (generally 5000 units is
the minimum) to vacuum and pressure forming for larger signs of limited
runs. Among the newest fabrication methods to enter the display field
are expandable styrene molding and blow molding. _WHAT PLASTICS
TO USE?_ For outdoor signs and displays, acrylic, with its outstanding
optical characteristics, weather resistance and formability, strongly
dominates the picture. At present, both the familiar cast acrylic
and the newer extruded sheets are being used by sign manufacturers,
with extruded now representing an estimated 10% of the total. (See
panel, p& 166, for a comparison.) Of interest is a recent
announcement by Du Pont's
Polychemicals Dept& of a new methyl methacrylate
monomer designated as Monocite ~H 100, which was developed
specifically for production of cast acrylic sheets for the sign and
lighting industry. Sheeting cast from this material reportedly weighs
only one-third as much as glass, is impervious to all kinds of weather,
and will not yellow. Its high impact strength, even at low temperatures,
resists chipping, cracking, and crazing, according to Du Pont.

Cellulose acetate butyrate is used extensively for vacuum-formed

signs, background panels, and molded or formed letters because of its
exceptional toughness, ease of forming, and excellent weathering properties.
Its clarity and good optical properties are other important
factors. New to the field is a duplex type butyrate laminate in which
the two sheets of the laminate are of different color. Thermoforming
the laminate and then sanding away the top layer is a quick and economical
way to produce a two-color sign. (see ~MPl, Mar& 1961,
p&
98). For specialized types of displays, such as large three-dimensional
units reproducing a product, package, human or animal figures,
etc&, reinforced plastics and rotationally molded vinyl plastisols
are other materials frequently used. A relative newcomer
in
outdoor signs is Mylar polyester film, now used as a printed overlay
for trans-illuminated signs (see below). For outdoor signs and
displays, where the problem of weathering resistance is no longer a
factor, the choice of plastics is almost unlimited. Here may be found
regular and impact styrene, cellulose acetate, cellulose butyrate and
cellulose propionate, acrylic, vinyl, expandable styrene foam, and polyethylene.
The final choice of material depends upon such factors as
costs, method of fabrication, degree of complexity, number of units
required, time available for tooling, and projected life expectancy of
the unit. Often, the finished sign or display incorporates several types
of plastics and two or more fabricating techniques.

#TRANS-ILLUMINATED
BILLBOARDS#

One of the most significant advancements in design

of plastics signs is the so-called trans-illuminated billboard, now
being produced by several large sign manufacturers such as Advance
Neon Sign Co&, Los Angeles, and Industrial Electric Inc&,
New Orleans, La&. The essential difference between the new
trans-illuminated boards and existing billboards is that the former,
constructed of translucent plastic panels, are lighted from within.
With the source of light behind the copy, there is no loss of lumen output,
as with conventional boards illuminated by means of reflected light.
Also, the light sources are shielded from dirt and weather exposure
and cannot obstruct the view of the sign. The copy itself,
including any text or illustrations, is reproduced in full color directly
on a thin Mylar polyester film by a photo screen process. The
film has an adhesive on the back which permits it to be stripped onto
the acrylic panels forming the sign, and also to be stripped off for
replacement by new copy as required. Spare sets of face panels simplify
the change from one copy or message to another; new panels are exchanged
for the old right in the field on a single trip. Panels with
outdated copy are returned to the sign shop so a new message can be applied.

Signs of this type have already made their appearance

in several larger cities, and others are on the way. It is believed that
these boards will, within the next few years, replace many of the
conventional flood-lighted boards now in use. Trans-illuminated
signs also show versatility in other directions. As used by Industrial
Electric Inc&, the film panels are printed one at a time, as
are 24-sheet posters. Thus the film can be applied to back-lighted translucent
plastics faces; they can also be applied to opaque panels
for use on cutouts, or they can be applied directly to painted bulletin
faces. In this way, the sign maker has an economical means for displaying
uniform copy on different sign media. Recently Industrial
Electric unveiled another new development made possible by modern
plastic materials- a revolving spectacular sign. Comprised of 16
triangular trans-illuminated plastic sections, it makes it possible to
combine three different signs in a single unit. The triangles automatically
revolve in a cycle which permits 9 sec& of viewing time for
each poster subject. Sixteen panels, each slightly more than 1-1/2 ft&
wide, make up the 25-ft& length of the sign.

#CHANGEABLE LETTERS
FILL MANY NEEDS#

Perhaps the best way to indicate the versatility

of design that characterizes the use of plastics in signs and displays
would be to look at what is happening in only one of the areas in this
complex field- changeable signs. Signs are meant to convey
a message, and in most cases, this requires words and letters. Frequently,
the message must be changed at intervals to feature new products,
price changes, etc&. The huge market for changeable signs has spurred
a universal demand for individual plastic letters, in all shapes
and sizes- and a number of companies are set up to supply them. Here
are some of the newer items currently available: Poster Products
Inc&, Chicago, Ill&: a changeable copy and display
sign
which consists of an extruded impact styrene background in choice of
colors, onto which are mounted snap-in letters, figures, or words screened
on acetate or other types of sheet stock. The background, which
is available
in various widths and continuous lengths, is extruded with
parallel undercut grooves which grip the flexible letters securely.

The Adaptaplex Co&, Beaverton, Ore&; letters molded

of butyrate, available in several sizes in either red or black. Ideal
for merchandising use, they are weather-resistant, and have mounting
pegs on the back which fit into openings in a vacuum-formed waffle-pattern
background panel. For large letters, <e&g&> thermoformed
of acrylic or butyrate, there are other techniques. For example,
in a typical store installation, fifty 24-in& and six 36-in& red
acrylic letters were mounted against a white painted wood background.
The fact that even the larger letters weighed only 5 lb& each made
it possible to secure the letters to the building through clear acrylic
angle brackets cemented to the letters. Stainless steel screws were
used to minimize corrosion stains. For mounting to corrugated plastic
backgrounds, very small holes may be drilled in the sides of the letters
and stainless steel wire threaded through the openings, its ends
twisted behind the panels. Large injection-molded letters are
also available for sign installations. Wagner Sign Service Inc&,
Chicago, for example, supplies them in several colors, in heights of
4, 6, 8, 10, and 17 inches. They are molded of a special weather-resistant
formulation of Tenite butyrate. Also available from this company
are Snug-Grip Plasti-Bars, extruded of transparent acrylic material,
which may be cemented to any corrugated acrylic background material.
Made in lengths from 3 to 10 ft&, the bars are shaped in cross
section to provide a secure fit for the tapered slots molded in back
of the letters. Still another approach to the changeable letter
type of sign is a modular unit introduced by Merritt Products, Azusa,
Calif&. This vacuum formed sign is comprised of 27-in& (or
smaller) panels formed of 0.080-in& clear butyrate sheet stock, masked
and sprayed on the rear side. Finished signs are produced by sliding
the separate letter panels into channels of 0.025-in& aluminum,
which may be mounted to various surfaces. The sheets are extruded of
Tenite butyrate by Jet Specialties Co&, Los Angeles, Calif&.

On large-area units, where additional structural requirements

are imposed, one recent approach utilizes modular extruded or formed
channels (<e&g&> right-angled corrugations) of the acrylic or butyrate.
Joined side by side, such channels make possible construction
of continuous two-dimensional luminous areas up to 50 ft& high and
of unlimited width. Letters may be wired to the face of the combined
channels, painted on the first surface, or handled in other ways.

#NEW RULE NO& 2: DON'T BUILD FROM THE OUTSIDE IN- TRY TO BUILD
FROM
THE INSIDE OUT#

Don't insert your components into fixed openings,

they may or may not fit; position your components before you close
them in. For example: Don't wall in your kitchen before
you hang the wall cabinets and set the appliances. It's a lot quicker
and easier to dimension the kitchen to fit the cabinets and erect
the end wall after they are all in place. Set your bathtub before
you close in the end of the bathroom. Don't try to wrestle a
400-~lb tub **f through a narrow doorway. Finish your plumbing
before you frame it in (most economical framing is a thin non-bearing
partition on either side of the pipes). Finish installing and
connecting up your furnace and your water heater before you wall them
in. There is no better way to waste time than trying to install a
furnace in a finished **f closet. Don't position your studs
before you insert your windows in conventional construction; that way
you may pay more to shim the window into place than you paid for the
window. You can save all that shimming time if you set your windows
in one, two, three order- first the stud on one side, then the window,
then the stud on the other side. Install your disappearing
stair (or stairs) to the attic and finish your overhead ducts before
you drywall the ceiling. Don't close in your house until everything
has been carried in. Last wall Bob Schmitt erects is the wall
between the house and garage. That way he can truck his parts right
indoors and unload them under the roof. No auto maker would
dream of putting the head on the engine before he fitted the pistons
in the block. And trailer makers, those most industrialized and therefore
most efficient of homebuilders, say they save hundreds of dollars
by always building from the inside out.

#NEW RULE NO& 3 RETHINK

EVERYTHING
TO GET ALL THE BIG SAVINGS THE REVOLUTION IN MATERIALS HANDLING
OFFERS YOU#

This revolution is the biggest build-better-for-less

news of all, because **h _1._ It makes it easy to handle much heavier
units, so you can plan to build with much bigger and heavier prefabricated
components like those shown in the pictures alongside. _2._
It makes materials handling the only construction cost that (like
earthmoving and roadbuilding) should be lower today than in 1929. _3._
It changes the answers to "Who should do what, and where"?
It lessens the need for costly on-site fabrication and increases
the chance for shop fabrication, where almost everything can be made
better and cheaper. _4._ It changes the answers on when to do what
at the site. For example, instead of putting in your driveways last
(as many builders do) you can now save money by putting them in first.
Instead of closing the house in first (as most builders do) you can
now cut your costs by not closing it in until you have to (<see
~p
121>). _5._ It changes the answers on builder-dealer relations.
Not so long ago many builders were finding they could cut their costs
by "buying direct" and short-cutting the dealer. But now many of
these same builders are finding they can cut their costs more by teaming
up with a dealer who has volume enough to afford the most efficient
specialized equipment
to deliver everything just where it is needed-
drywall inside the house, siding along the sides, trusses on the walls,
roofing on the roof, etc&. Says Clarence Thompson: "We
dealers must earn our mark-up by performing a service for the builder
cheaper than he could do it himself". The revolution now under
way in materials handling makes this much easier. _THE REVOLUTION
IS WELL UNDER WAY, BUT MUCH MORE REMAINS TO BE DONE_ Five years ago
a HOUSE + HOME Round Table cosponsored by the Lumber Dealers'
Research Council reported unhappily: "Only one lumber
dealer in ten is equipped to handle unit loads; only one box car
in eight has the wide doors needed for unit loads; only one producer
in a hundred is equipped to package and ship unit loads; only one builder
in a thousand is equipped to receive unit loads. "So
from raw materials to finished erection the costs of materials handling
(most of it inefficient) add up to one-fourth of the total construction
cost of housing". "That HOUSE + HOME Round Table
was the real starting point for today's revolution in materials
handling", says Clarence Thompson, long chairman of the Lumber Dealers'
Research Council. "It made our whole industry recognize
the need for a new kind of teamwork between manufacturer, carrier, equipment
maker, dealer, and builder, all working together to cut the cost
of materials handling. Before that we lumber dealers were working
almost single-handed on the problem". _HERE IS WHERE THINGS STAND
TODAY:_ _1._ Almost all of the 3,000 lumber dealers who cater
primarily to the new-house market and supply 90% of this year's new
houses are mechanized. There are few areas left where a builder cannot
find a dealer equipped to save him money by delivering everything
at lower cost just where his workmen will need it. _2._ Practically
all bulky housing products can now be ordered in standard units palletized
or unitized for mechanical handling- including lumber, asphalt
shingles, glass block, face brick, plaster, lime, hardboard, gypsum
wallboard and sheathing, cement, insulation sheathing, floor tile, acoustical
tile, plaster base, and asbestos shingles. _3._ Truck and
materials-handling equipment makers now offer specialized units to
meet almost every homebuilding need. For some significant new items
see the pictures. _4._ More than 50% of all lumber is unitized;
an ~NLRDA survey found that at least 492 lumber mills will
strap their shipments for mechanized handling. Of these, 376 said they
make no extra charge for strapping in standard units, because they
save enough on mechanized carloading to offset their strapping cost.
Most of the others
will swallow their 50@ to $3 charge rather than lose
a good customer. "With a 15,500-~lb fork-lift, dealers can unload
unitized lumber from wide-door box cars for 30@/~mbf compared
with $1.65 or more to unload loose lumber one piece at a time", says
James Wright of ~NLRDA. _5._ Lumber dealers and lumber
manufacturers have agreed on a standard unit for unitized shipments-
48'' wide by a nominal 30'' high (or six McCracken packets
24'' wide by nominal 7'' high). These units make it easy to
load as much as 48,000 ~bd ~ft (say 120,000 ~lb in a 50' box
car- much more than the average for loose-loaded cars. _6._ The
railroads have responded by adding 20,000 more box cars with doors 12'
or wider for forklift unloading (a 21% increase while the total
number of box cars was falling 6%) and by cutting their freight rates
twice on lumber shipped in heavily loaded cars. First was a 1958 cut
of more than 50% on that portion of the load in excess of 40,000
~lb; later came a 1961 cut on the West Coast (still pending elsewhere)
of 7@/~cwt on 70,000 ~lb-plus carloads (which works out to
more than $4/~mbf on that portion of the load in excess of 70,000
~lb). _7._ More unitized lumber is being shipped on flat cars,
and ~NLRDA studies show that flat cars loaded with the new Type
6-~B floating-load method can be unloaded for at little at 5.4@/~mbf.
For long hauls these shipments should be protected with water-proof
paper. This costs from 75@ to $2.30/~mbf, but the cover can
pay off if the lumber is to be stored in the open. _THESE CARRIERS
CUT HANDLING COSTS FOR THE DEALER- AND THE BUILDER_ Says ~NRLDA's
James Wright: "Since 1958 carriers that move material
from the yard to the job site have undergone more radical changes
than any of the dealer's other equipment". The reason: today's
components and lumber packages are far too bulky to be handled
by a truckdriver and a helper. So manufacturers have pioneered a new
type of vehicle- the self-unloading carrier. It cuts the lumber dealer's
cost because it takes only one man- the driver- to unload
it, and because it unloads in a fraction of the time and at a fraction
of the cost of hand unloading. and it helps the builder because it
can handle a more efficiently packaged load, can deliver it to the best
spot (in some cases, right on the roof or inside the house), and never
takes any of the builder's high-priced labor to help unload it.

Says Wright: "Our survey shows that one third of the

retail
dealers plan to increase the mechanization of their materials handling
in the coming two years. And most of the gain will be in self-unloading
vehicles".

#NEW RULE NO& 4: RESTUDY WHAT YOUR MEN DO,

TO HELP THEM WASTE LESS OF THE TIME YOU PAY FOR#

Half the manhours

you pay for on most jobs are wasted because the job was not planned right,
so the right tools were not handy at the right place at the right
time, or the right materials were not delivered to the handiest spots
or materials were not stacked in the right order for erection, or you
bought cheap materials that took too long to fit, or your workmen had
to come back twice to finish a job they could have done on one trip.

Even "America's most efficient builder", Bob Schmitt

of Berea, hopes to cut his labor costs another $2,000 per house as a
result of the time-+-motion studies now being completed on his operation
by industrial efficiency engineers from the Stanley Works. Already
this study has suggested ways to cut his foundation manhours from
170 to 105 by eliminating idle time and wasted motion. Builder
Eddie Carr of Washington, past president of ~NAHB, cut his bricklaying
costs $150 a house by adopting the "~SCR masonry process"
worked out after careful time-+-motion studies by the Structural
Clay Products Research Foundation to help bricklayers do better
work for less. A midwestern builder cut his labor costs per thousand
bricks from $81 to $43.50 by adopting this same process, cut them another
$7.50 to $36 by buying his bricks in convenient, easy-to-spot 100-brick
packages. The ~SCR process, with its precision corner-posts,
its precision guide lines, its working level scaffold, and its hand-level
brick supply takes eight manhours to get set, but once ready
it makes it easy for bricklayers to lay a thousand bricks a day. See
<page 156>. One good way to cut your labor waste is to make
sure you are using just the right number of men in each crew. Reports
Jim Lendrum: "By studying men on the job, we found that two men-
a carpenter and a helper- can lay a floor faster than three. We
found that three men- two carpenters and a helper- can put up wall
panels or trusses more economically than four men- because four men
don't make two teams; they make one inefficient three-men-and-a-helper
team. We found that wherever you can use two teams on a job,
five men, not four, is the magic number". No house was ever
built that could not have been built better for less if the work had
been better planned and the work better scheduled.

#NEW RULE NO&

5: DON'T WASTE ANY 10@-A-MINUTE TIME ON GREEN LUMBER TO SAVE 3@
A STUD#

This is the most penny-wise, pound-foolish chisel a builder

can commit. Green lumber was all very well back in the days
of wet plaster, when the framing lumber was bound to swell and then
shrink as tons of water dried out the gypsum. But now that all production
builders build with drywall and all smart builders build with panels,
green lumber is an anachronism you cannot afford. Green
studs cost about 65@; dry studs cost less than 3@ more. So if
a green stud makes a carpenter or a drywall finisher or anybody else waste
even 20 seconds, the green stud becomes more expensive than a dry
stud.

There comes a time in the lives of most of us when we want to

be alone. Not necessarily to be off all by ourselves, but away from the
crowds and common happenstance. If you've travelled in Europe a
time or two, it is quite certain that you've had that wanting-to-be-alone
feeling or that you will get it on your next visit across the Atlantic.
Following a guide, and gratefully so, is an excellent way to
see all the important places when everything is strange and new. However,
after you've seen all the historical piazzas and plazas, the
places and forums, the churches and museums, the palaces and castles,
and begin to feel at home in the capitals of Europe, you'll want to
change your course and follow the by-roads at will, far from the market
places. The champagne at Troyes, the traditional capital
of the champagne country, has more ambrosial taste somehow than it has
at a sidewalk cafe on the Rue de la Paix or at Tour d'Argent. You
can relive history and follow, in fancy, the Crusaders in their quest
for the Holy Grail as they sail out from Brindisi, an ancient
town in the heel of Italy's boot. And you don't meet the folks from
home in Northwest Spain which has remained almost untouched by time
and tourists since the Middle Ages. Time stands still as you climb
the narrow, stone stairways in tiny villages clinging to steep mountain
slopes or wander through story-book towns, perched atop lofty crags,
their faces turned to the sea. They've been there since the days
of the Moors and the Saracens. And what better way to end a day
than by dining with artists and gourmets in a squat but charming fisherman's
village on the Mediterranean? An almost too-simple-to-be-true
way to set forth on such adventures is just to put yourself
behind the wheel of a car and head for the open road. For those
who need or want and can afford another car, buying one and driving
it on the grand tour, then shipping it home, is one popular plan for
a do-it-yourself pilgrimage. Then, of course, there are those of us
who either do not want or need or cannot afford another car. The answer
to this diathesis is to pick up a telephone and arrange to rent one.
It is that elemental. Almost any travel agent will reserve
a car for you. You can call one of the car rental services directly
(Hertz, Avis, Auto-Europe Nationalcar Rental, and others) and ask
them to reserve a car of your choice, and some transportation lines
offer this service as well. With few exceptions, your car will be waiting
for you at dockside, airport, railroad station or hotel when you
arrive, oftentimes at no additional cost. You can wait, of course, until
you arrive in Europe before renting your car. The disadvantages
to this method are that you may not have as great a choice of models
readily available or you may have to wait a few days or, during the busy
tourist season, when cars are in great demand, you might find it fairly
difficult to get a car at all. Since charges are relatively the
same, reserving a car before you leave for Europe will assure you of
having one on tap when you want it. For those who plan to travel
to Europe by one route and return by another some agencies offer
a service whereby you can pick up a car in one city on arrival and leave
it in another city, or even another country, when you are ready to
return home. At some cities, this pick-up and delivery service is without
additional charge, and, if you are budget-wise, when you are planning
your itinerary, you will take advantage of these free delivery
and collection stations in major cities within the larger European countries.

International Touring Documents are usually provided

with the car as are road maps and touring data. A valid American
driving license is accepted in all countries except Portugal, Spain,
Yugoslavia and Eastern
Europe. If you plan to visit any of these countries,
you can obtain your International Driving Permit before you
leave at a nominal fee- around $3.00. Your insurance, too, with
most agencies, is provided with the car, covering comprehensive fire,
theft, liability and collision with a deductible clause which varies
in different countries. If you would feel happier with full collision
insurance, there is a small additional charge, again varying from country
to country and depending on the term of such insurance. The average
charge for this additional insurance coverage is roughly $1.00 a day.
The charge is variable, however, and goes as low as 50@ a day in
Ireland and as high as $2.00 a day in Greece. Rental fees
are variable, too, throughout the countries of Europe. There are as
many rates as there are countries and models of cars available. As in
the United States, there is a flat fee-per-day rental charge plus
a few cents per kilometer driven, and the per-day rate drops if the car
is retained for a week. It drops again after fifteen and/or twenty-one
days. It is well to bear in mind that gasoline will cost from
80@ to 90@ for the equivalent of a United States gallon and
while you might prefer a familiar Ford, Chevrolet or even a Cadillac,
which are available in some countries, it is probably wiser to choose
the smaller European makes which average thirty, thirty-five and
even forty miles to the gallon. Your choice of model will undoubtedly
be governed by the number of people travelling in your group.
With the exception of the sports cars, even the quite tiny sedans will
seat four passengers if you are willing to sacrifice comfort and luggage
space for really economical transportation. There is a large variety
of models to choose from in most countries, however, including 6-passenger
sedans and station wagons and the rental fee isn't all that
much greater than for the wee sedans. The basic costs are generally
pretty much the same regardless of the agency through which you
reserve your car, but some of them offer supplementary advantages.
There is the free intra-city "rent it here, leave it there" service,
as an example, the free delivery and collection at the airport, dockside
or your hotel, luggage racks, touring documents and information
and other similar services. A little investigation by telephone or reading
the travel ads in the newspapers and magazines will give you these
pertinent details on the additional money-saving benefits. The investigation
will be well worth your time. All model cars are not
available in all countries. Quite naturally, there is a greater availability
of those models which are manufactured within a specific country.
If you would like to start your tour in Italy, where the rental
fees are actually the lowest in Europe, Fiats in all sizes are available,
as are Alfa Romeo Giulietta models. If you wish to budget
closely on transportation, saving your extra dollars to indulge in luxuries,
one agency lists the small Fiat 500 at only $1.26 a day plus 3@
a kilometer and the Fiat 2100 Station
Wagon, seating six, at just
$1.10 a day and 10-1/2@ a kilometer. If you will be using your car
more than fifteen days, which isn't all unlikely, the daily rates
drop quite sharply to 86@ a day for the Fiat 500 and to an infinitesimal
30@ a day for the Fiat 2100 Station Wagon. With six in the
group, the cost comes to just a nickel a day per person on the daily
fee. In the majority of countries, however, the rates range from
$3.00 to $3.50 a day for the smaller sedans and graduate up to $7.00
and $8.00 a day for the larger, luxury European models, with the rate
per kilometer driven starting at 3@ and going up as high as 12@.
The same model car might be available in six or eight countries, yet
not two countries will have the same rate either for the daily rate
or rate per kilometer driven. The variations are not too great. Rates
for American cars are somewhat higher, ranging from about $8.00 a day
up to $14.00 a day for a Chevrolet Convertible, but the rate per
kilometer driven is roughly the same as for the larger European models.
Rates in Greece and Finland are fairly high, actually the highest
in Europe, and, surprisingly enough, they are also quite high in Ireland.

If you are planning to tour Europe for longer than a

month, it might be wise for you to lease a car. The actual over-all
cost, for the first month, will perhaps not be too much lower than the
rental charges for the same period of time, but you will receive a new
car. You will be entitled to all the advantages of a new car owner,
which includes the factory guarantee and the services valid at authorized
dealers throughout Europe. Further, there is no mileage charge
or mileage limitations when you lease a car, and you pay only the flat
monthly rate plus a nominal charge for documents and insurance since
the car is registered and insured individually for your trip. There is
a fairly wide selection of models of English, German and French manufacture
from which you can choose from the very small Austin 7, Citroe^n
2 ~CV, Volkswagens, Renaults to the 6-passenger Simca
Beaulieu. Leasing a car is not as common or as popular as renting a
car in Europe, but for long periods it will be unquestionably more economical
and satisfactory. After the first month, rates are considerably
less, averaging only about $60 a month for most 4- and 5-passenger
models. There are reasons for some people not wanting to rent
cars and going on the do-it-yourself plan. For one thing, the driver
usually sees less and has less fun than his passengers since it becomes
pretty necessary for him to keep at least one eye on the road. Then,
too, European drivers have reputations for being somewhat crazy on
the road and some Americans are not particularly keen on getting mixed
up with them. Still there is a way for those who want to see some
of the back country of Europe by car. The way is to rent a chauffeur-driven
car. It isn't as expensive as most people believe it to be.
Your chauffeur's expenses will average between $7.00 to $12.00
a day, but this charge is the same whether you rent a 7-passenger
Cadillac limousine or a 4-passenger Peugeot or Fiat 1800. The big
spread is in the charge for each kilometer driven, being governed by
the rate at which gasoline is consumed. Since most European cars average
more miles per gallon of gasoline than American cars, it naturally
follows that the cost per kilometer for these models will be less,
but the greater seating capacity of the large American cars will equalize
this, provided your group is sufficiently large to fill a 7-passenger
limousine. The fees for the rental of chauffeur-driven cars
vary in the different countries in the same manner as they do for
the drive-yourself cars. However, whether you arrange to have a European
or American model, if you rent a car with the proper seating capacity
in relation to the number of people in your party, your transportation
expense will average very close to $10.00 per day per passenger.
This will include your helpful, English-speaking chauffeur and a
drive of an average of 150 kilometers in any one day. If you drive greater
distances than that, you'll just be skimming the surface and will
never discover the enchantment, fascination and beauty which lured
you in the first place to explore the hinterlands. Of course, if you
want to throw all caution to the winds and rent an Imperial or Cadillac
limousine just for you and your bride, you'll have a memorable
tour, but it won't be cheap, and it is not recommended unless you own
a producing oil well or you've had a winner in the Irish Sweepstakes.

In American romance, almost nothing rates higher than what the

movie men have called "meeting cute"- that is, boy-meets-girl
seems more adorable if it doesn't take place in an atmosphere of correct
and acute boredom. Just about the most enthralling real-life example
of meeting cute is the Charles MacArthur-Helen Hayes saga:
reputedly all he did was give her a handful of peanuts, but he said
simultaneously, "I wish they were emeralds". Aside from the comico-romantico
content here, a good linguist-anthropologist could readily
pick up a few other facts, especially if he had a little more of the
conversation to go on. The way MacArthur said his line- if
you had the recorded transcript of a professional linguist- would
probably have gone like this: **f Primary stresses on emeralds and
wish; note pitch 3 (pretty high) on emeralds but with a slight degree
of drawl, one degree of oversoftness **h. Conclusions: The people
involved (and subsequent facts bear me out here) knew clearly the relative
values of peanuts and emeralds, both monetary and sentimental.
And the drawling, oversoft voice of flirtation, though fairly overt,
was still well within the prescribed gambit of their culture. In
other words, like automation machines designed to work in tandem, they
shared the same programming, a mutual understanding not only of English
words, but of the four stresses, pitches, and junctures that can
change their meaning from black to white. At this point, unfortunately,
romance becomes a regrettably small part of the picture; but consider,
if you can bear it, what might have happened if MacArthur, for
some perverse, undaunted reason, had made the same remark to an Eskimo
girl in Eskimo. To her peanuts and emeralds would have been just
so much blubber. The point- quite simply- is this: words they
might have had; but communication, no. This basic principle,
the first in a richly knotted bundle, was conveyed to me by Dr& Henry
Lee Smith, Jr&, at the University of Buffalo, where he heads
the world's first department of anthropology and linguistics. A
brisk, amusing man, apparently constructed on an ingenious system of
spring-joints attuned to the same peppery rhythm as his mind, Smith
began his academic career teaching speech to Barnard girls- a project
considerably enlivened by his devotion to a recording about "a young
rat named Arthur, who never could make up his mind". Later, he
became one of the central spirits of the Army Language Program and
the language school of Washington's Foreign Service Institute.
It was there, in the course of trying to prepare new men for the "culture
shock" they might encounter in remote overseas posts, that he
first began to develop a system of charting the "norms of human communication".

To the trained ear of the linguist, talk has always

revealed a staggering quantity of information about the talker-
such things as geographical origin and/or history, socio-economic identity,
education. It is only fairly recently, however, that linguists
have developed a systematic way of charting voices on paper in a way
that tells even more about the speakers and about the success or failure
of human communication between two people. This, for obvious reasons,
makes their techniques superbly useful in studying the psychiatric
interview, so useful, in fact, that they have been successfully used
to suggest ways to speed diagnosis and to evaluate the progress of therapy.

In the early 1950's, Smith, together with his distinguished

colleague, George Trager (so austerely academic he sometimes
fights his own evident charm), and a third man with the engaging name
of Birdwhistell (Ray), agreed on some basic premises about the three-part
process that makes communication: (1) words or language (2) paralanguage,
a set of phenomena including laughing, weeping, voice breaks,
and "tone" of voice, and (3) kinesics, the technical name for
gestures, facial expressions, and body shifts- nodding or shaking the
head, "talking" with one's hands, et cetera. Smith's
first workout with stresses, pitches, and junctures was based on mother,
which spells, in our culture, a good deal more than bread alone.
For example, if you are a reasonably well-adjusted person, there are
certain ways that are reasonable and appropriate for addressing your mother.
The usual U&S& norm would be: **f Middle pitches, slight
pause (juncture) before mother, slight rise at the end. The symbols
of mother's status, here, are all usual for culture U&S&A&.
Quite other feelings are evidenced by this style: **f Note the
drop to pitch 1 (the lowest) on mother with no rise at the end of the
sentence; this is a "fade" ending, and what you have here is a
downtalking style of speech, expressing something less than conventional
respect for mother. Even less regard for mom and mom's apple pie
goes with: **f In other words, the way the speaker relates to mother
is clearly indicated. And while the meaning of the words is not in
this instance altered, the quality of communication in both the second
and third examples is definitely impaired. An accompanying record
of paralanguage factors for the second example might also note a
throaty
rasp. With this seven-word sentence- though the speaker undoubtedly
thought he was dealing only with the subject of food- he was telling
things about himself and, in the last two examples, revealing that
he had departed from the customs of his culture. The joint investigations
of linguistics and psychiatry have established, in point
of fact, that no matter what the subject of conversation is or what words
are involved, it is impossible for people to talk at all without telling
over and over again what sort of people they are and how they relate
to the rest of the world. Since interviewing is the basic therapeutic
and diagnostic instrument of modern psychiatry, the recording of
interviews for playbacks and study has been a boost of Redstone proportions
in new research and training. Some of the earliest recordings,
made in the 1940's, demonstrated that psychiatrists reacted immediately
to anger and anxiety in the sound track, whereas written records
of the same interview offered far fewer cues to therapy which- if
they were at all discernible in print- were picked up only by the most
skilled and sensitive experts. In a general way, psychiatrists were
able to establish on a wide basis what many of them had always felt-
that the most telling cues in psychotherapy are acoustic, that such
things as stress and nagging are transmitted by sound alone and not
necessarily by words. At a minimum, recording- usually on tape,
which is now in wide professional use- brings the psychiatric interview
alive so that the full range of emotion and meaning can be explored
repeatedly by the therapist or by a battery of therapists. Newest
to this high-powered battery are the experts in linguistics who have
carried that minimum to a new level. By adding a systematic analysis
with symbols to the typed transcripts of interviews, they have supplied
a new set of techniques for the therapist. Linguistic charting of
the transcribed interview flags points where the patient's voice departs
from expected norms. It flags such possible breakdowns of communication
as rehearsed dialogue, the note of disapproval, ambivalence
or ambiguity, annoyance, resentment, and the disinclination to speak at
all- this last often marked by a fade-in beginning of sentences.

Interpretation, naturally, remains the role of the therapist, but

orientation- not only the patient's vocal giveaways of geographical
and socio-economic background, but also vocal but non-verbal giveaways
of danger spots in his relationship to people- can be considerably
beefed up by the linguist. His esoteric chartings of the voice alert
the therapist to areas where deeper probing may bring to light underlying
psychological difficulties, making them apparent first to the
therapist and eventually to the patient. In one now-historic first
interview,
for example, the transcript (reproduced from the book, <The
First Five Minutes>) goes like this: **f The therapist's level
tone is bland and neutral- he has, for example, avoided stressing
"you", which would imply disapproval; or surprise, which would
set the patient apart from other people. The patient, on the other
hand, is far from neutral; aside from her specifically regional accent,
she reveals by the use of the triad, "irritable, tense, depressed",
a certain pedantic itemization that indicates she has some familiarity
with literary or scientific language (i&e&, she must have
had at least a high-school education), and she is telling a story she
has mentally rehearsed some time before. Then she catapults into "everything
and everybody", putting particular violence on "everybody",
indicating to the linguist that this is a spot to flag- that
is, it is not congruent to the patient's general style of speech up
to this point. Consequently, it is referred to the therapist for attention.
He may then very well conclude that "everybody" is probably
not the true target of her resentment. Immediately thereafter, the
patient fractures her rehearsed story, veering into an oversoft, breathy,
sloppily articulated, "I don't feel like talking right now".

Within the first five minutes of this interview it is apparent

to the therapist that "everybody" truthfully refers to the woman's
husband. She says later, but still within the opening five minutes,
"I keep thinking of a divorce but that's another emotional death".

The linguistic and paralinguistic signals of misery are

all present in the voice chart for this sentence; so are certain
signals that she does not accept divorce. By saying "a<noth>er emotional
death", she reveals that there has been a previous one, although
she has not described it in words. This the therapist may pursue
in
later questioning. The phrase, "emotional death", interesting and,
to a non-scientific mind, rather touching, suggests that this woman
may have some flair for words, perhaps even something of the temperament
regrettably called "creative". Since the psychiatric interview,
like any other interview, depends on communication, it is significant
to note that the therapist in this interview was a man of marked
skill and long experience. His own communication apparatus operated
superbly, and Lillian Ross readers will note instantly its total
lack of resemblance to the blunted, monumentally unmeshed mechanism of
Dr& Blauberman. Interestingly enough- although none of the real-life
therapists involved could conceivably compare with Blauberman-
when groups of them began playing back interviews, they discovered
any number of ways in which they wanted to polish their own interview
techniques; almost everyone, on first hearing one of his own sessions
on tape, expressed some desire to take the whole thing over again.

Yet, in spite of this, intensive study of the taped interviews

by teams of psychotherapists and linguists laid bare the surprising fact
that, in the first five minutes of an initial interview, the patient
often reveals as many as a dozen times just what's wrong with him;
to spot these giveaways the therapist must know either intuitively
or scientifically how to listen. Naturally, the patient does not say,
"I hate my father", or "Sibling rivalry is what bugs me".
What he <does> do
is give himself away by communicating information over
and above the words involved. Some of the classic indicators, as described
by Drs& Pittenger, Hockett, and Danehy in <The First
Five Minutes>, are these: _AMBIGUITY OF PRONOUNS:_ Stammering
or repetition of <I, you, he, she>, et cetera may signal
ambiguity
or uncertainty. On the other hand significant facts may be concealed-
<she> may mean <I>; or <everybody>, as it did with the tense
and irritable woman mentioned before, may refer to a specific person.
The word that is <not> used can be as important as the word that
<is> used; therapist and/or linguist must always consider the alternatives.
When someone says, for example, "They took ~X rays to
see that there was nothing wrong with me", it pays to consider how
this statement would normally be made. (This patient, in actuality,
was a neurasthenic who had almost come to the point of accepting the
fact
that it was not her soma but her psyche that was the cause of her difficulty.)
**h Amateur linguists note here that Pursewarden, in Durrell's
Alexandria Quartet, stammered when he spoke of his wife, which
is hardly surprising in view of their disastrous relationship.

@ She was just another freighter from the States, and she seemed
as commonplace as her name. She was the <John Harvey,> one
of those Atlantic sea-horses that had sailed to Bari to bring beans,
bombs, and bullets to the U&S& Fifteenth Air Force, to Field
Marshal Montgomery's Eighth Army then racing up the calf of the
boot of Italy in that early December of 1943. The <John Harvey>
arrived in Bari, a port on the Adriatic, on November 28th,
making for Porto Nuovo, which, as the name indicates, was the ancient
city's new and modern harbor. Hardly anyone ashore marked her as
she anchored stern-to off Berth 29 on the mole. If anyone thought
of the <John Harvey,> it was to observe that she was straddled by
a pair of ships heavily laden with high explosive and if they were hit
the <John Harvey> would likely be blown up with her own ammo and
whatever else it was that she carried. Which was poison gas.
##

It had required the approval of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt

before the <John Harvey> could be loaded with 100 tons of
mustard gas and despatched to the Italian warfront. For in a world
as yet unacquainted with the horrors of the mushroom cloud, poison gas
was still regarded as the ultimate in hideous weapons. Throughout
the early years of World War /2,, reports persisted that the
Axis powers had used gas- Germany in Russia, Japan in China again.
They were always denied. Influential people in America were warning
the Pentagon to be prepared against desperation gas attacks by
the Germans in future campaigns. Some extremists went so far as to
urge our using it first. To silence extremists, to warn the Axis, President
Roosevelt issued this statement for the Allies in August:

"From time to time since the present war began there have
been reports that one or more of the Axis powers were seriously contemplating
use of poisonous gas or noxious gases or other inhumane devices
of warfare. I have been loath to believe that any nation, even our
present enemies, could or would be willing to loose upon mankind such
terrible and inhumane weapons. "However, evidence that the
Axis powers are making significant preparations indicative of such an
intention is being reported with increasing frequency from a variety
of sources. "Use of such weapons has been outlawed by the
general opinion of civilized mankind. This country has not used them,
and I hope that we never will be compelled to use them. I state categorically
that we shall under no circumstances resort to the use of such
weapons unless they are first used by our enemies". The
following month the invasion of Italy was begun, and Roosevelt gave
effect to his warning by consenting to the stockpiling of poison gas in
southern Italy. Bari was chosen as a depot, not only for its seeming
safety, but because of its proximity to airfields. Any retaliatory
gas attack would be airborne. It would be made in three waves- the
first to lay down a smokescreen, the second to drop the gas bombs, the
third to shower incendiaries which would burn everything below.

So the vile cargo went into the hole of the <John Harvey>. A
detachment
of six men from the 701st Chemical Maintenance Company under
First Lt& Howard D& Beckstrom went aboard, followed by Lt&
Thomas H& Richardson, the Cargo Security Officer. Secrecy
was paramount. Only a few other people- very important people- knew
of the nitrogen-mustard eggs nestled below decks. No one else must
know. Thus, in the immemorial way- in the way of the right hand that
knows and the left that does not- was the stage set for tragedy
at Bari. It was the night of December 2, 1943, and it was growing
dark in Bari. It was getting on toward 7 o'clock and the German
~Me-210
plane had been and gone on its eighth straight visit. Capt&
A& B& Jenks of the Office of Harbor Defense was very
worried. He knew that German long-range bombers had been returning
to the attack in Italy. On November 24th, they had made a raid on La
Maddalena. Two days later, some 30 of them had struck at a convoy
off Bougie, sinking a troopship- and it had been that very night that
the ~Me-210 had made its first appearance. After it had reappeared
the next two nights, Jenks went to higher headquarters and said:
"For three days now a German reconnaissance plane has been
over the city taking pictures. They're just waiting for the proper
time to come over here and dump this place into the Adriatic".

But the older and wiser heads had dismissed his warning as alarmist.
Even though it was known that the Luftwaffe in the north was now
being directed by the young and energetic General Peltz, the commander
who would conduct the "Little Blitz" on London in 1944, a
major raid on Bari at this juncture of the war was not to be considered
seriously. True, there had been raids on Naples- but Naples was
pretty far north on the opposite coast. No, Bari was out of range.
More than that, Allied air had complete superiority in the Eighth
Army's sector. So Captain Jenks returned to his harbor post to watch
the scouting plane put in five more appearances, and to feel the
certainty of this dread rising within him. For Jenks knew that Bari's
defenses were made of paper. The Royal Air Force had but a single
light anti-aircraft squadron and two balloon units available. There
were no R&A&F& fighter squadrons on Bari airfield. The
radar station with the best location was still not serviceable. Telephone
communication was bad. And everywhere in evidence among the few
remaining defensive units was that old handmaiden of disaster- multiple
command. It had been made shockingly evident that very morning
to Ensign Kay K& Vesole, in charge of the armed guard aboard the
<John Bascom>. A British officer had come aboard and told him
that in case of enemy air attack he was not to open fire until bombs
were actually dropped. Then he was to co-ordinate his fire with a
radar-controlled
shore gun firing white tracers. "This harbor is
a bomber's paradise", the Britisher had said with frank grimness.
"It's up to you to protect yourselves. We can't expect any
help from the fighters at Foggia, either. They're all being used on
offensive missions". Vesole had been stunned. Not fire until
the bombs came down! He thought of the tons and tons of flammable
fluid beneath his feet and shook his head. Like hell! Like hell
he'd wait- and supposing the radar-controlled gun got knocked out?
What would his guns guide on then- the North Star? Ensign
Vesole decided that he would not tarry until he heard the whispering
of the bombs, and when night began to fall, he put Seaman 2/~c Donald
L& Norton and Seaman 1/~c William A& Rochford on the guns
and told them to start shooting the moment they saw an enemy silhouette.
Below decks, Seaman 1/~c Stanley Bishop had begun to write
a letter home. ##

Above decks on the <John Harvey,> Lieutenant

Richardson gazed at the lights still burning on the port wall and
felt uneasy. There were lights glinting in the city, too, even though
it was now dark enough for a few stars to become visible. Bari was
asking for it, he thought. For five days now, they had been
in port and that filthy stuff was still in the hold. Richardson wondered
when it would be unloaded. He hoped they would put it somewhere way,
way down in the earth. The burden of his secret was pressing down
on him, as it was on Lieutenant Beckstrom and his six enlisted men.
Lieutenant Richardson could envy the officers and men of the <John
Harvey> in their innocent assumption that the ship contained nothing
more dangerous than high explosive bombs. They seemed happy at the
delay in unloading, glad at the chance to go ashore in a lively liberty
port such as Bari. Nine of them had gone down the gangplank already.
Deck Cadet James L& Cahill and Seaman Walter Brooks had
been the first to leave. Richardson had returned their departing grins
with the noncommittal nod that is the security officer's stock in
trade. The other half of the crew, plus Beckstrom and his men,
had remained aboard. Richardson glanced to sea and started slightly.
Damned if that wasn't a sailing ship standing out of the old harbor-
Porto Vecchio. The night was so clear that Richardson had no
difficulty making out the silhouette. Then the thought of a cloudless
sky made him shiver, and he glanced upward. His eyes boggled.

It was a clear night and it was raining! Capt& Michael

A& Musmanno, Military governor of the Sorrentine Peninsula, had
also seen and felt the "rain". But he had mistaken it for bugs.

Captain Musmanno's renovated schooner with the flamboyant

name <Unsinkable> had just left Porto Vecchio with a cargo of badly-needed
olive oil for the Sorrentine's civilian population. Musmanno
was on deck. At exactly 7:30, he felt a fluttering object brush
his face. He snatched at it savagely. He turned the beam of his flashlight
on it. He laughed. It was the silver foil from the chocolate
bar he had been eating. He frowned. But how could-? Another,
longer strip of tinsel whipped his mouth. It was two feet long. It was
not candy wrapping. It was "window"- the tinsel paper
dropped by bombers to jam radar sets, to fill the scope with hundreds
of blips that would seem to be approaching bombers. "Fermate"!
Musmanno bellowed to his Italian crewmen. "Stop! Stop
the engines"! <Unsinkable> slowed and stopped, hundreds
of brilliant white flares swayed eerily down from the black, the air
raid sirens ashore rose in a keening shriek, the anti-aircraft guns coughed
and chattered- and above it all motors roared and the bombs came
whispering and wailing and crashing down among the ships at anchor
at Bari. They had come from airports in the Balkans, these
hundred-odd Junkers 88's. They had winged over the Adriatic, they
had taken Bari by complete surprise and now they were battering her,
attacking with deadly skill. They had ruined the radar warning system
with their window, they had made themselves invisible above their flares.
And they also had the lights of the city, the port wall lanterns,
and a shore crane's spotlight to guide on. After the first two
were blacked out, the third light was abandoned by a terrified Italian
crew, who left their light to shine for nine minutes like an unerring
homing beacon until British ~MP's shot it out. In that
interval, the German bombers made a hell of Bari harbor. Merchant
ships illuminated in the light of the flares, made to seem like
stones imbedded in a lake of polished mud, were impossible to miss.
The little <Unsinkable> sank almost immediately. Captain Musmanno
roared at his men to lash three of the casks of olive oil together for
a raft. They got it over the side and clambered aboard only a few
minutes before their schooner went under. <John Bascom>
went down early, too. Ensign Vesole and his gunners had fought valiantly,
but they had no targets. Most of the Junkers were above the
blinding light of the flares, and the radar-controlled shore gun had
been knocked out by one of the first sticks of bombs. Vesole rushed
from gun to gun, attempting to direct fire. He was wounded, but fought
on. Norton and Rochford fired wildly at the sounds of the motors.
Bishop rushed on deck to grab a 20~mm gun, pumping out 400 rounds
before sticks of three bombs each crashed into Holds One, Three and
Five. Now the <Bascom> was mortally wounded. Luckily, she was
not completely aflame and would go down before the gasoline could erupt.

The order to abandon ship was given, but cries of pain could
be heard from the wounded below decks.

THERE IS a pause in the merriment as your friends gaze at

you, wondering why you are staring, open-mouthed in amazement. You explain,
"I have the strangest feeling of having lived through this
very same event before. I can't tell when, but I'm positive I witnessed
this same scene of this particular gathering at some time in
the past"! This experience will have happened to many of
you. Emerson, in his lecture, refers to the "**h startling experience
which almost every person confesses in daylight, that particular
passages of conversation and action have occurred to him in the same
order before, whether dreaming or waking, a suspicion that they have
been with precisely these persons in precisely this room, and heard
precisely this dialogue, at some former hour, they know not when".

Most psychiatrists dismiss these instances of that weird feeling

as the <deja vue (already seen)> illusion, just as they dismiss
dream previsions as coincidences. In this manner they side-step the seemingly
hopeless investigation of the greater depths of mystery in which
all of us grope continually. When a man recognizes a certain
experience as the exact pattern of a previous dream, we have an instance
of <deja vue>,
except for the fact that he knows just why the experience
seems familiar. Occasionally there are examples of prevision
which cannot be pushed aside without confessing an unscientific attitude.

One day Maeterlinck, coming with a friend upon an event

which he recognized as the exact pattern of a previous dream, detailed
the ensuing occurrences in advance so accurately that his companion
was completely mystified. Rudyard Kipling's scorn for the "jargon"
of psychical research was altered somewhat when he wondered
"**h how, or why, had I been shown an unreleased roll of my life
film"? The famous author tells us of the strange incident in <Something
About Myself>. One day when he attended a war memorial
ceremony in Westminster Abbey his view was obstructed by a stout
man on his left, his attention turned to the irregular pattern of the
rough slab flooring and someone, clasping him by the arm, whispered,
"I want a word with you, please". At that moment Kipling was
overwhelmed with awed amazement, suddenly recalling that these identical
details of scene, action and word had occurred to him in a dream six
weeks earlier. Freud probably contributed more than anyone else
to the understanding of dreams, enabling us to recognize their equivalents
in our wakeful thoughts. However, readers who accept Freud's
findings and believe that he has solved completely the mystery of
dreams, should ponder over the following words in his <Interpretation
Of Dreams,> Chapter /1,: "**h as a matter of fact no such
complete solution of the dream has ever been accomplished in any case,
and what is more, every one attempting such solution has found that
in most cases there have remained a great many components of the dream
the source of which he has been unable to explain **h nor is the discussion
closed on the subject of the mantic or prophetic power of dreams".

Dreams present many mysteries of telepathy, clairvoyance,

prevision and retrovision. <The basic mystery of dreams, which embraces
all the others and challenges us from even the most common typical
dream, is in the fact that they are original, visual continuities>.

I recall the startling, vivid realism of a dream in which I

lived through the horror of the bombing of a little Korean town. I am
sure that nothing within me is capable of composing that life-like sequence,
so complete in detail, from the hodge-podge of news pictures
I have seen. And when psychology explains glibly, "but the subconscious
mind is able to produce it" it refers to a mental region so vaguely
identified that it may embrace the entire universal mind as conceivably
as part of the individual mind. Skeptics may deny the
more startling phenomena of dreams as things they have never personally
observed, but failure to wonder at their basic mystery is outright avoidance
of routine evidence. The question becomes, "What is
a dream"? Is a dream simply a mental or cerebral movie?

Every dream, and this is true of a mental image of any type

even though it may be readily interpreted into its equivalent of wakeful
thought, is a psychic phenomenon for which no explanation is available.
In most cases we recognize certain words, persons, animals or objects.
But these are dreamed in original action, in some particular continuity
which we don't remember having seen in real life. For instance,
the dreamer sees himself seated behind neighbor Smith and, with
photographic realism, sees Smith driving the car; whereas, it is
a matter of fact that Smith cannot drive a car. There is nothing to
suggest that the brain can alter past impressions to fit into an original,
realistic and unbroken continuity like we experience in dreams.

The entire concept of cerebral imagery as the physical basis of

a mental image can find no logical support. <A "mental image" subconsciously
impressing us from beneath its language symbols in wakeful
thought, or consciously in light sleep, is actually not an image at
all but is comprised of realities, viewed not in the concurrent sensory
stream, but within the depths of the fourth dimension>. Dreams
that display events of the future with photographic detail call
for a theory explaining their basic mystery and all its components, including
that weird feeling of <deja vue>, inevitably fantastic though
that theory must seem. As in the theory of perception, established
in psycho-physiology, the eye is recognized as an integral part
of the brain. But then this theory confesses that it is completely at
a loss as to how the image can possibly be received by the brain. The
opening paragraph of the chapter titled <The Theory Of Representative
Perception,> in the book <Philosophies Of Science> by
Albert G& Ramsperger says, "**h passed on to the brain, and there,
by some unexplained process, it causes the mind to have a perception".

But why is it necessary to reproduce the retinal image

within the brain? As retinal images are conceded to be an integral
function of the brain it seems logical to suppose that the nerves, between
the inner brain and the eyes, carry the direct drive for cooperation
from the various brain centers- rather than to theorize on the
transmission
of an image which is already in required location. Hereby,
the external object viewed by the eyes remains the thing that is seen,
not the retinal image, the purpose of which would be to achieve perceptive
cooperation by stirring sympathetic impulses in the other sensory
centers, motor tensions, associated word symbols, and consciousness.

Modern physics has developed the theory that all matter consists
of minute waves of energy. We know that the number of radio and
television impulses, sound waves, ultra-violet rays, etc&, that may
occupy
the very same space, each solitary upon its own frequency, is infinite.
So we may conceive the coexistence of the infinite number of universal,
apparently momentary states of matter, successive one after
another in consciousness, but permanent each on its own basic phase of
the progressive frequencies. This theory makes it possible for any
event throughout eternity to be continuously available at any moment to
consciousness. Space in any form is completely measured by the
three dimensions. If the fourth dimension is a physical concept and
not purely metaphysical, through what medium does it extend? It is
not through space nor time that the time machine most approved by science
fiction must travel for a visit to the permanent prehistoric past,
or the ever-existent past-fantasy future. Three seconds flat is the
usual time, and the space is crossed by moderate mileage, while the
overwhelming immensity of such journeys must be conceived as a static
pulsation through an enormous number of coexistent frequencies which
perpetuate all events. The body, senses and brain, in common with
all matter, have their counterpart on each of a countless number of
frequencies. The senses in each counterpart bear the impression only
of phenomena that share its own frequency, whereas those upon all other
frequencies are invisible, inaudible and intactible to them. Consciousness
is the factor that provides the progressive continuity to sensory
impressions. When consciousness deserts the sleeping body and the
wakeful world, it continues in the myriad progressions of the ever-present
past and future, in a life as vibrant and real as the one left
when the body tired and required sleep. If the photographically
realistic continuity of dreams, however bizarre their combinations,
denies that it is purely a composition of the brain, it must be compounded
from views of diverse realities, although some of them may never
be encountered in what we are pleased to call the real life. Dr&
H& V& Hilprecht, Professor of Assyrian at the University
of Pennsylvania, dreamed that a Babylonian priest, associated with
the king Kurigalzu, (1300 B&C&) escorted him to the treasure
chamber of the temple of Bel, gave him six novel points of information
about a certain broken relic, and corrected an error in its identification.
As a matter of fact, the incorrect classification, the result
of many weeks of labor by Dr& Hilprecht, was about to be published
by him the following day. Some time later the missing part of the relic
was found and the complete inscription, together with other new evidence,
fully corroborated the ancient priest's information. Dr&
Hilprecht was uncertain as to the language used by the ancient priest
in his dream. He was almost positive it was not Assyrian nor Cassite,
and imagined it must have been German or English. We may
conclude that all six points of information, ostensibly given by the
dream priest, <could have> been furnished by Dr& Hilprecht's
<subconscious> reasoning. But, in denying any physical reality for
this dream, how could the brain possibly compose that realistic, vividly
visual continuity uninterrupted by misty fadeout, violent break or
sudden substitution? Which theory is more fantastic: 1. that the
perfect continuity was composed from the joblot of memory impressions
in the professor's brain, or 2. that the dream was a reality on the
infinite progressions of universal, gradient frequencies, across which
the modern professor and the priest of ancient Nippur met?

The degree of circumstance, the ratio of memory to forgetfulness, determines

whether a dream will be a recognized, fulfilled prevision, or
the vaguely, effective source of the weird <deja vue> feeling. No
doubt some experiences vanish so completely as to leave no trace on the
sleeper's mind. Probably less than one percent of our previsions
escape final obliteration before we wake. When we arrive at the events
concerned in the vanished majority, they, of course, cannot impress
us as anything familiar. Nevertheless, there are notably frequent
instances of <deja vue,> in which our recognition of an entirely novel
event is a feeling of having lived through it before, a feeling which,
though vague, withstands the verbal barrage from the most impressive
corps of psychologists. If <deja vue> is an illusion, then peculiarly,
it is a most prevalent mental disturbance affecting even the most
level-headed people. Chauncey Depew, one-time runner-up for
the Republican Presidential nomination, was attending a convention
at Saratoga, where he was scheduled to nominate Colonel Theodore Roosevelt
for Governor of New York when he noticed that the temporary
chairman was a man he had never met. After the preliminary business
affair was finished Depew arose and delivered the convincing speech
that clinched the nomination for Roosevelt. If Depew had told any
academic psychologist that he had a weird feeling of having lived through
that identical convention session at some time in the past, he would
have been informed that he was a victim of <deja vue>. But the famous
orator felt more than vague recognition for the scene. He remembered
exactly when he had lived through it before, and he had something
to prove he had. One week before the convention, Depew was
seated on the porch of a country home on the Hudson, gazing at the opposite
shore.

"THE FOOD IS WONDERFUL and it is a lot of fun to be here"!

So wrote a ten year old student in a letter to his parents

from North Country School, Lake Placid, New York. In this
one sentence, he unwittingly revealed the basic philosophy of the nutrition
and psychological programs in operation at the school. Because
the food is selected with thought for its nutritional value, care
for its origin, and prepared in a manner that retains the most nutrients,
the food <does> taste good. When served in a psychological
atmosphere that allows young bodies to assimilate the greatest good from
what they eat because they are free from tension, a foundation is laid
for a high level of health that releases the children from physical
handicaps to participate with enjoyment in the work assignments, the
athletic programs and the most important phase, the educational opportunities.

Situated in a region of some of the loveliest mountain

scenery in the country, the school buildings are located amid open
fields
and farm lands. These contemporary structures, beautifully adapted to
a school in the country, are home to 60 children, ages eight to fourteen,
grades four through eight. From fourteen states and three foreign
countries they come to spend the months from mid-September to June.

The Director, Walter E& Clark, believes that a school

with children living full time in its care must take full responsibility
for their welfare. To him this means caring for the whole child,
providing basic nutrition, and a spiritual attitude that lends freedom
for the development of the mind.

#IMPROVED FARMING METHODS#

The
concept of good nutrition really began with the garden. The school has
always maintained a farm to supply the needs of the school. In a climate
hostile to agriculture, Mr& Clark has had to keep alert to the
most productive farm techniques. Where a growing season may,
with luck, allow 60 days without frost, and where the soil is poor,
sandy, quick-drying and subject to erosion, many farmers fail. Throughout
the Adirondack region abandoned farm homes and wild orchards bear
ghostly testimony that their owners met defeat. Mr& Clark
found that orthodox procedures of deep plowing, use of chemical fertilizers
and insecticides, plus the application of conservation principles
of rotation and contouring, did not prevent sheet erosion in the potato
fields and depreciation of the soil. "To give up these
notions required a revolution in thought", Mr& Clark said in reminiscing
about the abrupt changes in ideas he experienced when he began
reading "Organic Gardening" and "Modern Nutrition" in a
search for help with his problems. "Louis Bromfield's writings
excited me as a conservationist". By 1952 he was convinced he
would no longer spray. He locked his equipment in a cabinet where it
still remains. After reading "Plowman's Folly" by Edward H&
Faulkner, he stopped plowing. The basis for compost materials
already existed on the school farm with a stable of animals for the
riding program, poultry for eggs, pigs to eat garbage, a beef herd
and wastes of all kinds. Separate pails were kept in the kitchen for
coffee grounds and egg shells. All these materials and supplementary
manure and other fertilizers from neighboring dairy and poultry
farms made over 40 tons of finished compost a year. It was applied
with a compost shredder made from a converted manure spreader.
Years of patient application of compost and leaf mulching has changed
the structure of the soil and its water-holding capacity. Soon after
the method changed, visitors began asking how he managed to irrigate
his soil to keep it looking moist, when in reality, it was the soil treatment
alone that accomplished this. To demonstrate the soil
of his vegetable gardens as it is today, Mr& Clark stooped to scoop
up a handful of rich dark earth. Sniffing its sweet smell and letting
it fall to show its good crumbly consistency, he pointed to the nearby
driveway and said, "This soil used to be like that hard packed
road over there". "People and soils respond slowly", says
Walter Clark, "but the time has now come when the gardens produce
delicious long-keeping vegetables due to this enrichment program. No
chemical fertilizers and poisonous insecticides and fungicides are
used". The garden supplies enough carrots, turnips, rutabagas,
potatoes, beets, cabbage and squash to store for winter meals in the
root cellar. The carrots sometimes don't make it through the winter;
the cabbage and squash keep until March or April. There is never
enough corn, peas or strawberries. Mr& Clark still has
to use rotenone with potatoes grown on the least fertile fields, but he
has watched the insect damage decrease steadily and hopes that continued
use of compost and leaf mulch will allow him to do without it in
the
future. A new project planned is the use of Bio-Dynamic Starter.

New ideas for improving nutrition came with the study of soil
treatment. "After the soil, the kitchen", says Mr& Clark. The
first major change was that of providing wholewheat bread instead of
white bread. "Adults take a long time to convince and you are
thwarted if you try to push". At first the kitchen help was tolerant,
but ordered their own supply of white bread for themselves. "You
can't make French toast with whole-wheat bread", was an early
complaint. Of course they learned in time that they not only could use
whole-wheat bread, but the children liked it better.

#HOMEMADE BREAD#

Mrs& Clark, as house manager, planned the menus and cared for
the ordering. Then Miss Lillian Colman came from Vermont to be
kitchen manager. Today whole grains are freshly ground every day and
baked into bread. Mr& Clark's studies taught him that the only
way to conserve the vitamins in the whole grain was prompt use of the
flour. Once the grains are ground, vitamin ~E begins to deteriorate
immediately and half of it is lost by oxidation and exposure to the
air within one week. A mill stands in a room off the kitchen.
Surrounding it are metal cans of grains ordered from organic farms in
the state. Miss Colman pours measures of whole wheat, oats, and soy
beans and turns on the motor. She goes on about her work and listens
for the completion of the grinding. The bread baked from this mixture
is light in color and fragrant in aroma. It is well liked by the children
and faculty. There is one problem with the bread. "Lillian's
bread is so good and everything tastes so much better here
that it is hard not to eat too much", said the secretary ruefully eyeing
her extra pounds.

#HOT, FRESHLY-GROUND CEREAL#

The school has

not used cold prepared cereals for years, though at one time that was
all they ever served. When the chance came, they first eliminated
cold cereal once a week, then gradually converted to hot fresh-ground
cereal every day. They serve cracked wheat, oats or cornmeal.
Occasionally, the children find steamed, whole-wheat grains for cereal
which they call "buckshot". At the beginning of the school year,
the new students don't eat the cereal right away, but within a short
time they are eating it voraciously. When they leave for vacations
they miss the hot cereal. The school has received letters from
parents asking, "What happened to Johnny? He never used to like
any hot cereal, now that's the only kind he wants. Where can we
get this cereal he likes so much"?

#BODY-BUILDING FOODS#

Salads
are served at least once a day. Vegetables are served liberally. Most
come from the root cellar or from the freezer. Home-made sauerkraut
is served once a week. Sprouted grains and seeds are used in salads
and dishes such as chop suey. Sometimes sprouted wheat is added to
bread and causes the children to remark, "Lillian, did you put nuts
in the bread today"? Milk appears twice a day. The school
raises enough poultry, pigs, and beef cattle for most of their needs.
Lots of cheese made from June grass milk is served. Hens are kept
on the range and roosters are kept with them for their fertility.

Organ meats such as beef and chicken liver, tongue and heart are
planned once a week. Also, salt water fish is on the table once a week.

For deserts, puddings and pies are each served once a week.
Most other desserts are fruit in some form, fresh fruits once daily
at least, sometimes at snack time. Dried fruits are purchased from sources
where they are neither sulphured nor sprayed. Apples come
from
a farm in Vermont where they are not sprayed. Oranges and grapefruit
are shipped from Florida weekly from an organic farm. Finding
sources for these high quality foods is a problem. Sometimes the
solution comes in unexpected ways. Following a talk by Mr& Clark
at the New York State Natural Food Associates Convention, a man
from the audience offered to ship his unsprayed apples to the school
from Vermont. Wheat-germ, brewer's yeast and ground kelp are
used in bread and in dishes such as spaghetti sauce, meat loaves. Miss
Colman hopes to find suitable shakers so that kelp can be available
at the tables. Raw wheat-germ is available on the breakfast table
for the children to help themselves. Very few fried foods are
used and the use of salt and pepper is discouraged. Drinking with meals
is also discouraged; pitchers of water merely appear on the tables.

Nothing is peeled. The source is known so there is no necessity

to remove insecticide residues. The cooking conserves a maximum
of the vitamin ~C content of vegetables by methods which use very
little water and cook in the shortest time possible.

#WHOLESOME SNACKS,
NO CANDY#

Since Mr& Clark believes firmly that the chewing

of hard foods helps develop healthy gums and teeth, raw vegetables and
raw whole-wheat grains are handed out with fresh fruit and whole-wheat
cookies at snack time in the afternoons. To solve the problem of the
wheat grains spilling on the floor and getting underfoot, a ball of
maple syrup boiled to candy consistency was invented to hold the grains.

On their frequent hikes into the nearby mountains, the children

carry whole grains to munch along the trail. They learn to like
these so well that it isn't surprising to hear that one boy tried the
oats he was feeding his horse at chore time. They tasted good to him,
so he brought some to breakfast to eat in his cereal bowl with milk
and honey. Maple syrup is made by the children in the woods
on the school grounds. This and raw sugar replace ordinary refined sugar
on the tables and very little sugar is used in cooking. Candy is
not allowed. Parents are asked in the bulletin to send packages of treats
consisting of fruit and nuts, but no candy.

#NOURISHING MEALS#

Mr& Clark believes in a good full breakfast of fruit, hot cereal,

milk, honey, whole-wheat toast with real butter and eggs. The heavy
meal comes in the middle of the day. Soup is often the important dish
at supper. Homemade of meat, bones and vegetables, it is rich in dissolved
minerals and vitamins. The school finds that the children
are satisfied with smaller amounts of food since all of it is high
in quality. The cost to feed one person is just under one dollar a
day.

#OUTDOOR EXERCISES#

Even before he saw the necessity of growing

better food and planning good nutrition, Mr& Clark felt the school
had a good health program. Rugged outdoor exercise for an hour and
a half every day in all kinds of weather was the rule. A vigorous
program existed in skiing, skating sports and overnight hiking.

#HEALTHIER
CHILDREN#

Since the change to better nutrition, he feels he

can report on improvements in health, though he considers the following
statements observations and not scientific proof. Visitors to
the school ask what shampoo they use on the children's hair to bring
out the sheen. The ruddy complexion of the faces also brings comment.

BUFFETED by swirling winds, the little green biplane struggled

northward between the mountains beyond Northfield Gulf. Wires
whined as a cold November blast rocked the silver wings, but the engine
roar was reassuring to the pilot bundled in the open cockpit. He
peered ahead and grinned as the railroad tracks came into view again
below. "Good old iron compass"! he thought. A plume
of smoke rose from a Central Vermont locomotive which idled behind
a string of gravel cars, and little figures that were workmen labored
to set the ruptured roadbed to rights. The girders of a shattered
Dog River bridge lay strewn for half a mile downstream. Vermont's
main railroad line was prostrate. And in the dark days after the Great
Flood of 1927- the worst natural disaster in the state's
history-
the little plane was its sole replacement in carrying the United
States mails. Rain of near cloudburst proportions had fallen
for three full days and it was still raining on the morning of Friday,
November 4, 1927, when officials of the Post Office Department's
Railway Mail Service realized that their distribution system for
Vermont had been almost totally destroyed overnight. Clerks and postmasters
shoveled muck out of their offices- those who still had offices-
and wondered how to move the mail. The state's railroad system
counted miles of broken bridges and missing rights-of-way: it would
obviously remain out of commission for weeks. And once medicine,
food, clothing and shelter had been provided for the flood's victims,
communications and the mail were the next top problems. From
Burlington, outgoing mail could be ferried across Lake Champlain
to the railroad at Port Kent, N& Y&. But what came in was piling
up. The nearest undisrupted end of track from Boston was at Concord,
N& H&. When Governor Al Smith offered New York National
Guard planes to fly the mail in and out of the state, it seemed
a likely temporary solution, easing Burlington's bottleneck and that
at Montpelier too. The question was "Where to land"?
There was no such thing as an airport in Vermont. Burlington aviator
John J& Burns suggested the parade ground southwest of Fort
Ethan Allen, and soon a dozen hastily-summoned National Guard pilots
were bringing their wide-winged "Jenny" and DeHaviland two-seaters
to rest on the frozen sod of the military base. The only
available field that could be used near flood-ravaged Montpelier was
on the Towne farm off upper Main Street, a narrow hillside where
takeoffs and landings could be safely made only under light wind conditions.
Over in Barre the streets had been deep in swirling water, and
bridges were crumpled and gone. Anticipating delivery of medicines
and yeast by plane, Granite City citizens formed an airfield committee
and with the aid of quarrymen and the 172nd Infantry, Vermont National
Guard, laid out runways on Wilson flat, high on Millstone Hill.
The "Barre Aviation Field" was set to receive its first
aircraft the Sunday following the flood. Though the makeshift
airports were ready, the York State Guard flyers proved unable to
keep any kind of mail schedule. They had courage but their meager training
consisted of weekend hops in good weather, in and out of established
airports, And the increasingly cold weather soon raised hob with
the water cooled engines of their World War /1, planes. It seemed
like a good time for officials to use a recently-passed law empowering
the post office department to contract for the transport of first
class mail by air. They had to act fast, for letters were clogging the
terminals. Down in Concord, New Hampshire, was a flier
in the right place at the right time: Robert S& Fogg, a native
New Englander, had been a World War /1, flying instructor, barnstormer,
and one of the original planners of the Concord Airport. Tall,
wiry, dark-haired Bob Fogg had already racked up one historical
first in air mail history. Piloting a Curtiss Navy ~MF flying
boat off Lake Winnipesaukee in 1925, he had inaugurated the original
Rural Delivery air service in America. During the excitement
following Lindbergh's flight to Paris earlier in 1927, dare devil
aviators overnight became legendary heroes. In Concord, Bob
Fogg
was the most prominent New Hampshire boy with wings. Public-spirited
backers staked him to a brand-new airplane, aimed at putting their
city and state on the flying map. The ship was a Waco biplane, one
of the first two of its type to be fitted with the air cooled, 225~HP
Wright radial engine known as the Whirlwind. A trim green and silver-painted
craft only 22-1/2 feet long, the Waco was entered to
compete in the "On-to-Spokane" Air Derby of 1927. As a matter
of fact, Fogg and his plane didn't get beyond Pennsylvania in the
race- an engine oil leak forced him down- but the flying service
and school he started subsequently were first steps in paying off his
wry-faced backers. So with all this experience, Bob Fogg was a natural
choice to receive the first Emergency Air Mail Star Route contract.
His work began just six days after the flood. By airline
from Concord to Burlington is a distance of about 150 miles, counting
a slight deviation for the stop at either Barre or Montpelier.
The first few days Bob Fogg set his plane down on Towne field back
of the State House when the wind was right, and used Wilson flat
above Barre when it wasn't. Between the unsafe Towne field and the
long roundabout back road haul that was necessary to gain access to
Wilson flat, arrangements at the state capital were far from satisfactory.
Each time in, the unhappy pilot, pushing his luck, begged the postal
officials that met him to find a safer landing place, preferably
on the flat-topped hills across the Winooski River. "But
Fogg", they countered, "we can't get over there. And besides you
seem to make it all right here". It took a tragedy to bring things
to a head. After a week of precarious uphill landings and downwind
takeoffs, Fogg one day looked down at the shattered yellow wreckage
of an Army plane strewn across snow-covered Towne field. Sent to
Montpelier by Secretary Herbert Hoover, Red Cross Aide Reuben
Sleight had been killed, and his pilot, Lt& Franklin Wolfe, badly
injured. With the field a blur of white the unfortunate pilot had simply
flown into the hillside. Faced with this situation, Postmaster
Charles F& McKenna of Montpelier went with Fogg on a Burlington
trip, and together they scouted the terrain on the heights
of Berlin. A long flat known as the St& John field seemed to answer
their purpose, and since the Winooski bridges were at last passable,
they decided to use it. With a wary eye on the farmer's
bull, Fred Somers of Montpelier and Mr& St& John marked the
field with a red table cloth. As a wind direction indicator, they tied
a cotton rag to a sapling. With these aids, and a pair of skiis substituting
for wheels on the Waco, Bob Fogg made the first landing on
what is now part of the Barre-Montpelier Airport on November 21,
1927. Each trip saw the front cockpit filled higher with mail
pouches. During the second week of operations, Fogg received a telegram
from the Post Office Department, asking him to "put on two airplanes
and make two flights daily, plus one Sunday trip". Since
Fogg's was a one-man, one-plane flying service, this meant that he
would have to do both trips, flying alone 600 miles a day, under sub-freezing
temperature conditions. Over the weeks, America's
first Star Route Air Mail settled into a routine pattern despite the
vagaries of weather and the lack of ground facilities and aids to navigation.
Each morning at five Fogg crawled out of bed to bundle into
flying togs over the furnace register of his home. Always troubled
by poor circulation in his feet, he experimented with various combinations
of socks and shoes before finally adopting old-style felt farmer's
boots with his sheepskin flying boots pulled over them. A sheep-lined
leather flying suit, plus helmet, goggles and mittens completed
his attire for the rigors of the open cockpit. The airman's stock answer
to "Weren't you cold"? became "Yes, the first half hour
is tough, but by then I'm so numb I don't notice it"!

As daylight began to show through the frosty windows, Fogg would

place a call to William A& Shaw at the U& S& Weather Station
at Northfield, Vermont, for temperature and wind-velocity readings.
Shaw could also give the flyer a pretty good idea of area visibility
by a visual check of the mountains to be seen from his station.
"Ceilings" were judged by comparison with known mountain heights
and cloud positions. Later on in the day Fogg could get a better weather
picture from the Burlington Weather Bureau supervised by Frank
E& Hartwell. Out at the airport each morning, Fogg's
skilled mechanic Caleb Marston would have the Waco warmed up and running
in the drafty hangar. (He'd get the engine oil flowing with an
electric heater under a big canvas cover.) Wishing to show that aviation
was dependable and here to stay, Bob Fogg always made a point
of taking off each morning on the dot of seven, disregarding rain, snow
and sleet in true postal tradition. Concord learned to set its clocks
by the rackety bark of the Whirlwind's exhaust overhead. Sometimes
the pilot had to turn back if fully blocked by fog, but 85% of his
trips were completed. Plane radios were not yet available,
and once in the air, Fogg flew his ship by compass, a good memory for
landmarks as seen from above, and a capacity for dead reckoning and quick
computation. Often, threading through the overcast, he was forced
to fly close to the ground by a low ceiling, skimming above the Winooski
or the White River along the line of the broken railroad. When
driving rain or mist socked in one valley, Fogg would chandelle up
and over to reverse course and try another one, ranging from the Ottauquechee
up to Danville in search of safe passage through the mountain
passes. The dependable Wright engine was never stopped on
these trips. It ticked over smoothly, idling while Fogg exchanged
mails with the armed messenger from Burlington at Fort Ethan Allen,
and one from Montpelier and Barre at the St& John field.

Sometimes, on a return trip, the aviator would "go upstairs" high

over the clouds. There he'd take a compass heading, figure his
air speed, and deduce that in a certain number of minutes he'd be over
the broad meadows of the Merrimack Valley where it would be safe
to let down through the overcast and see the ground before it hit him.
Bob Fogg didn't have today's advantages of Instrument Flight
and Ground Control Approach systems. At the end of the calculated
time he'd nose the Waco down through the cloud bank and hope to break
through where some feature of the winter landscape would be recognizable.

Usually back in Concord by noon, there was just time

to get partially thawed out, refuel, and grab a bit of Mrs& Fogg's
hot broth before starting the second trip. Day after day Fogg shuttled
back and forth on his one-man air mail route, until the farmers
in their snowy barnyards and the road repairmen came to recognize the
stubby plane as their link with the rest of the country. The
flyer had his share of near-misses. At Fort Ethan Allen the ever-present
wind off Lake Champlain could readily flip a puny man-made thing
like an airplane if the pilot miscalculated. Once the soldiers from
the barracks had to hold the ship from blowing away while Fogg revved
the engine and got the tail up. At a nod of his head they let go,
turning to cup their ears against the icy slipstream. Tracks in the
snow showed the plane was airborne in less than a hundred feet.

One afternoon during a cold, powdery snowstorm, Fogg took off for
Concord from the St& John field.
{A}re you retiring now? If so, are you saying, "Where did
the last
few years go? How did I get to be sixty-five so fast? What do
I do now"? Yes, retirement seems to creep upon you suddenly.
Somehow we old-timers never figured we would ever retire. We always
thought we would die with our boots on. Out of the blue comes talk
of pension plans. Compulsory retirement at sixty-five looms on our
horizon. Still, it seems in the far future. Suddenly, one day, up it
pops! Sixty-five years and you've had it! So, now what?
Oh sure! You've thought about it before in a hazy sort of way.
But! It never seemed real; never seemed as if it could happen
to you; only to the other fellow. Now! Here it is! How
am I going to live? What am I going to do? Where do I go from
here? A great many retired people are the so-called white
collar workers. Are you one of these? If so, you are of the
old school. You are conscientious, hard working, honest, accurate,
a good penman, and a stickler for a job well done, with no loose ends.
Everything must balance to the last penny. Also you can spell, without
consulting a dictionary for every other word. You never are late
for work and seldom absent. ##

{Actually, you can take no special

credit for this.} It is the way you were taught and your way of
life. All this is standard equipment for a man of your day; your stock
in trade; your livelihood. However, the last few years
of your life, things seem to be changing. Your way doesn't seem to
be so darned important any more. You realize you are getting in the old
fogy class. To put it bluntly, you are getting out-moded. What's
happened? The answer is a new era. Now, looming on
the horizon are such things as estimated totals, calculated risks and
I&B&M& machines. The Planning Dept& comes into existence.
All sorts of plans come to life. This is followed by a boom in conferences.
Yes sir! Conferences become very popular. When a plan
burst its seams, hasty conferences supply the necessary patch, and life
goes merrily on. That's called progress! The new way of life!
Let's face it! You had your day and it was a good day. Let this
generation have theirs. Time marches on! Well, to get back
to the problem of retirement. Every retiring person has a different
situation facing him. Some have plenty of money- some have very little
money. Some are blest with an abundance of good health- some
are in poor health and many are invalids. Some have lovely homes-
some live in small apartments. Some have beautiful gardens- some not
even a blade of grass. Some have serenity of mind, the ability to accept
what they have, and make the most of it (a wonderful gift to have,
believe me)- some see only darkness, the bitter side of everything.
Well, whatever you have, that's it! You've got to learn to
live with it. Now! The question is "How are you going to
live with it"? ##
{You can sit back and moan and bewail your
lot.} Yes! You can do this. But, if you do, your life will
be just one thing- unhappiness- complete and unabridged. It
seems to me, the first thing you've got to do, to be happy, is to
face up to your problems, no matter what they may be. Make up your mind
to pool your resources and get the most out of your remaining years
of life. One thing, I am sure of, you must get an interest in life.
You've got to do something. Many of you will say, "Well,
what can I do"? Believe me! There are many, many things
to do. Find out what you like to do most and really give it a whirl.
If you can't think of a thing to do, try something- anything.
Maybe you will surprise yourself. True! We are not all great
artists. I, frankly, can't draw a straight line. Maybe you are
not that gifted either, but how about puttering around with the old paints?
You may amaze yourself and acquire a real knack for it. Anyway,
I'll bet you have a lot of fun. Do you like to sew? Does
making your own clothes or even doll clothes, interest you? Do
you love to run up a hem, sew on buttons, make neat buttonholes? If
you do, go to it. There is always a market for this line of work. Some
women can sit and sew, crochet, tat or knit by the hour, and look
calm and relaxed and turn out beautiful work. Where sewing is concerned,
I'm a total loss. When you see a needle in my hands you will
know the family buttons have fallen off and I have to sew them back on,
or get out the safety pins. Then again, there's always that
lovely old pastime of hooking or braiding rugs. Not for me, but perhaps
just the thing for you. {Well! How's about mosaic
tile, ceramics or similar arts and crafts?} Some people love to
crack tile and it's amazing what beautiful designs they come up with
as a result of their cracking good time. How about the art of
cooking? Do you yearn to make cakes and pies, or special cookies
and candies? There is always an open market for this sort of delicacy,
in spite of low calorie diets, cottage cheese and hands-off-all-sweets
to the contrary. Some people can carve most anything out
of a piece of wood. Some make beautiful chairs, cabinets, chests, doll
houses, etc&.
Perhaps you couldn't do that but have you ever tried
to see what you could do with a hunk of wood? Outside of cutting your
fingers, maybe you would come up with nothing at all, but then again,
you might turn out some dandy little gadgets. Some women get
a real thrill out of housework. They love to dust, scrub, polish,
wax floors, move the furniture around from place to place, take down the
curtains, put up new ones and have themselves a real ball. Maybe that's
your forte. It certainly isn't mine. I can look at furniture
in one spot year in and year out and really feel for sure that's
where it belongs. ##

{Perhaps you would like to become a writer.}

This gives you a wide and varied choice. Will it be short stories,
fiction, nonfiction, biography, poetry, children's stories, or even
a book if you are really ambitious? Ever since I was a
child, I have always had a yen to try my hand at writing. If you do
decide to write, you will soon become acquainted with rejection slips
and dejection. Don't be discouraged! This is just being a normal
writer. Just let the rejection slips fall where they may, and keep
on plugging, and finally you will make the grade. Few new writers have
their first story accepted, so they tell me. But, it could happen,
and it may happen to you. Then there's always hobbies, collecting
stamps, coins, timetables, salt and pepper shakers, elephants,
dogs, dolls, shells, or shall we just say collecting anything your heart
desires? I can hear some of you folks protesting. You say,
"But it costs a lot of money to have a hobby. I haven't got that
kind of money". True! It does cost a lot of money for
most hobbies but there are hobbies that are for free. How about a rock
collection, or a collection of leaves from different trees or shrubs
and in different colors? Then, take flowers. They are many and varied.
Also, there's scrap books, collecting newspaper pictures and
clippings, or any items of interest to you. It's getting interested
in something that counts. ##

{As for me, I am holding in reserve

two huge puzzles (I love puzzles)} to put together when time hangs
heavy on my hands. So far, the covers have never been off the
boxes. I just don't have time to do half the things I want to do now.

So in closing, fellow retired members, I advise you to make

the most of each day, enjoy each one to the ~n'th degree. Travel,
if you can. Keep occupied to the point you are not bored with life
and you will truly find these final days and years of your lives to
be sunshine sweet. Good Luck! To one and all- Good Days
ahead!
{A}n important criterion of maturity is creativity. The mature
person
is creative. What does it mean to be creative, a term we hear with increasing
frequency these days? When we turn to Noah Webster we find
him helpful as usual. "To be creative is to have the ability to
cause to exist- to produce where nothing was before- to bring forth
an original production of human intelligence or power". We are creative,
it seems, when we produce something which has not previously existed.
Thus creativity may run all the way from making a cake, building
a chicken coop, or producing a book, to founding a business, creating
a League of Nations or, developing a mature character. All
living creatures from the lowest form of insect or animal life evidence
the power of creativity, if it is only to reproduce a form like their
own. While man shares this procreative function with all his predecessors
in the evolutionary process, he is the only animal with a true
non-instinctive and conscious creative ability. An animal, bird or
insect creates either a burrow, or nest or hive in unending sameness
according to specie. Man's great superiority over these evolutionary
forbears is in the development of his imagination. This gives him the
power to form in his mind new image combinations of old memories, ideas
and experiences and to project them outside of himself into his environment
in new and ever-changing forms. ##

{I}t has been

truly said
that anything man can imagine he can produce or create by projecting
this inner image into its counterpart in the objective world. In our
own time we have seen the most fantastic imagery of a Jules Verne
come into actuality. The vision of a Lord Tennyson expressed in a
poem 100 years ago took visible form over London in the air blitzes of
1941. In fact all of our civilized world is the resultant of man's
projection of his imagination over the past 60 centuries or more. It
is in this one aspect, at least, that man seems to be made in the image
of his Creator. Not only can man project his imagination
out into his environment in concrete forms, but even more importantly,
he can turn it inward to help create new and better forms of himself.
We recognize that young people through imaginative mind and body training
can become athletes, acrobats, dancers, musicians and artists, developing
many potentialities. We know that actors can learn to portray
a wide variety of character roles. By this same combination of the
will and the imagination, each one of us can learn to portray permanently
the kind of character we would like to be. We must realize with
Prof& Charles Morris in his THE OPEN SELF that "Man is the
being that can continually remake himself, the artisan that is himself
the material for his own creation". ##

{S}o far in
history man
has been too greatly over-occupied with projecting things into his environment
rather than first creating the sort of person who can make
the highest use of the things he has created. Is not the present world
crisis a race between things we have created which can now destroy us
and between populations of sufficient wisdom and character to forestall
the tragedy. Is it not the obligation of us older citizens to lend
our weight to being creative on the character side and to hasten our
own maturing process? Sir Julian Huxley in his book UNIQUENESS
OF MAN makes the novel point that just as man is unique in
being the only animal which requires a long period of infancy and childhood
under family protection, so is he the only animal who has a long
period after the decline of his procreativity.

SOME recent writings assume that the ignorant young couples

are a thing of the remote, Victorian past; that nowadays all honeymooners
are thoroughly familiar with the best sex-manuals and know enough
from talk with friends and personal experimentation to take all
the anxiety and hazards out of the situation. Perhaps- but extensive
discussions with contemporary practitioners, family doctors and
gynecologists indicate that this is still an area of enormous ignorance.
Joking and talking may be freer and easier, but the important factual
information is still lacking for far too many newly-married men
and women. Various factors in the setting can still be of great
advantage in making the first intercourse a good rather than a bad
memory for one or both. Privacy must be highly assured both in time and
place. That is, locking the room or stateroom door gives privacy of
location, but it is equally important to be sure there is time enough
for an utterly unhurried fulfillment. If the wedding party lasted
late, and the travel schedule means there are only a few hours before
resuming the trip or making an early start, the husband may forestall
tensions and uncertainties by confiding to his bride that lying
in each other's arms will be bliss enough for these few hours. The
consummation should come at the next stopping place when they have a long
private time (day or night) for that purpose. ##

First intercourse
for the bride brings with it the various problems connected
with virginity and the hymen. <One thing should be clear to
both husband and wife- neither pain nor profuse bleeding has to occur
when the hymen is ruptured during the first sex act. Ignorance on this
point has caused a great deal of needless anxiety, misunderstanding
and suspicion>. The hymen is, in essence, a fragile membrane
that more or less completely covers the entrance to the vagina in most
female human beings who have not had sex relations. (Hymen, in fact,
is the Greek word for membrane.) Often it is thin and fragile
and gives way readily to the male organ at the first attempt at intercourse.
As might be expected, girls in this situation bleed very little
and perhaps not at all in the process of losing their virginity.
It is also important to realize that many girls are born without
a hymen or at most only a tiny trace of one; so that <the absence
of the hymen is by no means positive proof that a girl has had sex
relations>. But there is a basis in fact for the exaggerations
of the folk-lore beliefs. Some hymens are so strongly developed that
they cannot be torn without considerable pain to the girl and marked
loss of blood. More rarely, the hymen is so sturdy that it does not
yield to penetration. Extreme cases are on record in which the
doctor
has had to use instruments to cut through the hymen to permit marital
relations to be consummated. These cases, for all their rarity, are
so dramatic that friends and relations repeat the story until the general
population may get an entirely false notion of how often the hymen
is a serious problem to newly-weds.
##

In recent times, when sexual

matters began to be discussed more scientifically and more openly,
the emotional aspects of virginity received considerable attention.
Obviously, the bridal pair has many adjustments to make to their new
situation. Is it necessary to add to the other tensions the hazard of
making the loving husband the one who brought pain to his bride?

<Gynecologists and marriage manuals began to advise that the bride

should consult a physician before marriage. If he foresaw any problem
because of the quality of the hymen, it was recommended that simple
procedures be undertaken at once to incise the hymen or, preferably,
to dilate it>. As a natural outgrowth of this approach it was
often suggested that the doctor should complete the preparation for
painless intercourse by dilating the vagina. This recommendation
was based on the fact that the hymen was not the only barrier to smooth
consummation of the sex act. The vagina is an organ capable of
remarkable contraction and dilation. This is obvious when it is remembered
that, during childbirth, the vagina must dilate enough to permit
the passage of the baby. The intricate system of muscles that
manage the contraction and dilatation of the vagina are partly under
voluntary control. But an instinctive reflex may work against the conscious
intention of the woman. That is, when first penetration takes
place, the pressure and pain signals may <involuntarily> cause all the
vaginal muscles to contract in an effort to bar the intrusion and prevent
further pain. ##

The advantages
of dilatation by the physician
are both physical and psychological. Since it is a purely professional
situation, none of the pain is associated with love-making or the
beloved. By using instruments of gradually increasing size, the vagina
is gently, and with minimum pain at each stage, taught to yield to
an object of the appropriate shape. In this process the vaginal
muscles come under better conscious control by the girl. She learns
how to relax them to <accept>- instead of contracting them to <repel>
the entering object. Apart from the standard problem of
controlling the vaginal muscles, other serious barriers may exist that
need special gynecological treatment. It is far better to have such
conditions treated in advance than to have them show up on the honeymoon
where they can create a really serious situation. When no
medical problems exist, the newly married couple generally prefer to
cope with the adjustments of their new relationship by themselves. Special
information and guidance about the possible difficulties are still
of great value. Folk-lore, superstition and remembered passages from
erotic literature can create physical and emotional problems if blindly
taken as scientific facts and useful hints. ##

<The importance
of loving tenderness is obvious. The long, unhurried approach and
the deliberate prolongation of fore-play work on several levels. Under
the excitement of caresses and sexual stimulation the vagina relaxes
and dilates and the local moisture greatly increases, providing an excellent
lubricant to help achieve an easier penetration>. Extensive
observations by physicians during vaginal examinations have established
the fact that a single finger inserted along the anterior wall
(the top line of the vagina as the woman lies on her back) may cause
a great deal of distress in a virgin. <But> during the same examination,
<two> fingers may be inserted along the posterior wall (the
bottom of the vagina in the same position) without any pain; and in
fact without any difficulty <if the pressure is kept downward at all
times>. These regional differences of sensitivity to pain may
be of crucial significance during the earliest intercourse. The husband
and wife should start with this anatomical information clearly in
mind. They may then adjust their positions and movements to avoid too
much pressure on the urethra and the anterior wall of the vagina; at
least until repeated intercourse has dilated it and pain is no longer
a possible threat against the full pleasure of love-making. In
fact, the technical procedure in medical examinations may be wisely
adapted to his romantic purposes by the husband during the honeymoon.

Locker-room talk often stresses the idea that a man is doing

the girl a favor if he is forceful and ruthless during the first penetration.
The false reasoning is that a gradual advance prolongs the pain
while a swift powerful act gets it over with and leaves the girl pleased
with his virility and grateful for his decisiveness in settling
the problem once and for all. <Such talk is seriously in error.
Ruthlessness at this time can be a very severe shock to the bride,
both physically and psychologically. The insistent, forceful penetration
may tear and inflame the vaginal walls as well as do excessive damage
to the hymen>. <The pain and distress associated with
the performance may easily give the wife a deep-seated dread of marital
relations and cause her, unconsciously, to make the sex act unpleasant
and difficult for both by exercising her vaginal muscles to complicate
his penetration instead of relaxing them to facilitate it>. ##

Serious attention must also be given to the husband's problems in

the honeymoon situation. The necessity for keeping alert to his bride's
hazards can act as an interference with the man's spontaneous
desire. The emotional stimulation may be so great that he may experience
a premature climax. This is a very common experience and should in
no way discourage or dishearten either husband or wife. Or the
frequent need to check and discipline himself to the wisest pace of
the consummation can put him off stride and make it impossible for him
to be continuously ready for penetration over a long period. The signals
to proceed may therefore come when he is momentarily not able to
take advantage of them. The best course is to recover his physical
excitement by a change of pace that makes him ardent again. This
may require imagination and reminding himself that now he can be demanding
and self-centered. He can take security from the fact that the
progress he has made by his gentle approach will not be lost.
Now while he uses talk, caresses or requires caresses from her, his bride
will sympathetically understand the situation and eagerly help him
restore his physical situation so they can have the consummation they
both so eagerly desire. A final word. The accumulated information
on this point shows that first intercourse, even when it is achieved
with minimum pain or difficulty, is seldom an overwhelming sexual
experience to a woman. Too many new things are happening for it to
be a complete erotic fulfillment. Only under rare circumstances
would a bride experience an orgasm during her first intercourse. Both
man and wife should be aware of the fact that a lack of climax, and
even the absence of the anticipated keen pleasure are not a sign that
the wife may be cold or frigid. If the early approaches are wise,
understanding and patient, the satisfactions of marital fulfillment
will probably be discovered before the marriage is much older.

WRITING in a large volume on the nude in painting and sculptures,

titled <The Nude: A Study in Ideal Form,> Kenneth
Clark declares: "**h The human body, as a nucleus, is rich in associations.
**h It is ourselves and arouses memories of all the things
we wish to do with ourselves". Perhaps this is a clue to
the amazing variety and power of reactions, attitudes, and emotions precipitated
by the nude form. The wide divergence of reactions
is clearly illustrated in the Kinsey studies in human sexuality.
Differences were related to social, economic, and educational backgrounds.
Whereas persons of eighth grade education or less were more apt
to avoid or be shocked by nudity, those educated beyond the eighth
grade increasingly welcomed and approved nudity in sexual relations.

Such understanding helps to explain why one matron celebrating

thirty-five years of married life could declare with some pride that
her husband had "never seen her entirely naked", while another woman,
boasting an equal number of years of married life, is proud of having
"shared the nudist way of life- the really free, natural nude
life- for most of that period". Attempts at censorship always
involve and reveal such complex and multiple individual reactions.
The indignant crusader sees the nude or semi-nude
human form as "lewd
and pornographic, a threat and danger" to all the young, or good,
or religious, or moral persons. The equally ardent proponent
of
freedom from any kind of censorship may find the nude human form the
"natural, honest, free expression of man's spirit and the epitome
of beauty and inspiration". One is always a little surprised
to bump into such individual distinctions when it is unexpected. I
still recall the mild shock I experienced in reading material of an enthusiastic
advocate of the "clean, healthful, free way of natural life
in nudism", who seemed to brave much misunderstanding and persecution
in fine spirit.

@ IN TRADITION and in poetry, the marriage bed is a place

of unity and harmony. The partners each bring to it unselfish love,
and each takes away an equal share of pleasure and joy. At its
most ecstatic moments, husband and wife are elevated far above worldly
cares. Everything else is closed away. This is the ideal.
But marriage experts say that such mutual contribution and mutual joy
are seldom achieved. Instead one partner or the other dominates the
sexual relationship. In the past, it has been the husband who has been
dominant and the wife passive. But today there are signs that these
roles are being reversed. In a growing number of American homes,
marriage counselors report, the wife is taking a commanding role
in sexual relationships. It is she who decides the time, the place,
the surroundings, and the frequency of the sexual act. It is she who
says aye or nay to the intimate questions of sexual technique and mechanics-
not the husband. The whole act is tailored to <her> pleasure,
and not to <theirs>. Beyond a certain point, of course,
no woman can be dominant- nature has seen to that. But there is little
doubt that in many marriages the wife is boss of the marital bed.

Of course, there remain many "old-fashioned" marriages in

which the husband maintains his supremacy. Yet even in these marriages,
psychologists say, wives are asserting themselves more strongly. The
meekest, most submissive wife of today is a tiger by her mother's
or grandmother's standards. To many experts, this trend was
inevitable. They consider it simply a sign of our times. Our society
has "emancipated" the woman, giving her new independence and new
authority. It is only natural that she assert herself in the sexual
role. "The sexual relationship does not exist in a vacuum",
declares Dr& Mary Steichen Calderone, medical director of the
Planned Parenthood Federation of America and author of the recent
book, <Release From Sexual Tensions>. "It reflects what is going
on in other areas of the marriage and in society itself. A world
in which wives have taken a more active role is likely to produce sexual
relationships in which wives are more self-assertive, too".

Yet many psychologists and marriage counselors agree that domination

of the sex relationship by one partner or the other can be unhealthy
and even dangerous. It can, in fact, wreck a marriage. When
a husband is sexually selfish and heedless of his wife's desires, she
is cheated of the fulfillment and pleasure nature intended for her.
And she begins to regard him as savage, bestial and unworthy.
On the other hand, wifely supremacy demeans the husband, saps his self-respect,
and robs him of his masculinity. He is a target of ridicule
to his wife, and often- since private affairs rarely remain private-
to the outside world as well. "A marriage can survive almost
any kind of stress except an open and direct challenge to the husband's
maleness", declares Dr& Calderone. This opinion is supported
by one of the nation's leading psychiatrists, Dr& Maurice
E& Linden, director of the Mental Health Division of the Philadelphia
Department of Public Health. "When the roles of
husband and wife are reversed, so that the wife becomes leader and the
husband follower", Dr& Linden says, "the effects on their whole
relationship, sexual and otherwise, can be disastrous". ##

IN ONE EXTREME case, cited by a Pittsburgh psychologist, an office

worker's wife refused to have sexual relations with her husband
unless he bought her the luxuries she demanded. To win her favors, her
husband first took an additional job, then desperately began to embezzle
from his employer. Caught at last, he was sentenced to prison. While
he was in custody his wife divorced him. More typical is
the case of a suburban Long Island housewife described by a marriage
counselor. This woman repeatedly complained she was "too tired"
for marital relations. To please her, her husband assumed some of the
domestic chores. Finally, he was cooking, washing dishes, bathing the
children, and even ironing- and still his wife refused to have relations
as often as he desired them. One wife, described by a
New York psychologist, so dominated her husband that she actually placed
their sexual relationship on a schedule, writing it down right between
the weekly ~PTA meetings and the Thursday-night neighborhood
card parties. Another put sex on a dollars-and-cents basis. After
every money argument, she rebuffed her husband's overtures until the
matter was settled in her favor. Experts say the partners in
marriages like these can almost be typed. The wife is likely
to be young, sophisticated, smart as a whip- often a girl who has sacrificed
a promising career for marriage. She knows the power of the
sex urge and how to use it to manipulate her husband. The husband
is usually a well-educated professional, preoccupied with his job-
often an organization man whose motto for getting ahead is: "Don't
rock the boat". Sometimes this leads to his becoming
demandingly dominant in marriage. Hemmed in on the job and unable to
assert himself, he uses the sex act so he can be supreme in at least one
area. More often, though, he is so accustomed to submitting
to authority on the job without argument that he lives by the same rule
at home. Some psychologists, in fact, suggest that career-bound
husbands often are more to blame for topsy-turvy marriages than their
wives. The wife's attempt at control, these psychologists contend,
is sometimes merely a pathetic effort to compel her husband to pay
as much attention to her as he does to his job. Naturally no
woman can ever completely monopolize the sexual initiative. Unless her
husband also desires sex, the act cannot be consummated. Generally,
however, in such marriages as those cited, the husband is at his wife's
mercy. "The pattern", says Dr& Morton
Schillinger,
psychologist at New York's Lincoln Institute for Psychotherapy,
"is for the husband to hover about anxiously and eagerly, virtually
trembling in his hope that she will flash him the signal that tonight
is the night". No one seriously contends, of course, that
the domineering wife is, sexually speaking, a new character in our world.
After all, the henpecked husband with his shrewish wife is a comic
figure of long standing, in literature and on the stage, as Dr& Schillinger
points out. There is no evidence that these Milquetoasts
became suddenly emboldened when they crossed the threshhold of the master
bedroom. ##

FURTHERMORE, Dr& Calderone says, a certain

number of docile, retiring men always have been around. They aren't
"frigid" and they aren't homosexual; they're just restrained
in all of life. They <like> to be dominated. One such man once
confided to Dr& Theodor Reik, New York psychiatrist, that he
preferred to have his wife the sexual aggressor. Asked why, he replied
primly: "Because that's no activity for a gentleman".

But such cases were, in the past, unusual. Society here and abroad
has been built around the dominating male- even the Bible appears
to endorse the concept. Family survival on our own Western frontier,
for example, could quite literally depend on a man's strength
and ability to bring home the bacon; and the dependent wife seldom
questioned his judgment about anything, including the marriage bed.

This carried over into the more urbanized late 19th and early
20th centuries, when the man ruled the roost in the best bull-roaring
<Life With Father> manner. In those days, a wife had mighty
few rights in the domestic sphere and even fewer in the sexual sphere.
"Grandma wasn't expected to like it", Dr& Marion Hilliard,
the late Toronto gynecologist, once summed up the attitude of the
'90s. Wives of the period shamefacedly thought of themselves as
"used" by their husbands- and, history indicates, they often quite
literally were. When was the turning point? When did women
begin to assert themselves sexually? ##
SOME DATE IT from
woman suffrage, others from when women first began to challenge men
in the marketplace, still others from the era of the emancipated flapper
and bathtub gin. Virtually everyone agrees, however, that the trend
toward female sexual aggressiveness was tremendously accelerated with
the postwar rush to the suburbs. Left alone while her husband
was miles away in the city, the modern wife assumed more and more duties
normally reserved for the male. Circumstances gave her almost undisputed
sway over child-rearing, money-handling and home maintenance.
She found she could cope with all kinds of problems for which she was
once considered too helpless. She liked this taste of authority and
independence, and, with darkness, was not likely to give it up.

"Very few wives", says Dr& Calderone, "who balance the checkbook,
fix the car, choose where the family will live and deal with
the tradesmen, are suddenly going to become submissive where sex is concerned.
A woman who dominates other family affairs will dominate the
sexual relationship as well". And an additional factor was
helping to make women more sexually self-assertive- the comparatively
recent discovery of the true depths of female desire and response.
Marriage manuals and women's magazine articles began to stress the
importance of the female climax. They began to describe in detail the
woman's capacity for response. In fact, the noted psychologist
and sex researcher, Dr& Albert Ellis, has declared flatly that
women are "sexually superior" to men. According to Dr& Ellis,
the average 20-year-old American woman is capable of far greater sexual
arousal than her partner. Not surprisingly, Dr& Ellis says,
some recently enlightened wives are out to claim these capabilities.

Yet, paradoxically, according to Dr& Maurice Linden, many

wives despise their husbands for not standing up to them. An aggressive
woman wants a man to demand, not knuckle under. "When the husband
becomes passive in the face of his wife's aggressiveness", Dr&
Linden says, "the wife, in turn, finds him inadequate. Often she
fails to gain sexual satisfaction". One such wife, Dr&
Linden says, became disgusted with her weak husband and flurried through
a series of extramarital affairs in the hope of finding a stronger
man. But her personality was such that each affair lasted only until
that lover, too, had been conquered and reduced to passivity. Then the
wife bed-hopped to the next on the list. In some cases, however,
domination of the sex act by one partner can be temporary, triggered
by a passing but urgent emotional need. Thus a man who is butting
a stone wall at the office may become unusually aggressive in bed-
the one place he can still be champion. If his on-the-job problems work
out, he may return to his old pattern. Sometimes a burst of aggressiveness
will sweep over a man- or his wife- because he or she feels
age creeping up. On the other hand, a husband who always has
been vigorous and assertive may suddenly become passive- asking,
psychologists say, for reassurance that his wife still finds him desirable.
Or a wife may make sudden demands that she be courted, flattered
or coaxed, simply because she needs her ego lifted. In any case,
Dr& Calderone remarks, such problems are a couple's own affair,
and can't always be measured by a general yardstick. "As long
as the couple is in agreement in their approach to sex, it makes little
difference if one or the other dominates", Dr& Calderone declares.
"The important point is that both be satisfied with the adjustment".

Other experts say, however, that if sexual domination

by one or the other partner exists for longer than a brief period,
it is likely to shake the marriage. And just as domination today often
begins with the wife, so the cure generally must lie with the husband.

"To get a marriage back where it belongs", comments Dr&

Schillinger of the Lincoln Institute, "the husband must take
some very basic steps. He must begin, paradoxically, by becoming more
selfish. He must become more expressive of his own desires, more demanding
and less 'understanding'". Too many husbands, Dr&
Schillinger continues, worry about "how well they're doing",
and fear that their success depends on some trick or technique of sexual
play.
##

SHE GAVE HERSELF a title **h Lady Diana Harrington.

The New York D&A& gave her another **h the Golden Girl
of cafe society. Houston police gave her a third, less flamboyant,
title **h prostitute. And Houston police have the final
say in the matter since she died there on September 20, 1960, "Diane
Harris Graham, 30, D&O&A& circumstances- unusual".

Early in her life she had discovered that where there were men,
there was money, and with the two came luxury and liquor. She was still
in the play for pay business when she died, a top trollop who had
given the world's oldest profession one of its rare flashes of glamour.

She never hid the fact that she liked to play. Her neighbors
in the expensive Houston apartment building told reporters that
the ash-blonde beauty had talked at times about her past as
"the Golden
Girl of the Mickey Jelke trial". It was the trial of
oleomargarine heir Minot (Mickey) Jelke for compulsory prostitution
in New York that put the spotlight on the international play-girl.
(Jelke later served 21 months when he was found guilty of masterminding
a ring of high-priced call girls.) Diane was needed as a material
witness in the case and New York police searched three continents
before they found her in their own back yard- in a swank hotel,
of course. She had been moving in cafe society as Lady Diana Harrington,
a name that made some of the gossip columns. It was when
she was seized as a material witness that she got the designation
she liked best. Clad in mink and diamonds, she listened to Assistant
District Attorney Anthony Liebler describe her to the arraigning
judge: "This girl is the Golden Girl of cafe society.

"In 1951 she was a prostitute in New York County. In

the spring and early summer of that year she met a wealthy foreign
tycoon who took her to France, where she later met a very wealthy man
and toured all Europe with him. "At Deauville she met an
Egyptian by the name of Pulley Bey. He was the official procurer for
King Farouk, now in exile. She was in Egypt during the revolution
and had passport difficulty. She lied in order to get it. "We
have checked her in different parts of Europe and Egypt and finally
back into this country **h She has been acting as a prostitute.

"Our information is that she gave the proceeds of her acts

to Jelke". Diane sobbingly denied this to the court.
"That's a lie. I never gave that boy a cent. I am not a prostitute,
and I had only one very wealthy boy friend", she said.
During the course of the trial, Jelke backed up part of that statement.
"Diane is the type of girl", Jelke said, "who wouldn't
get loving- even on her wedding night- unless you piled up
all your money in the middle of the floor". But she seemed to
have underestimated the number of her "boy friends". She
came to New York from Detroit as a teenager, but with a "sponsor"
instead of a chaperone. As she told it, "He's a rich boy friend,
an old guy about 60". She was Mary Lou Brew then, wide-eyed,
but not naive. She had talked her "boy friend" into sending her
to New York to take a screen test.

The screen test was never made- but Diane was. She quickly
moved into cafe society, possibly easing her conscience by talking
constantly of her desire to be in show business. She seemed
so anxious to go on the stage that some of her friends in the cocktail
circuit set up a practical joke. An ex-fighter was introduced
to her in a bar as "Mr& Warfield, the famous producer". The
phony producer asked her if she would like to be in one of his shows.

"I'd love to audition for you", she gushed. The

audition was held a few minutes later in somebody's apartment. She
thought she had great possibilities in the ballet and wanted to show
the eminent producer how well she could dance. After a few minutes
he said, "I can't use you if you dance like that. I'd like
to see you dance nude". She hastily complied. Diane loved
to dance in the nude, something she was to demonstrate time and again.

She developed another quaint habit. Even among the fast set
in which she was moving, her method for keeping an escort from departing
too early was unique. When the date would try to bid her
good-night at the door, she would tell him, "If you go home now, I'll
scream". More often than not he would bow to the inevitable.

One who needed no such threats was a French financier. One of

the blonde's yearnings that he satisfied was for travel. She wanted
to go around the world, but she settled for a French holiday.

In an anonymous interview with a French newspaper the financier told

of spending several months with her. "Then she went to Deauville
where she met a member of a powerful Greek syndicate of gamblers".

The Greek evidently fell for her, "Monsieur ~X" recounted,

and to clinch what he thought was an affair in the making he
gave her 100,000 francs (about $300) and led her to the roulette tables.

She could do no wrong at the tables that time. And in short

order the croupier had pushed several million francs her way. Smarter
than most gamblers, she slipped away from the casino, packed her bag
and took the night train to Paris. No one ever learned what happened
to the Greek. The luxury of Paris' most fashionable hotel,
the George /5,, bored the beautifully-built blonde, so she high-tailed
it to Rome. She teamed up with another beauty, whose
name has been lost to history, and commenced with some fiddling that
would have made Nero envious. To climax her Roman revels, she
was thrown out of the swanky Hotel Excelsior after she had run naked
through its marble halls screaming for help. It was a rugged
finish for what must have been a very interesting night. Discreet
Italian police described it in a manner typically continental.
"There had been a threesome at the party in the suite's bedroom:
Miss Harrington (this was Diane's choice for a Roman name),
another woman who has figured in other very interesting events and
one of your well-known American actors. "The actor had had
much to drink and apparently became very violent. The hotel staff,
as well as residents of the Excelsior, told us they saw that both ladies
were bleeding from scratches as they were seen fleeing down the hall.

"They were wearing nothing but their scratches. They were

asked to leave the hotel. No charges were filed". The girls,
after dressing, were indignant. "You can't do this to
us", Diane screamed. "We are Americans". In the morning
she found rooms directly across from the Excelsior at the equally
luxurious Hotel Ambassador. With the Ambassador as headquarters,
she continued to promote good will abroad. Of course, her benevolence
was limited to those who could afford it, but then there is a
limit to what one person can do. By this time Diane was a beguiling
lass of 19 and still seeking her place in the world. She thought
royal status might come her way when, while she was still in Rome,
she met Pulley Bey, a personal procurer to King Farouk of Egypt.

A close friend of hers in the Roman days described it this

way: "It was a strange relationship. Pulley Bey spoke no
English. Diane spoke no Italian or French. She had a hard time
making him understand that it was Farouk she wished to meet. "Pulley
Bey insisted that she bestow her favors on him", the friend
continued. It seemed as though she were always auditioning.
No believer in the traditional devotion of royal servitors, the plump
Pulley broke the language barrier and lured her to Cairo where she
waited for nine months, vainly hoping to see Farouk. Pulley
had set her up at the Semiramis Hotel, but she grew impatient waiting
for a royal reception and moved to a luxurious apartment to which the
royal pimp had no key. She picked her own Middle-Eastern friends
from the flock of ardent Egyptians that buzzed around her. Tewfik
Badrawi, Mohammed Gaafer and numerous other wealthy members of
Cairo society enjoyed her company. "So extensive became her
circle of admirers", Egyptian police said, "that her escapades
caused distrust". The roof was about ready to fall in on Diane's
little world, but it took nothing less than the Egyptian revolution
to bring it down. When Farouk was overthrown, police picked up
his personal pimp, Pulley Bey. They also called upon Diane with
a request for a look at her passport. The cagey Pulley Bey,
who spoke no English, had taken the passport so that Diane
couldn't
leave the country without his approval. Officials provided a temporary
passport, good only for return to the United States. And
return to the United States she did, into waiting arms- the unromantic
ones of the New York District Attorney's office. Held
as a material witness in the compulsory prostitution trial of Mickey
Jelke, the comely courtesan was unable to raise bail and was committed
to the Women's House of Detention, a terribly overcrowded prison.

It is a tribute to her talents that she was able to talk

the District Attorney into having her removed from the prison to a
hotel room, with her meals taken at Vesuvio's, an excellent Italian
restaurant. Newspapers at the time noted that the move indicated
that she was co-operating with the District Attorney. With
the end of the trial Diane disappeared from New York **h it was
no longer fashionable to be seen with fabulous "Lady Harrington".
Several years ago she married a Houston business man, Robert
Graham. She later divorced Graham, who is believed to have moved
to Bolivia. Houston police got to know Diane two years ago
when the vice squad picked her up for questioning about a call girl ring.
Last May, they said, she admitted being a prostitute. The
next time the police saw her she was dead. It was September
20, 1960, in a lavishly decorated apartment littered with liquor bottles.
She had had a party with a regular visitor, Dr& William W&
McClellan. McClellan, who had once lost his medical license
temporarily on a charge of drug addiction, was with her when she died.
He had been in the apartment two days and was hazy about what had
happened during that time. When he realized she was dead, he called
two lawyers and then the police. When the police arrived, they
found McClellan and the two lawyers sitting and staring silently.

The blonde's nude body was in bed, a green sheet and a pink
blanket covered her. Pictures of her in more glamorous days were on the
walls. An autopsy disclosed a large amount of morphine in Diane's
body. Police theorize that a combination of dope, drink and
drugs killed her. "I think that maybe she wanted it this way",
a vice squad cop said. "A maid told us that she still bragged
about getting $50 a date. She was on the junk, and they slide fast when
that happens. At least she never knew what the bottom was
like".
I AM a carpet salesman. I work for one of the biggest chains
of retail carpet houses in the East. We cater mostly to nice people
in the $5-8,000 annual income bracket and we run a string of snazzy,
neon-lit, chromium-plated suburban stores. I am selling the
stuff of which is made one of the Great American Dreams- <wall-to-wall
carpeting>. There is only one trouble with this big,
beautiful dream. From where I sit it looks more like a nightmare.

People come to me with confidence. They depend on my supposedly

expert knowledge of a trade of which they themselves know little.

But I knowingly abuse their confidence.

FRANKLIN D& Lee proved a man of prompt action when Mrs&
Claire Shaefer, accompanied by a friend, visited him in Bakersfield,
California, several months ago as a prospective patient. "Doctor"
Lee asked her to lie down on a bed and remove her shoes. Then,
by squeezing her foot three times, he came up- presto- with a
different diagnosis with each squeeze. She had- he informed her-
kidney trouble, liver trouble, and a severe female disorder. (He explained
that he could diagnose these ailments from squeezing her foot because
all of the nervous system was connected to it.) He knew just the
thing for her- a treatment from his "cosmic light ozone generator"
machine. As he applied the applicator extending from the
machine- which consisted of seven differently colored neon tubes superimposed
on a rectangular base- to the supposedly diseased portions
of Mrs& Shaefer's body, Lee kept up a steady stream of pseudo-scientific
mumbo-jumbo. Yes, the ozone from his machine would cure practically
everything, he assured her. Did she know, he asked, why the
colors of the tubes were important to people's health? The human
body- he pointed out, for example- required 33 units of blue light.
For that reason, he informed her, the Lord made the sky blue. Continuing
glibly in this vein, he paused to comfort her: "Don't
you worry. This machine will cure your cancer-ridden body".
"Cancer"! Mrs& Shaefer practically shrieked. "You
didn't tell me I had cancer". "You have it, all right.
But as long as you can have treatment from my machine you have nothing
to worry about. Why, I once used this machine to cure a woman with
97 pounds of cancer in her body". He urged her to buy one
of his machines- for $300. When she said that she didn't have the
money, he said that she could come in for treatment with his office
model until she was ready to buy one. He then sold her minerals to cure
her kidney ailment, a can of sage "to make her look like a girl again",
and an application of plain mud to take her wrinkles away.

Lee renewed his pressure on Mrs& Shaefer to buy his machine

when she visited him the next day. After another treatment with the machine,
he told her that "her entire body was shot through with tumors
and cysts". He then sold her some capsules that he asserted would
take care of the tumors and cysts until she could collect the money
for buying his machine. When she submitted to his treatment with
the capsules, Mrs& Shaefer felt intense pain. Leaving Lee's
office, Mrs& Shaefer hurried over to her family physician, who treated
her for burned tissue. For several days, she was ill as a result
of Lee's treatment. Mrs& Shaefer never got around to
joining the thousand or so people who paid Lee some $30,000 for his ozone
machines. For Mrs& Shaefer- who had been given a clean bill
of health by her own physician at the time she visited Lee- and her
friend were agents for the California Pure Food and Drug Inspection
Bureau. And she felt amply rewarded for her suffering when the
evidence of Lee's quack shenanigans, gathered by the tape recorder
under her friend's clothing, proved adequate in court for convicting
Franklin D& Lee. The charge: violation of the California Medical
Practices Act by practicing medicine without a license and selling
misbranded drugs. The sentence: 360 days' confinement in the
county jail. An isolated case of quackery? By no means. Rather,
it is typical of the thousands of quacks who use phony therapeutic
devices to fatten themselves on the miseries of hundreds of thousands
of Americans by robbing them of millions of dollars and luring them
away from legitimate, ethical medical treatment of serious diseases.
The machine quack makes his Rube Goldberg devices out of odds and
ends of metals, wires, and radio parts. With these gadgets-
impressive to the gullible because of their flashing light bulbs, ticks,
and buzzes- he then carries out a vicious medical con game, capitalizing
on people's respect for the electrical and atomic wonders of
our scientific age. He milks the latest scientific advances, translating
them into his own special Buck Rogers vocabulary to huckster his
fake machines as a cure-all for everything from hay fever to sexual
impotence and cancer. The gadget faker operates or sells his
phony machines for $5 to $10,000-
anything the traffic will bear. He
may call himself a naprapath, a physiotherapist, an electrotherapist,
a naturopath, a sanipractor, a medical cultist, a masseur, a "doctor"-
or what have you. Not only do these quacks assume impressive
titles, but represent themselves as being associated with various scientific
or impressive foundations-
foundations which often have little
more than a letterhead existence. The medical device pirate
of today, of course, is a far more sophisticated operator than his predecessor
of yesteryear- the gallus-snapping hawker of snake oil and
other patent medicines. His plunder is therefore far higher- running
into hundreds of millions. According to the Food and Drug
Administration (~FDA), "Doctor" Ghadiali, Dr& Albert
Abrams and his clique, and Dr& Wilhelm Reich- to name three notorious
device quacks- succeeded, respectively, in distributing 10,000,
5000, and 2000 fake health machines. Authorities believe
that many of the Doctor Frauds using these false health gadgets are
still in business. Look at the sums paid by two device quack victims
in Cleveland. Sarah Gross, a dress shop proprietor, paid $1020 to
a masseur, and Mr& A&, a laborer, paid $4200 to a chiropractor for
treatment with two fake health machines- the "radioclast" and
the "diagnometer". Multiply these figures by the millions of people
known to be conned by medical pirates annually. You will come up
with a frightening total. That's why the ~FDA, the American
Medical Association (~AMA), and the National Better Business
Bureau (~BBB) have estimated the toll of mechanical quackery
to be a substantial portion of the $610 million or so paid to medical
charlatans annually. The Postmaster General recently reported
that mail order frauds- among which fake therapeutic devices
figure prominently- are at the highest level in history. Similarly,
the American Cancer Society (~ACS), the Arthritis and Rheumatism
Foundation, and the ~BBB have each stated lately that medical
quackery is at a new high. For example, the ~BBB has reported
it was receiving four times as many inquiries about quack devices and
10 times as many complaints compared with two years ago. Authorities
hesitate to quote exact figures, however, believing that any
sum they come up with is only a surface manifestation- turned up by
their inevitably limited policing- of the real loot of the medical
racketeer. In this sense, authorities believe that all estimates of phony
device quackery are conservative. The economic toll that
the device quack extracts is important, of course. But it is our health-
more precious than all the money in the world- that these modern
witch doctors with their fake therapeutic gadgets are gambling away.
By preying on the sick, by playing callously on the hopes of the desperate,
by causing the sufferer to delay proper medical care, these medical
ghouls create pain and misery by their very activity. Typically,
Sarah Gross and Mr& ~A both lost more than their money
as the result of their experiences with their Cleveland quacks. Sarah
Gross found that the treatments given her for a nervous ailment
by the masseur were not helping her. As a result, she consulted medical
authorities and learned that the devices her quack "doctor" was
using were phony. She suffered a nervous breakdown and had to be
institutionalized.

Mr& A&, her fellow townsman, also experienced

a nervous breakdown just as soon as he discovered that he had been
bilked of his life savings by the limited practitioner who had been
treating his wife- a woman suffering from an incurable disease, multiple
sclerosis- and himself. Mr& ~A has recovered, but he is,
justifiably, a bitter man. "That's a lot of hard-earned money to
lose", he says today. "Neither me nor my wife were helped by that
chiropractor's treatments". And there was the case of Tom
Hepker, a machinist, who was referred by a friend to a health machine
quack who treated him with a so-called diagnostic machine for what
Doctor Fraud said was a system full of arsenic and strychnine. After
his pains got worse, Tom decided to see a real doctor, from whom he
learned he was suffering from cancer of the lung. Yes, Tom caught
it in time to stay alive. But he's a welfare case now- a human wreck-
thanks to this modern witch doctor. But the machine quack
can cause far more than just suffering. In such diseases as cancer,
tuberculosis, and heart disease, early diagnosis and treatment are so
vital that the waste of time by the patient with Doctor Fraud's
cure-all gadget can prove fatal. Moreover, the diabetic patient who relies
on cure by the quack device and therefore cuts off his insulin intake
can be committing suicide. For instance: In Chicago,
some time ago, Mr& H&, age 27, a diabetic since he was six, stopped
using
insulin because he had bought a "magic spike"- a glass tube
about the size of a pencil filled with barium chloride worth a small
fraction of a cent- sold by the Vrilium Company of Chicago for $306
as a cure-all. "Hang this around your neck or attach it to other
parts of your anatomy, and its rays will cure any disease you have",
said the company. Mr& H& is dead today because he followed this
advice. Doris Hull, suffering from tuberculosis, was taken
by her husband to see Otis G& Carroll, a sanipractor- a licensed
drugless healer- in Spokane. Carroll diagnosed Mrs& Hull by
taking a drop of blood from her ear and putting it on his "radionic"
machine and twirling some knobs (fee $50). His prescription:
hot and cold compresses to increase her absorption of water. Although
she weighed only 108 pounds when she visited him, Carroll permitted
her to go on a 10-day fast in which she took nothing but water.
Inevitably, Mrs& Hull died of starvation and tuberculosis, weighing
60 pounds. Moreover, her husband and child contracted T&B&
from her. (Small wonder a Spokane jury awarded the husband $35,823
for his wife's death.) In California, a few years ago, a ghoul
by the name of H& F& Bell sold electric blankets as a cure
for cancer. He did this by the charming practice of buying up used electric
blankets for $5 to $10 from survivors of patients who had died,
reconditioning them, and selling them at $185 each. When authorities
convicted him of practicing medicine without a license (he got off with
a suspended sentence of three years because of his advanced age of
77), one of his victims was not around to testify: He was dead of
cancer. By no means are these isolated cases. "Unfortunately",
says Chief Postal Inspector David H& Stephens, who has prosecuted
many device quacks, "the ghouls who trade on the hopes of
the desperately ill often cannot be successfully prosecuted because the
patients who are the chief witnesses die before the case is called up
in court". ##

DEATH! Have no doubt about it. That's

where device quackery can lead. The evidence shows that fake therapeutic
machines, substituted for valid medical cures, have hastened the
deaths of thousands. Who are the victims of the device quacks?
Authorities say that oldsters are a prime target. Says Wallace
F& Jannsen, director of the ~FDA's Division of Public Information:
"Quacks are apt to direct their appeal directly to older
people, or to sufferers from chronic ailments such as arthritis, rheumatism,
diabetes, and cancer. People who have not been able to get
relief from regular medical doctors are especially apt to be taken in
by quacks". The victims of the quacks are frequently poor people, like
Mr& A&, who scrape up their life savings to offer as a sacrifice
to Doctor Fraud's avarice. They are often ignorant as well as
underprivileged.

TEN-YEAR-OLD Richard Stewart had been irritable and quarrelsome

for almost a year. His grades had gone steadily downhill, and
he had stopped bringing
friends and classmates home from school.

Mr& and Mrs& Stewart were puzzled and concerned. Then one day
Dick's classmate Jimmy, from next door, let the cat out of the
bag. The youngsters in the boys' class had nicknamed Dick "Bugs
Bunny" because his teeth protruded. When Richard's parents
told him they wanted to take him to an orthodontist- a dentist who
specializes in realigning teeth and jaws- their young son was interested.
During the year that followed, Dick co-operated whole-heartedly
with the dentist and was delighted with the final result achieved-
an upper row of strong straight teeth that completely changed his
facial appearance. Richard Stewart is no special case. "The
majority of children in the United States could benefit by some form
of orthodontic treatment", says Dr& Allan G& Brodie, professor
and head of the department of orthodontics at the University of
Illinois and a nationally recognized authority in his field.
What do parents need to know about those "years of the braces" in
order not to waste a child's time and their money? How can they
tell whether a child needs orthodontic treatment? Why and when should
tooth-straightening be undertaken? What is it likely to cost?

#TOOTH FIT EXPLAINED#

OCCLUSION is the dentist's expression

for the way teeth fit together when the jaws are closed. Malocclusion,
or a bad fit, is what parents need to look out for. One main type
of malocclusion is characterized by a receding chin and protruding upper
front teeth. A chin too prominent in relation to the rest of the
face, a thrusting forward of the lower front teeth, an overdeveloped lower
jawbone, and an underdeveloped upper jaw indicate the opposite type
of malocclusion. These two basic malformations have, of course,
many variations. A child probably requires some form of treatment
if he has any of the following conditions: _@_ A noticeable
protrusion of the upper or lower jaw. _@_ Crooked, overlapping,
twisted, or widely spaced teeth. _@_ Front teeth not meeting
when the back teeth close. _@_ Upper teeth completely covering
the lowers when the back teeth close. _@_ The eyeteeth (third from
the middle on top, counting each front tooth as the first) beginning
to protrude like fangs. _@_ Second teeth that have come in before
the first ones have fallen out, making a double row. Contrary
to the thinking of 30 to 40 years ago, when all malocclusion was
blamed on some unfortunate habit, recent studies show that most tooth
irregularity has at least its beginning in hereditary predisposition.
However, this does not mean that a child's teeth or jaws must
necessarily resemble those of someone in his family. Tooth deformity
may be the result of <excessive> thumb- or finger-sucking, tongue-thrusting,
or lip-sucking- but it's important to remember that
there's a difference between <normal> and <excessive> sucking
habits. It's perfectly normal for babies to suck their thumbs, and
no mother need worry if a child continues this habit until he is two
or three years old. Occasional sucking up to the fifth year may not affect
a youngster's teeth; but after that, if thumb-sucking pressure
is frequent, it will have an effect. Malocclusion can also
result if baby teeth are lost too soon or retained too long. If a child
loses a molar at the age of two, the adjoining teeth may shift toward
the empty space, thus narrowing the place intended for the permanent
ones and producing a jumble. If baby teeth are retained too long, the
incoming second teeth may be prevented from emerging at the normal
time or may have to erupt in the wrong place.

#CORRECTION CAN SAVE TEETH#

EVERY orthodontist sees children who are embarrassed by

their malformed teeth. Some such youngsters rarely smile, or they try
to speak with the mouth closed. In certain cases, as in Dick Stewart's,
a child's personality is affected. Yet from the dentist's
point of view, bad-fitting teeth should be corrected for physical reasons.

Bad alignment may result in early loss of teeth through

a breakdown of the bony structure that supports their roots. This serious
condition, popularly known as pyorrhea, is one of the chief causes
of tooth loss in adults. Then, too, misplaced or jammed-together
teeth are prone to trapping food particles, increasing the
likelihood of rapid decay. "For these and other reasons", says Dr&
Brodie, "orthodontics can prolong the life of teeth".

The failure of teeth to fit together when closed interferes with normal
chewing, so that a child may swallow food whole and put a burden
on his digestive system. Because of these chewing troubles, a child may
avoid certain foods he needs for adequate nutrition. Badly placed
teeth can also cause such a speech handicap as lisping.

#THE WHEN AND

HOW OF STRAIGHTENING#

"MOST orthodontic work is done on children

between the ages of 10 and 14, though there have been patients
as young as two and as old as 55", says Dr& Brodie. In
the period from 10 to 14 the permanent set of teeth is usually completed,
yet the continuing growth of bony tissue makes moving badly placed
teeth comparatively easy. Orthodontic work is possible because teeth
are held firmly but not rigidly, by a system of peridontal membrane with
an involved nerve network, to the bone in the jaw; they are not
anchored directly to the bone. Abnormal pressure, applied over a period
of time, produces a change in the bony deposit, so a tooth functions
normally in the new position into which it has been guided. What
can 10-year-old Susan expect when she enters the orthodontist's
office? On her first visit the orthodontist will take ~X rays,
photographs, tooth measurements, and "tooth prints"- an impression
of the mouth that permits him to study her teeth and jaws.
If he decides to proceed, he will custom-make for Susie an appliance
consisting of bands, plastic plates, fine wires, and tiny springs. This
appliance will exert a gentle and continuous or intermittent pressure
on the bone. As the tooth moves, bone cells on the pressure side
of it will dissolve, and new ones will form on the side from which the
tooth has moved. This must be done at the rate at which new bony tissue
grows, and no faster. "If teeth are moved too rapidly, serious
injury can be done to their roots as well as to the surrounding
bone holding them in place", explains Dr& Brodie. "Moving one
or two teeth can affect the whole system, and an ill-conceived plan
of treatment can disrupt the growth pattern of a child's face".

During the first few days of wearing the appliance and immediately
following each adjustment, Susan may have a slight discomfort or soreness,
but after a short time this will disappear. Parents are often
concerned that orthodontic appliances may cause teeth to decay. When
in place, a well-cemented band actually protects the part of the tooth
that is covered. Next Susie will enter the treatment stage
and visit the orthodontist once or twice a month, depending on the severity
of her condition. During these visits the dentist will adjust
the braces to increase the pressure on her teeth. Last comes the
<retention> stage. Susie's teeth have now been guided into a desirable
new position. But because teeth sometimes may drift back to
their original position, a retaining appliance is used to lock them in
place. Usually this is a thin band of wire attached to the molars and
stretching across the teeth. Susie may wear this only at night or for
a few hours during the day. Then comes the time when the last
wire is removed and Susie walks out a healthier and more attractive
girl than when she first went to the orthodontist. How long
will this take? Straightening one tooth that has come in wrong may
take only a few months. Aligning all the teeth may take a year or more.
An added complication such as a malformed jaw may take two or three
years to correct.

#WHAT IS THE COST?#

THE charge for a

complete full-banded job differs in various parts of the country. Work
that might cost $500 to $750 in the South could cost $750 to $1,200
in New York City or Chicago. An average national figure for two
to three years of treatment would be $650 to $1,000. "Factors
in the cost of treatment are the length of time involved and the skill
and education of the practitioner", says Dr& Brodie. To
become an orthodontist, a man must first be licensed by his state as
a dentist, then he must spend at least two years in additional training
to acquire a license as a specialist. "Costs may seem high,
but they used to be even higher", says Dr& Brodie. "Fees
are about half to a third of what they were 25 years ago". The
reason? People today are aware of the value of orthodontics, and
as a result there are more practitioners in the field. Most
orthodontists require an initial payment to cover the cost of diagnostic
materials and construction of the appliances, but usually the remainder
of the cost may be spread over a period of months or years. In many
cities in the United States clinics associated with dental schools
will take patients at a nominal fee. Some municipal agencies will
pay for orthodontic treatment for children of needy parents.

#RESEARCH
HELPS FAMILIES#

GROWTH studies have been carried on consistently

by orthodontists. Dr& Brodie has 30-year records of head growth,
started 20 minutes after children's births. "In the
past anyone who said that 90% of all malocclusion is hereditary was
scoffed at; now we know that family characteristics <do> affect tooth
formation to a large extent", he says. "Fortunately through our
growth studies we have been able to see what nature does, and that
helps us know what we can do". This knowledge both modifies
and dictates diagnosis and treatment. For example, a boy may inherit
a small jaw from one ancestor and large teeth from another. In the past
an orthodontist might have tried, over four or five years, to straighten
and fit the boy's large teeth into a jaw that, despite some growth,
would never accommodate them. Now a dentist can recommend extraction
immediately. In other cases, in view of present-day knowledge
of head growth, orthodontists will recommend waiting four or five
years before treatment. The child is kept on call, and the orthodontist
watches the growth. "Nature often takes care of the problem",
says Dr& Brodie. "A child with a certain type of head and teeth
will outgrow tooth deformity". That is why Dr& Brodie
asks parents not to insist, against their dentist's advice, that their
child have orthodontic work done too early. "Both because of our
culture's stress on beauty and our improved economic conditions,
some parents demand that the dentist try to correct a problem before it
is wise to do so. Let the orthodontist decide the proper time to start
treatment", he urges. Superior new material for orthodontic
work is another result of research. Plastics are easier to handle
than the vulcanized rubber formerly used, and they save time and money.
Plaster of Paris, once utilized in making impressions of teeth, has
been replaced by alginates (gelatin-like material) that work quickly
and accurately and with least discomfort to a child.

#PREVENTION IS
BEST#

AS a rule, the earlier general dental treatment is started,

the less expensive and more satisfactory it is likely to be.

"After your child's baby teeth are all in- usually at the age
of two and one half to three- it's time for that first dental appointment",
Dr& Brodie advises. "Then see that your youngster
has a routine checkup once a year". To help prevent orthodontic
problems from arising, your dentist can do these things: _@_
He can correct decay, thus preventing early loss of teeth. If
a child <does> lose his first teeth prematurely because of decay-
and if no preventive steps are taken- the other teeth may shift out
of position, become overcrowded and malformed. In turn the other teeth
are likely to decay because food particles may become impacted in them.
From time to time the medium mentions other people "around him",
who were "on the other side", and reports what they are saying. After
a while there come initials and names, and he is interested to hear
some rather unusual family nicknames. As the hour progresses, the
sensitive seems to probe more deeply and to make more personal and specific
statements. There are a few prognoses of coming events. ##

ANOTHER MEDIUM, another sitter, would produce a somewhat different

content, but in general it would probably sound much like the foregoing
reading. Some mediums speak in practical, down-to-earth terms, while
others may stress the spiritual. Not all, as a matter of fact, consider
themselves "mediums" in the sense of receiving messages from
the deceased. In fact, some sensitives rule this out, preferring to
consider their expression as strictly extra-sensory perception
(~ESP),
on this side of the "veil". However that may be, people are
known to go to mediums for diverse reasons. Perhaps they are mourning
a recent death and want comfort, to feel in touch with the deceased,
or seek indications for future plans. They may, of course, be curiosity
seekers- or they may just be interested in the phenomenon of mediumship.

The mediums with whom the Parapsychology Foundation

is working in this experiment are in a waking or only slightly dissociated
state, so that the sitter can make comments, ask and answer questions,
instead of talking with a "control" who speaks through an
entranced sensitive. What we have here is in some ways more like an ordinary
conversation. But it is not really only a conversation.
Many a sitter (in a personal sitting) has been amazed to realize that
the medium was describing very vividly his state of mind. He himself
might not have been really aware of his own mood; it had been latent,
unspecified, semi-conscious and only partly realized- until she
described it to him! Most striking indeed is this beyond-normal ability
to put a finger on "pre-conscious" moods and to clarify them.
However, in the next visit that the researcher made to the medium,
he did not receive a personal reading. Instead he brought with
him the names of some people he had never met and of whom the medium
knew nothing. For this was to be a "proxy sitting". ##

AS
WAS NOTED earlier, it is important that in valid, objective study of
this sort of communication, the interested sitter should be separated
from the sensitive. Dr& Karlis Osis, Director of Research at
the Parapsychology Foundation, described the basis for the experiment
in a TOMORROW article, ("New Research on Survival After
Death", Spring 1958). He remarked: "It has been clearly established
that in a number of instances the message did not come from a
spirit but was received telepathically by the medium from the sitter".

The possibility has to be ruled out that the medium's ~ESP

may tap the memory of the sitter, and to do this, the two central
characters in this drama must be separated. One way to do
this is by "proxy sittings", wherein the person seeking a message
does not himself meet with the medium but is represented by a substitute,
the proxy sitter. If the latter knows nothing about the absent sitter
except his name (given by the experimenter), he cannot possibly
give any clues, conscious or unconscious, far less ask leading questions.
All he can do is to be an objective and careful questioner, seeking
to help the sensitive in clarifying and making more specific her paranormal
impressions. Sometimes in these experiments "appointment
sittings" are used. Here the absent sitter makes a "date"
with a communicator (someone close to him who is deceased), asking him
to "come in" at a certain hour, when a channel will be open for
him. In this case the proxy sitter will know only the name of the communicator,
nothing else. He gives this to the medium at the appointed
time, and the reading then will be concerned with material about or messages
from the communicator. As always, a tape recording or detailed
notes are made, and a typescript of this is sent to the absent sitter.

So this proxy situation has set up at least a partial barrier

between the medium's ~ESP and the absent sitter's mind. It
is now harder to assume telepathy as a basis for the statements- though
research still does not know how far afield ~ESP <can> range.
##

NOW THE ORIGINAL absent sitter must decide whether the

statements are meaningful to <him>. Here again laboratory approaches
are being evolved, for it is recognized how "elastic" these readings
can be, how they can apply to many people, and are often stated
in general terms all too easily applied to any individual's own case.
If you look at a reading meant for someone else, you will probably
see that many of the items could be considered as applicable to you,
even when you were not in the picture at all! An interested sitter
may think the sensitive has made a "hit", describing something accurately
for him, but can he really be sure that another sitter, hearing
the same statement, would not apply it subjectively to his own circumstances?
It is, of course, easy to see how "~J" will mean
Uncle Jack to one person and little Jane to another. "A journey",
"a
little white house", "a change of outlook", can apply to many
people. And even more complex items can be interpreted to conform
to one's own point of view, which is by nature so personal. One sitter
may think "a leather couch" identifies a reading as surely directed
to him; to another, it seems that nobody but his father ever
used the phrase, "Atta boy"! To get around this quite difficult
corner, there is one first aid to objectiveness: prevent the
distant sitter from knowing which reading <was> for him. If he is
not told which of four or five readings was meant for him, he can more
readily assess each item in a larger frame: "Does that statement
really sound as if it were for me, significant in my particular life?
Or am I taking something that could really apply to almost anybody,
and forgetting that many other people probably have had a similar
experience"? Conversely, experimenters would consider as impressive
such statements as the following, which, if they turned out
to be hits, are so unusual as to be really significant: "He
had four children, two sets of twins. After being a lawyer for twenty-five
years he started studying for the ministry. Part of his house
had been moved to the other side of the road. He died of typhoid in
1921". Methods have been developed of assigning "weights"
to statements; that is, it is known empirically that names beginning
with ~R are more common than those beginning with ~Z; that
fewer women are named Miranda than Elizabeth; that in the United
States more people die of heart disease than of smallpox. So each reading
can be given a weight and each reading a score by adding up these
weights. Specific dates would be important, as would double names.
Various categories have been explored to find out about these "empirical
probabilities" against which to measure the readings. ##

IN
THE PARAPSYCHOLOGY FOUNDATION'S long-range experiment, readings
are made by a variety of sensitives for a large number of cooperating
sitters, trying to throw light on this question of the significance
of mediumistic statements. It is very important indeed, in the field
of extra-sensory perception and its relation to the survival hypothesis,
to know whether the statements are actually only those which any
intuitive person might venture and an eager sitter attach to himself.
Or, on the other hand, are unlikely facts being stated, facts which are
in themselves significant and <not> easily applicable to everybody?
That is one thing the experiments are designed to find out.

So, after the sitting has been held, several readings at one time
are mailed, and the distant sitter (whose name or whose communicator's
name was given to the medium) must mark each little item as Correct
(Hit), Incorrect (Miss), Doubtful, or Especially Significant (applying
to him and, he feels, not to anyone else). He is required to
mark every item and to indicate which reading he feels is actually his.
All these evaluations are then totted up and tabulated, by adding
up the Hits and Significants, with the weight placed on those in the
sitter's own reading. That is, if he marks as most correct a reading
<not> meant for him, the total experimental score falls. Conversely,
if he gives a heavy rating to his own reading, and finds more
accurate facts in it than in the others, a point is chalked up for
the intrinsic, objective meaningfulness of this type of mediumistic material.
And there are some positive results, though the final findings
will not be known for a long time- and then further research can
be formulated. In another approach to the same procedure, the
content of the readings is analyzed so as to see how the particular medium
is likely to slant her statements. Does she often speak of locations,
of cause of death? Does she accurately give dates, ages, kind
of occupation? It is possible to find out in which categories most
of her correct statements fall, and where she makes most of her "hits".
Now when, so to speak, the cream has been skimmed off, and the
items in the successful categories separated out, the sitter can be asked
to consider and rate only this concentrated "cream", where the
sensitive is at her best. ##

MEDIUMISTIC IMPRESSIONS are evidently

of all sorts and seem to involve all the senses. "I feel cold",
the medium says, or "My leg aches", "My head is heavy".
Or perhaps she hears words or sounds: "There's such a noise
of loud machinery", or "I hear a child crying", or "He says
we're all here and glad to see you". Maybe an entire scene comes
into consciousness, with action and motion, or a static view: "a
house under a pine tree, with a little stone path going up to the door".
The sensitive often seems to smell definite odors, too, or subjectively
feels emotions. Sometimes she displays amazing eidetic imagery
and seems to see all details in perspective, as if the scene were actually
there. If pressed by the sitter for more detail, she may be able
to bring the picture more into focus and see more sharply, almost
as if she were physically going closer. If asked how she gets
her impressions, she probably can only say that she "just gets them"-
some more vividly than others. Perhaps this is not so extraordinary
after all. Even in normal experience one gets impressions without
knowing exactly how- of atmosphere, of one another's personalities,
moods, intentions. Of course, there is an element of training
here: these gifted people, by concentration, study, guidance,
have
learned to develop their power. Simply <using> it increases its intensity,
I was told by one sensitive. Nor does a medium automatically
know how to interpret her imagery. Impressions often appear in
a symbolic form and cannot be taken at face value. It is apparently
by symbols that the unconscious speaks to the conscious, and the medium
has to translate these into meaning. If communication with an entity
on the "other side" is taking place, this too may assume the form
of clairvoyant symbolism. During one reading an image appeared
of a prisoner in irons. But this did not necessarily refer to an
actual jail; taken with other details it could have referred to a state
of mental or spiritual confinement. In this connection it is worth
noting how names are sometimes obtained. Though they are often heard
clairaudiently, as if a voice were speaking them, in other cases they
are apprehended visually as symbols: a slope to signify the name
"Hill", for instance. One medium saw two sheets flapping on a line
and found that the name Shietz was significant to the sitter.
_@_ Farming is confining. The farmer's life must be arranged
to meet the demands of crops and livestock. Livestock must be
tended every day, routinely. A slight change in the work schedule may
cut the production of cows or chickens. Even if there are no
livestock, the farmer cannot leave the farm for long periods, particularly
during the growing season. The worker who lives on a farm
cannot change jobs readily. He cannot leave the farm to take work
in another locality on short notice; such a move may mean a loss of
capital. _@_ Hard physical labor and undesirable hours are a part
of farm life. The farmer must get up early, and, at times, work late
at night. Frequently he must work long hours in the hot sun or cold
rain. No matter how well work is planned, bad weather or unexpected
setbacks can cause extra work that must be caught up. It may
not be profitable for a part-time farmer to own the labor-saving machinery
that a full-time farmer can invest in profitably. _@_ Production
may fall far below expectations. Drought, hail, disease, and insects
take their toll of crops. Sickness or loss of some of the livestock
may cut into the owner's earnings, even into his capital. _@_
Returns for money and labor invested may be small even in a good
year. The high cost of land, supplies, and labor make it difficult
to farm profitably on a part-time basis. Land within commuting
distance of a growing city is usually high in price, higher if it has
subdivision possibilities. Part-time farmers generally must pay higher
prices for supplies than full-time farmers because they buy in smaller
quantities. If the farm is in an industrial area where wages are high,
farm labor costs will also be high. A part-time farmer needs
unusual skill to get as high production per hen, per cow, or per acre
as can be obtained by a competent full-time farmer. It will frequently
be uneconomical for him to own the most up-to-date equipment. He
may have to depend upon custom service for specialized operations,
such as spraying or threshing, and for these, he may have to wait his
turn. There will be losses caused by emergencies that arise while he
is away at his off-farm job. _@_ The farm may be an additional
burden if the main job is lost. This may be true whether the farm is
owned or rented. If the farm is rented, the rent must be paid.
If it is owned, taxes must be paid, and if the place is not free
of mortgage, there will be interest and
payments on the principal to take care of. _ADVANTAGES_ _@_A
farm provides a wholesome and healthful environment for children.
It gives them room to play and plenty of fresh air. The children can
do chores adapted to their age and ability. Caring for a calf, a pig,
or some chickens develops in children a sense of responsibility for
work. _@_ Part-time farming gives a measure of security if the
regular job is lost, <provided> the farm is owned free of debt and furnishes
enough income to meet fixed expenses and minimum living costs.
_@_ For some retired persons, part-time farming is a good way
to supplement retirement income. It is particularly suitable for those
who need to work or exercise out of doors for their health. _@_
Generally, the s
ame level of living costs less in the country than
in the city. The savings are not as great, however, as is sometime supposed.
Usually, the cost of food and shelter will be somewhat less on
the farm and the cost of transportation and utilities somewhat more.
Where schools, fire and police protection, and similar municipal services
are of equal quality in city and country, real estate taxes are
usually about the same. _@_ A part-time farmer and his family can
use their spare time profitably. _@_ Some persons consider the
work on a farm recreational. For some white-collar workers it is a
welcome change from the regular job, and a physical conditioner.

#LAND,
LABOR, AND EQUIPMENT NEEDED#

Part-time farming can take comparatively

little land, labor, and equipment- or a great deal. It depends
on the kind and the scale of the farming operation. General
requirements for land, labor, and equipment are discussed below. Specific
requirements for each of various types of enterprises are discussed
on pages 8 to 14. _LAND_ Three quarters to 1 acre of good land
is enough for raising fruits and vegetables for home use, and for a
small flock of chickens, a cow, and two pigs. You could not, of course,
raise feed for the livestock on a plot this small. If you
want to
raise feed or carry out some enterprise on a larger scale, you'll
need more land. In deciding how much land you want, take into
account the amount you'll need to bring in the income you expect. But
consider also how much you and your family can keep up along with your
other work. The cost of land and the prospects for appreciation in
value may influence your decision. Some part-time farmers buy more
land than they need in anticipation of suburban development. This is
a highly speculative venture. Sometimes a desired acreage is offered
only as part of a larger tract. When surplus land is not expensive
to buy or to keep up, it is usually better to buy it than to buy
so small an acreage that the development of adjoining properties might
impair the residential value of the farm. _LABOR_ If you have a
year-round, full-time job you can't expect to grow much more than your
family uses- unless other members of the family do a good deal of
the work or you hire help. As a rule, part-time farmers hire little
help. In deciding on the enterprises to be managed by family labor,
compare the amount of labor that can be supplied by the family with
the labor needs of various enterprises listed in table 1. List
the number of hours the family can be expected to work each month.
You may want to include your own regular vacation period if you have
one. Do not include all your spare time or all your family's spare
time- only what you are willing to use for farm work. _EQUIPMENT_
If you are going to produce for home use only, you will need only
hand tools. You will probably want to hire someone to do the plowing,
however. For larger plantings, you'll need some kind of power
for plowing, harrowing, disking, and cultivating. If you have a planting
of half an acre or more you may want to buy a small garden tractor
(available for $300 to $500 with attachments, 1960 prices). These
tractors are not entirely satisfactory for plowing, particularly on heavier
soils, so you may still want to hire someone to do the plowing.

Cost of power and machinery is often a serious problem to the

small-scale farmer. If you are going to farm for extra cash income on
a part-time basis you must keep in mind the needed machinery investments
when you choose among farm enterprises. You can keep your
machinery investment down by buying good secondhand machinery, by sharing
the cost and upkeep of machinery with a neighbor, and by hiring
someone with machinery to do certain jobs. If an expensive and specialized
piece of machinery is needed- such as a spray rig, a combine,
or a binder- it is better to pay someone with a machine to do the work.

#SELECTING A FARM#

Before you look for a farm you'll need

to know (1) the kind and scale of farming you want to undertake; and
(2)
whether you want to buy or rent. Information on pages 8 to 14
may help you in deciding on the kind and scale of your farming venture.

If you are not well acquainted with the area in which you wish
to locate, or if you are not sure that you and your family will like
and make a success of farming, usually you would do better to rent
a place for a year or two before you buy. Discussed below are
some of the main things to look for when you select a part-time farm.
_LOCATION_ _NEARNESS TO WORK.-_ Choose a location within easy
commuting distance of both the regular job and other employment opportunities.
Then if you change jobs you won't necessarily have to sell
the farm. The presence of alternative job opportunities also will
make the place easier to sell if that should become desirable.
Obviously the farm should be on an all-weather road. _NEARNESS TO
MARKETS.-_ If you grow anything to sell you will need markets nearby.
If you plan to sell fresh vegetables or whole milk, for example,
you should be close to a town or city. _KIND OF NEIGHBORHOOD.-_
Look for a farm in a neighborhood of well-kept homes. There are slums
in the country as well as in the city. Few rural areas are protected
by zoning. A tavern, filling station, junk yard, rendering plant,
or some other business may go up near enough to hurt your home or to
hurt its value. _FACILITIES IN THE AREA.-_ Check on the schools
in the area, the quality of teaching, and the provision for transportation
to and from them. Find out whether fire protection, sewage
system, gas, water mains, and electrical lines are available in the
locality. If these facilities are not at the door, getting them may
cost more than you expect. You may have to provide them yourself or
get along without them. You cannot get along without an adequate
supply of pure water. If you are considering a part-time farm where
the water must be provided by a well, find out if there is a good well
on the farm or the probable cost of having one drilled. A pond may
provide adequate water for livestock and garden. Pond water can be filtered
for human use, but most part-time farmers would not want to go
to so much trouble. The following amounts of water are needed per day
for livestock and domestic uses. _TOPOGRAPHY AND SOIL_ Is the land
suited to the crops you intend to raise? If you can't tell, get
help from your county agricultural agent or other local specialist.
Soil type, drainage, or degree of slope can make the difference between
good crops and poor ones. Small areas that aren't right for a certain
crop may lie next to areas that are well suited to that crop. _THE
HOUSE_ Will the house on any part-time farm you are considering
make a satisfactory full-time residence? How much will it cost to
do any necessary modernizing and redecorating? If the house is not
wired adequately for electricity or if plumbing or a central heating
system must be installed, check into the cost of making these improvements.

#BUYING A FARM#

The value of the farm to you will depend

on- _@_ Its worth as a place to live. _@_ The value of
the products you can raise on it. _@_ The possibilities of selling
the property later on for suburban subdivision. Decide first
what the place is worth to you and your family as a home in comparison
with what it would cost to live in town. Take into account the difference
in city and county taxes, insurance rates, utility rates, and
the cost of travel to work. Next, estimate the value of possible
earnings of the farm. To do this, set up a plan on paper for operating
the farm. List the kind and quantity of things the farm can be
expected to produce in an average year. Estimate the value of the produce
at normal prices. The total is the probable gross income from farming.

To find estimated net farm income, subtract estimated

annual farming expenditures from probable gross income from farming. Include
as expenditures an allowance for depreciation of farm buildings
and equipment. Also count as an expense a charge for the labor to be
contributed by the family. It may be hard to decide what this labor
is worth, but charge something for it. Otherwise, you may pay too much
for the farm and get nothing for your labor. To figure the
value of the farm in terms of investment income, divide the estimated
annual net farm income by the percentage that you could expect to get
in interest if the money were invested in some other way.
Everyone with a personal or group tragedy to relate had to be given his
day in court as in some vast collective dirge. For almost two months,
the defendant and the world heard from individuals escaped from the
grave about fathers and mothers, graybeards, adolescents, babies, starved,
beaten to death, strangled, machine-gunned, gassed, burned. One
who had been a boy in Auschwitz had to tell how children had been selected
by height for the gas chambers. The gruesome humor of the Nazis
was not forgotten- the gas chamber with a sign on it with the name
of a Jewish foundation and bearing a copper Star of David- nor
the gratuitous sadism of ~SS officers. Public relations strategists
everywhere, watching the reaction of the German press, the liberal
press, the lunatic-fringe press, listening to their neighbors, studying
interviews with men and women on the street, cried out: Too much,
too much- the mind of the audience is becoming dulled, the horrors
are losing their effect. And still another witness, one who had crawled
out from under a heap of corpses, had to tell how the victims had
been forced to lay themselves head to foot one on top of the other before
being shot. **h Most of this testimony may have been legally
admissible as bearing on the <corpus delicti> of the total Nazi
crime but seemed subject to question when not tied to the part in it
of the defendant's Department of Jewish Affairs. Counsel for the
defense, however, shrewdly allowing himself to be swept by the current
of dreadful recollections, rarely raised an objection. Would not the
emotional catharsis eventually brought on by this awfulness have a calming,
if not exhausting, effect likely to improve his client's chances?
Those who feared "emotionalism" at the Trial showed less
understanding than Dr& Servatius of the route by which man achieves
the distance necessary for fairness toward enemies. Interruptions
came
largely from the bench, which numerous times rebuked the Attorney
General for letting his witnesses run on, though it, too, made no serious
effort to choke off the flow. But there was a contrast even
more decisive than a hunger for fact between the Trial in Jerusalem
and those in Moscow and New York. In each of the last, the trial
<marked the beginning of a new course:> in Moscow the liquidation
of the Old Bolsheviks and the tightening of Stalin's dictatorship;
in the United States the initiation of militant anti-Communism,
with the repentant ex-Communist in the vanguard. These trials were
properly termed "political cases" in that the trial itself was
a political act producing political consequences. But what could the
Eichmann Trial initiate? Of what new course could it mark the beginning?
The Eichmann case looked to the past, not to the future.
It was the conclusion of the first phase of a process of tragic recollection,
and of refining the recollection, that will last as long as there
are Jews. As such, it was beyond politics and had no need of justification
by a "message". ##

"IT IS NOT AN individual

that is in the dock at this historical trial"- said Ben Gurion,
"and not the Nazi regime alone- but anti-Semitism throughout
history". How could supplying Eichmann with a platform on which to
maintain that one could collaborate in the murder of millions of Jews
<without being an anti-Semite> contribute to a verdict against anti-Semitism?
And if it was not an individual who was in the dock, why
was the Trial, as we shall observe later, all but scuttled in the
attempt to prove Eichmann a "fiend"? These questions touch the
root of confusion in the prosecution's case. It might be contended,
of course, that Eichmann in stubbornly denying anti-Semitic
feelings was lying or insisting on a private definition of anti-Semitism.
But in either event he was the wrong man for the kind of case outlined
by Ben Gurion and set forth in the indictment. In such a case
the defendant should serve as a clear example and not have to be tied
to the issue by argument. One who could be linked to anti-Semitism
only by overcoming his objections is scarcely a good specimen of the
Jew-baiter throughout the ages. Shout at Eichmann though he might,
the Prosecutor could not establish that the defendant was falsifying
the way he felt about Jews or that what he did feel fell into the generally
recognized category of anti-Semitism. Yes, he believed that the
Jews were "enemies of the Reich", and such a belief is, of course,
typical of "patriotic" anti-Semites; but he believed in the
Jew-as-enemy in a kind of abstract, theological way, like a member
of a cult speculating on the nature of things. The real question was
how one passed from anti-Semitism of this sort to murder, and the answer
to this question is not to be found in anti-Semitism itself. In
regard to Eichmann,
it was to be found in the Nazi outlook, which contained
a principle separate from and far worse than anti-Semitism, a
principle by which the poison of anti-Semitism itself was made more virulent.
Perhaps under the guidance of this Nazi principle one could,
as Eichmann declared, feel personally friendly toward the
Jews and still be their murderer. Not through fear of disobeying orders,
as Eichmann kept trying to explain, but through a peculiar giddiness
that began in a half-acceptance of the vicious absurdities contained
in the Nazi interpretation of history and grew with each of Hitler's
victories into a permanent light-mindedness and sense of magical
rightness that was able to respond to any proposal, and the more outrageous
the better, "Well, let's try it". At any rate, the substance
of Eichmann's testimony was that all his actions flowed from
his membership in the party and the ~SS, and though the Prosecutor
did his utmost to prove actual personal hatred of Jews, his success
on this score was doubtful and the anti-Semitic lesson weakened to
that extent. ##

BUT IF THE Trial did not expose the special

Nazi mania so deadly to Jews as well as to anyone upon whom it happened
to light, neither did it warn very effectively against the ordinary
anti-Semitism of which the Nazis made such effective use in Germany
and wherever else they could find it. If anti-Semitism was on trial
in Jerusalem, why was it not identified, and with enough emphasis
to capture the notice of the world press, in its connection with the
activities of Eichmann's Department of Jewish Affairs, as exemplified
by the betrayal and murder of Jews by non-police and non-party anti-Semites
in Germany, as well as in Poland, Czechoslovakia, Hungary?
The infamous Wansee Conference called by Heydrich in January
1942, to organize the material and technical means to put to death
the eleven million Jews spread throughout the nations of Europe, was
attended by representatives of major organs of the German state, including
the Reich Minister of the Interior, the State Secretary in
charge of the Four Year Plan, the Reich Minister of Justice, the
Under Secretary of Foreign Affairs. The measures for annihilation
proposed and accepted at the Conference affected industry, transportation,
civilian agencies of government. Heydrich, in opening the Conference,
followed the reasoning and even the phraseology of the order
issued earlier by Goering which authorized the Final Solution as
" a complement to" previous "solutions" for eliminating the Jews
from German living space through violence, economic strangulation,
forced emigration, and evacuation. In other words, the promulgators
of the murder plan made clear that physically exterminating the Jews
was but an extension of the anti-Semitic measures already operating
in every phase of German life, and that the new conspiracy counted on
the general anti-Semitism that had made those measures effective, as
a readiness for murder. This, in fact, it turned out to be. Since
the magnitude of the plan made secrecy impossible, once the wheels had
began to turn, persons controlling German industries, social institutions,
and armed forces became, through their anti-Semitism or their
tolerance of it, conscious accomplices of Hitler's crimes; whether
in the last degree or a lesser one was a matter to be determined individually.

What more could be asked for a Trial intended to warn

the world against anti-Semitism than this opportunity to expose the
exact link between the respectable anti-Semite and the concentration-camp
brute? Not in Eichmann's anti-Semitism but in the anti-Semitism
of the sober German man of affairs lay the potential warning
of the Trial. No doubt many of the citizens of the Third Reich had
conceived their anti-Semitism as an "innocent" dislike of Jews,
as do others like them today. The Final Solution proved that the
Jew-baiter of any variety exposes himself as being implicated in the
criminality and madness of others. Ought not an edifying Trial have
made every effort to demonstrate this once and for all by showing how
representative types of "mere" anti-Semites were drawn step by
step into the program of skull-bashings and gassings? The Prosecutor
in his opening remarks did refer to "the germ of anti-Semitism"
among the Germans which Hitler "stimulated and transformed". But
if there was evidence at the Trial that aimed over Eichmann's
head
at his collaborators in the societies where he functioned, the press
seems to have missed it. ##

NOR DID THE Trial devote much

attention to exposing the usefulness of anti-Semitism to the Nazis,
both in building their own power and in destroying that of rival organizations
and states. Certainly, one of the best ways of warning the
world against anti-Semitism is to demonstrate its workings as a dangerous
weapon. Eichmann himself is a model of how the myth of the enemy-Jew
can be used to transform the ordinary man of present-day society
into a menace to <all> his neighbors. Do patriots everywhere know
enough about how the persecution of the Jews in Germany and later in
the occupied countries contributed to terrorizing the populations, splitting
apart individuals and groups, arousing the meanest and most dishonest
impulses, pulverizing trust and personal dignity, and finally
forcing people to follow their masters into the abyss by making them
partners in unspeakable crimes? The career of Eichmann made the Trial
a potential showcase for anti-Semitic demoralization: fearful
of being mistaken for a Jew, he seeks protection in his Nazi uniform;
clinging to the enemy-Jew idea, he is forced to overcome habits of
politeness and neighborliness; once in power he begins to give vent
to a criminal opportunism that causes him to alternate between megalomania
and envy of those above him. "Is this the type of citizen you
desire"? the Trial should have asked the nations. But though this
characterization in no way diminished Eichmann's guilt, the Prosecutor,
more deeply involved in the tactics of a criminal case than a
political one, would have none of it. Finally, if the mission
of the Trial was to convict anti-Semitism, how could it have failed
to post before the world the contrasting fates of the countries in which
the Final Solution was aided by native Jew-haters- i&e&,
Germany, Poland, Hungary, Czechoslovakia- and those in which it
met the obstacle of human solidarity- Denmark, Holland, Italy, Bulgaria,
France? Should not everyone have been awakened to it as an
outstanding fact of our time that the nations poisoned by anti-Semitism
proved less fortunate in regard to their own freedom than those whose
citizens saved their Jewish compatriots from the transports? Wasn't
this meaning of Eichmann's experience in various countries
worth highlighting?
##

AS THE FIRST collective confrontation

of the Nazi outrage, the Trial of Eichmann represents a recovery
of the Jews from the shock of the death camps, a recovery that took fifteen
years and which is still by no means complete (though let no one
believe that it could be hastened by silence). Only across a distance
of time could the epic accounting begin. It is already difficult to
recall how little we knew before the Trial of what had been done to
the Jews of Europe. It is not that the facts of the persecution were
unavailable; most of the information elicited in Jerusalem had
been brought to the surface by the numerous War Crimes tribunals and
investigating commissions, and by reports, memoirs, and survivors'
accounts.
IN POUGHKEEPSIE, N& Y&, in 1952, a Roman Catholic hospital
presented seven Protestant physicians with an ultimatum to quit the
Planned Parenthood Federation or to resign from the hospital staff.
Three agreed, but four declined and were suspended. After a flood of
protests, they were reinstated at the beginning of 1953. The peace
of the community
was badly disturbed, and people across the nation, reading of the
incident, felt uneasy. In New York City in 1958, the city's
Commissioner of Hospitals refused to permit a physician to provide
a Protestant mother with a contraceptive device. He thereby precipitated
a bitter controversy involving Protestants, Jews and Roman
Catholics that continued for two months, until the city's Board
of Hospitals lifted the ban on birth-control therapy. A year
later in Albany, N& Y&, a Roman Catholic hospital barred an
orthopedic surgeon because of his connection with the Planned Parenthood
Association. Immediately, the religious groups of the city were
embroiled in an angry dispute over the alleged invasion of a man's
right to freedom of religious belief and conscience. These incidents,
typical of many others, dramatize the distressing fact that no
controversy during the last several decades has caused more tension,
rancor and strife among religious groups in this country than the birth-control
issue. It has flared up periodically on the front pages of
newspapers in communities divided over birth-prevention regulations in
municipal hospitals and health and family-welfare agencies. It has erupted
on the national level in the matter of including birth-control
information and material in foreign aid to underdeveloped countries. Where
it is not actually erupting, it rumbles and smolders in sullen resentment
like a volcano, ready to explode at any moment. The
time has come for citizens of all faiths to unite in an effort to remove
this divisive and nettlesome issue from the political and social life
of our nation. The first step toward the goal is the establishment
of a new atmosphere of mutual good will and friendly communication
on other than the polemical level. Instead of emotional recrimination,
loaded phrases and sloganeering, we need a dispassionate study
of the facts, a better understanding of the opposite viewpoint and a more
serious effort to extend the areas of agreement until a solution is
reached. "All too frequently", points out James O'Gara,
managing editor of <Commonweal>, "Catholics run roughshod over
Protestant sensibilities in this matter, by failure to consider the
reasoning behind the Protestant position and, particularly, by their
jibes at the fact that Protestant opinion on birth control has changed
in recent decades". All too often our language is unduly
harsh.
The second step is to recognize the substantial agreement-
frequently blurred by emotionalism and inaccurate newspaper reporting-
already existing between Catholics and non-Catholics concerning the
over-all objectives of family planning. Instead of Catholics' being
obliged or even encouraged to beget the greatest possible number
of offspring, as many non-Catholics imagine, the ideal of <responsible>
parenthood is stressed. Family planning is encouraged, so that parents
will be able to provide properly for their offspring. Pope
Pius /12, declared in 1951 that it is possible to be exempt from
the normal obligation of parenthood for a long time and even for the
whole duration of married life, if there are serious reasons, such as
those often mentioned in the so-called medical, eugenic, economic and
social "indications". This means that such factors as the health
of the parents, particularly the mother, their ability to provide their
children with the necessities of life, the degree of population density
of a country and the shortage of housing facilities may legitimately
be taken into consideration in determining the number of offspring.

These are substantially the same factors considered by non-Catholics

in family planning. The laws of many states permit birth control
only for medical reasons. The Roman Catholic Church, however,
sanctions a much more liberal policy on family planning. Catholics,
Protestants and Jews are in agreement over the objectives of
family planning, but disagree over the methods to be used. The Roman
Catholic Church sanctions only abstention or the rhythm method, also
known as the use of the infertile or safe period. The Church considers
this to be the method provided by nature and its divine Author:
It involves no frustration of nature's laws, but simply an intelligent
and disciplined use of them. With the exception of the Roman
Catholic and the Orthodox Catholic Churches, most churches make no
moral distinction between rhythm and mechanical or chemical contraceptives,
allowing the couple free choice. Here is a difference in
theological belief where there seems little chance of agreement. The
grounds for the Church's position are Scriptural (Old Testament),
the teachings of the fathers and doctors of the early Church, the
unbroken tradition of nineteen centuries, the decisions of the highest
ecclesiastical authority and the natural law. The latter plays a prominent
role in Roman Catholic theology and is considered decisive,
entirely apart from Scripture, in determining the ethical character of
birth-prevention methods. The Roman Catholic natural-law tradition
regards as self-evident that the primary objective purpose of
the conjugal act is procreation and that the fostering of the mutual
love of the spouses is the secondary and subjective end. This conclusion
is based on two propositions: that man by the use of his reason
can ascertain God's purpose in the universe and that God makes known
His purpose by certain "given" physical arrangements. Thus,
man can readily deduce that the primary objective end of the conjugal
act is procreation, the propagation of the race. Moreover, man
may not supplant or frustrate the physical arrangements established by
God, who through the law of rhythm has provided a natural method for
the control of conception. Believing that God is the Author of this
law and of all laws of nature, Roman Catholics believe that they are
obliged to obey those laws, not frustrate or mock them. Let
it be granted then that the theological differences in this area between
Protestants and Roman Catholics appear to be irreconcilable. But
people differ in their religious beliefs on scores of doctrines, without
taking up arms against those who disagree with them. Why is it
so different in regard to birth control? It is because each side has
sought to <implement> its distinctive theological belief through legislation
and thus indirectly <force> its belief, or at least the practical
consequences thereof, upon others. It is always a temptation
for a religious organization, especially a powerful or dominant
one, to impose through the clenched fist of the law its creedal viewpoint
upon others. Both Roman Catholics and Protestants have succumbed
to this temptation in the past. Consider what happened during
World War /1,, when the Protestant churches united to push the
Prohibition law through Congress. Many of them sincerely believe
that the use of liquor in any form or in any degree is intrinsically
evil and sinful. With over four million American men away at war, Protestants
forced their distinctive theological belief upon the general
public. With the return of our soldiers, it soon became apparent that
the belief was not shared by the great majority of citizens. The attempt
to enforce that belief ushered in a reign of bootleggers, racketeers,
hijackers and gangsters that led to a breakdown of law unparalleled
in our history. The so-called "noble experiment" came to an
inglorious end. That tumultuous, painful and costly experience
shows clearly that a law expressing a moral judgment cannot be enforced
when it has little correspondence with the general view of society.
That experience holds a lesson for us all in regard to birth control
today. Up to the turn of the century, contraception was condemned
by <all> Christian churches as immoral, unnatural and contrary
to divine law. This was generally reflected in the civil laws of Christian
countries. Today, the Roman Catholic and Orthodox Churches
stand virtually alone in holding that conviction. The various Lambeth
Conferences, expressing the Anglican viewpoint, mirror the gradual
change that has taken place among Protestants generally.
In 1920, the Lambeth Conference repeated its 1908 condemnation of contraception
and issued "an emphatic warning against the use of unnatural
means for the avoidance of conception, together with the grave dangers-
physical, moral, and religious- thereby incurred, and against
the evils which the extension of such use threaten the race". Denouncing
the view that the sexual union is an end in itself, the Conference
declared: "We steadfastly uphold what must always be regarded
as the governing considerations of Christian marriage. One is the
primary purpose for which marriage exists, namely, the continuance
of the race through the gift and heritage of children; the other is
the paramount importance in married life of deliberate and thoughtful
self-control". The Conference called for a vigorous campaign against
the open or secret sale of contraceptives. In 1930, the Lambeth
Conference again affirmed the primary purpose of marriage to be
the procreation of children, but conceded that, in certain limited circumstances,
contraception might be morally legitimate. In 1958,
the Conference endorsed birth control as the responsibility laid by
God on parents everywhere. Many other Protestant denominations
preceded the Anglicans in such action. In March, 1931, 22 out
of 28 members of a committee of the Federal Council of Churches ratified
artificial methods of birth control. "As to the necessity",
the committee declared, "for some form of effective control of the
size of the family and the spacing of children, and consequently of control
of conception, there can be no question **h. There is general agreement
also that sex union between husbands and wives as an expression
of mutual affection <without> relation to procreation is right".

Since then, many Protestant denominations have made separate

pronouncements, in which they not only approved birth control, but declared
it at times to be a <religious duty>. What determines the morality,
they state, is not the <means> used, but the <motive>. In
general, the means (excluding abortion) that prove most effective are
considered the most ethical. This development is reflected in
the action taken in February, 1961, by the general board of the
National
Council of Churches, the largest Protestant organization in the
~US. The board approved and commended the use of birth-control
devices as a part of Christian responsibility in family planning. It
called for opposition to laws and institutional practices restricting
the information or availability of contraceptives. The general
board declared: "Most of the Protestant churches hold contraception
and periodic continence to be morally right when the motives are
right **h. The general Protestant conviction is that motives, rather
than methods, form the primary moral issue, provided the methods are
limited to the prevention of conception". An action once universally
condemned by all Christian churches and forbidden by the civil
law is now not only approved by the overwhelming majority of Protestant
denominations, but also deemed, at certain times, to be a positive
<religious duty>. This viewpoint has now been translated into
action by the majority of people in this country. Repeated polls have
disclosed that most married couples are now using contraceptives in the
practice of birth control. For all concerned with social-welfare
legislation, the significance of this radical and revolutionary
change in the thought and habits of the vast majority of the American
people is clear, profound and far-reaching. To try to oppose the general
religious and moral conviction of such a majority by a legislative
fiat would be to invite the same breakdown of law and order that was
occasioned by the ill-starred Prohibition experiment. This brings
us to the fact that the realities we are dealing with lie not in
the field of civil legislation, but in the realm of conscience and religion:
They are moral judgments and matters of theological belief.
Conscience and religion are concerned with private <sin:> The civil
law is concerned with public <crimes>. Only confusion, failure
and anarchy result when the effort is made to impose upon the civil authority
the impossible task of policing private homes to preclude the
possibility of sin. Among the chief victims of such an ill-conceived
imposition would be religion itself.
##

On April 17, 1610, the sturdy little three-masted bark, <Discovery>,

weighed anchor in St& Katherine's Pool, London, and
floated down the Thames toward the sea. She carried, besides her captain,
a crew of twenty-one and provisions for a voyage of exploration
of the Arctic waters of North America. Seventeen months later,
on September 6, 1611, an Irish fishing boat sighted the <Discovery>
limping eastward outside Galway Bay. When she reached port,
she was found to have on board only eight men, all near starvation. The
captain was gone, and the mate was gone. The man who now commanded
her had started the voyage as an ordinary seaman. What disaster
struck the <Discovery> during those seventeen months? What happened
to the fourteen missing men? These questions have remained
one of the great sea mysteries of all time. For hundreds of years, the
evidence available consisted of (1) the captain's fragmentary journal,
(2) a highly prejudiced account by one of the survivors, (3) a note
found in a dead man's desk on board, and (4) several second-hand
reports. All told, they offered a highly confused picture. But
since 1927, researchers digging into ancient court records and legal
files have been able to find illuminating pieces of information. Not
enough to do away with all doubts, but sufficient to give a fairly accurate
picture of the events of the voyage. Historians have had
two reasons for persisting so long in their investigations. First,
they wanted to clarify a tantalizing, bizarre enigma. Second, they believed
it important to determine the fate of the captain- a man whose
name is permanently stamped on our maps, on American towns and counties,
on a great American river, and on half a million square miles
of Arctic seas. The name: <Henry Hudson>. This
is the story of his last tragic voyage, as nearly as we are able- or
ever, probably, will be able- to determine: The sailing in
the spring of 1610 was Hudson's fourth in four years. Each time
his objective had been the same- a direct water passage from Western
Europe to the Far East. In 1607 and 1608, the English Muscovy
Company had sent him northward to look for a route over the North Pole
or across the top of Russia. Twice he had failed, and the Muscovy
Company indicated it would not back him again. In 1609, the
Dutch East India Company hired Hudson, gave him two learned geographers,
fitted him out with a ship called the <Half Moon>, and supplied
him with Dutch sailors. This time he turned westward, to the
middle Atlantic coast of North America. His chief discovery was important-
the Great North (later, the Hudson) River- but it produced
no northwest passage. ##

When the <Half Moon> put in at

Dartmouth, England, in the fall of 1609, word of Hudson's findings
leaked out, and English interest in him revived. The government
forbade Hudson to return to Amsterdam with his ship. He thereupon went
to London and spent the winter talking to men of wealth. By springtime,
he was supported by a rich merchant syndicate under the patronage
of Henry, Prince of Wales. He had obtained and provisioned a veteran
ship called the <Discovery> and had recruited a crew of twenty-one,
the largest he had ever commanded. The purpose of this
fourth voyage was clear. A century of exploration had established that
a great land mass, North and South America, lay between Europe
and
the Indies. One by one, the openings in the coast that promised a
passage through had been explored and discarded. In fact, Hudson's
sail up the Great North River had disposed of one of the last hopes.

But there remained one mysterious, unexplored gap, far to

the north. Nearly twenty-five years before, Captain John Davis had
noted, as he sailed near the Arctic Circle, "a very great gulf, the
water whirling and roaring, as it were the meeting of tides". He
named this opening, between Baffin Island and Labrador, the "Furious
Overfall". (Later, it was to be called Hudson Strait.)

In 1602, George Waymouth, in the same little <Discovery> that

Hudson now commanded, had sailed 300 miles up the strait before his
frightened men turned the ship back. Hudson now proposed to sail all
the
way through and test the seas beyond for the long-sought waterway.

Even Hudson, experienced in Arctic sailing and determined as he

was, must have had qualms as he slid down the Thames. Ahead were perilous,
ice-filled waters. On previous voyages, it had been in precisely
such dangerous situations that he had failed as a leader and captain.
On the second voyage, he had turned back at the frozen island of
Novaya Zemlya and meekly given the crew a certificate stating that
he did so of his own free will- which was obviously not the case. On
the third voyage, a near-mutiny rising from a quarrel between Dutch
and English crew members on the <Half Moon> had almost forced him
to head the ship back to Amsterdam in mid-Atlantic. Worse,
his present crew included five men who had sailed with him before. Of
only one could he be sure- young John Hudson, his second son. The
mate, Robert Juet, who had kept the journal on the <half Moon>,
was experienced- but he was a bitter old man, ready to complain or
desert at any opportunity. Philip Staffe, the ship's carpenter, was
a good worker, but perversely independent. Arnold Lodley and Michael
Perse were like the rest- lukewarm, ready to swing against Hudson
in a crisis. But men willing to sail at all into waters where
wooden ships could be crushed like eggs were hard to find. Hudson
knew he had to use these men as long as he remained an explorer. And
he refused to be anything else. It is believed that Hudson
was related to other seafaring men of the Muscovy Company and was
trained
on company ships. He was a Londoner, married, with three sons.
(The common misconception that he was Dutch and that his first name
was Hendrik stem from Dutch documents of his third voyage.) In 1610,
Hudson was probably in his early forties, a good navigator, a stubborn
voyager, but otherwise fatally unsuited to his chosen profession.
##

Hudson's first error of the fourth voyage occurred only a

few miles down the Thames. There at the river's edge waited one Henry
Greene, whom Hudson listed as a "clerk". Greene was in actuality
a young ruffian from Kent, who had broken with his parents in
order to keep the company he preferred- pimps, panders and whores.
He was not the sort of sailor Hudson wanted his backers to see on board
and he had Greene wait at Gravesend, where the <Discovery> picked
him up. For the first three weeks, the ship skirted up the
east coast of Great Britain, then turned westward. On May 11, she
reached Iceland. Poor winds and fog locked her up in a harbor the
crew called "Lousie Bay". The subsequent two-weeks wait made the
crew quarrelsome. With Hudson looking on, his protege Greene picked
a fight with the ship's surgeon, Edward Wilson. The issue was
settled on shore, Greene winning and Wilson remaining ashore, determined
to catch the next fishing boat back to England. With difficulty,
Hudson persuaded him to rejoin the ship, and they sailed from Iceland.
##

Early in June, the <Discovery> passed "Desolation"

(southern Greenland) and in mid-June entered the "Furious Overfall".
Floating ice bore down from the north and west. Fog hung
over the route constantly. Turbulent tides rose as much as fifty feet.
The ship's compass was useless because of the nearness of the magnetic
North Pole. As the bergs grew larger, Hudson was
forced to turn south into what is now Ungava Bay, an inlet of the
great strait. After finding that its coasts led nowhere, however, he
turned north again, toward the main, ice-filled passageway- and the
crew, at first uneasy, then frightened, rebelled. The trouble
was at least partly Juet's doing. For weeks he had been saying that
Hudson's idea of sailing through to Java was absurd. The great,
crushing ice masses coming into view made him sound like the voice
of pure reason. A group of sailors announced to Hudson that they would
sail no farther. Instead of quelling the dissension, as many
captains of the era would have done (Sir Francis Drake lopped a man's
head off under similar circumstances), Hudson decided to be reasonable.
He went to his cabin and emerged carrying a large chart, which
he set up in view of the crew. Patiently, he explained what he knew
about their course and their objectives. When Hudson had finished,
the "town meeting" broke down into a general, wordy
argument.
One man remarked that if he had a hundred pounds, he would give ninety
of them to be back in England. Up spoke carpenter Staffe, who
said he wouldn't give <ten> pounds to be home. The statement was
effective. The meeting broke up. Hudson was free to sail on. ##

All through July the <Discovery> picked her way along the 450-mile-long
strait, avoiding ice and rocky islands. On August 3, two massive
headlands reared out of the mists- great gateways never before,
so far as Hudson knew, seen by Europeans. To starboard was a cape
a thousand feet high, patched with ice and snow, populated by thousands
of screaming sea birds. To port was a point 200 feet high rising behind
to a precipice of 2,000 feet. Hudson named the capes Digges and
Wolstenholme, for two of his backers. Hudson pointed the <Discovery>
down the east coast of the newly discovered sea (now called
Hudson Bay), confident he was on his way to the warm waters of the
Pacific. After three weeks' swift sailing, however, the ship entered
an area of shallow marshes and river deltas. The ship halted. The
great "sea to the westwards" was a dead end. This must have
been Hudson's blackest discovery. For he seemed to sense at once
that before him was no South Sea, but the solid bulk of the North
American continent. This was the bitter end, and Hudson seemed to
know he was destined to failure. Feverishly, he tried to brush
away this intuition. North and south, east and west, back and forth
he sailed in the land-locked bay, plowing furiously forward until land
appeared, then turning to repeat the process, day after day, week after
week. Hundreds of miles to the north, the route back to England
through the "Furious Overfall" was again filling with ice.

The men were at first puzzled, then angered by the aimless tacking.
Once more, Juet's complaints were the loudest. Hudson's reply
was to accuse the mate of disloyalty. Juet demanded that Hudson prove
his charges in an open trial. The trial was held September
10. Hudson, presiding, heard Juet's defense, then called for testimony
from crew members. Juet had made plentiful enemies, several men
stepped forward. Hands on Bible, seaman Lodley and carpenter Staffe
swore that Juet had tried to persuade them to keep muskets and swords
in their cabins. Cook Bennett Mathues said Juet had predicted
bloodshed on the ship. Others added that Juet had wanted to turn the
ship homeward. Hudson deposed Juet and cut his pay. The new
mate was Robert Bylot, talented but inexperienced. There were other
shifts and pay cuts according to the way individuals had conducted themselves.
The important result, however, was that Juet and Francis
Clemens, the deposed boatswain, became Hudson's sworn enemies.

As Hudson resumed his desperate criss-crossing of the little

bay, every incident lessened the crew's respect for him. Once,
after the <Discovery> lay for a week in rough weather, Hudson ordered
the anchor raised before the sea had calmed. Just as it was being
hauled inboard, a sea hit the ship. Michael Butt and Adame Moore
were thrown off the capstan and badly injured. The anchor cable would
have been lost overboard, but Philip Staffe was on hand to sever
it with his axe.

Thomas Douglas, fifth Earl of Selkirk, a noble humanitarian

Scot concerned with the plight of the crofters of his native Highlands,
conceived a plan to settle them in the valley of the Red River
of the North. Since the land he desired lay within the great northern
empire of the Hudson's Bay Company, he purchased great blocks of
the Comany's stock with the view to controlling its policies. Having
achieved this end, he was able to buy 116,000 square miles in the
valleys of the Red and Assiniboine rivers. The grant, which stretched
southward to Lake Traverse- the headwaters of the Red- was
made in May, 1811, and by October of that year a small group of Scots
was settling for the winter at York Factory on Hudson Bay. Thus
at the same time that William Henry Harrison was preparing to pacify
the aborigines of Indiana Territory and winning fame at the battle
of Tippecanoe, Anglo-Saxon settlement made a great leap into the
center of the North American continent to the west of the American
agricultural frontier. Seven hundred miles south of York Factory,
at "the Forks" of the Red and the Assiniboine, twenty-three
men located a settlement in August 1812. By October the little
colony about Fort Douglas (present-day Winnipeg) numbered 100. Within
a few years the Scots, engaged in breaking the thick sod and stirring
the rich soil of the valley, were joined by a group called <Meurons>.
The latter, members of two regiments of Swiss mercenaries transported
by Great Britain to Canada to fight the Americans in the
War of 1812, had settled in Montreal and Kingston at the close of
the war in 1815. Selkirk persuaded eighty men and four officers to go
to Red River where they were to serve as a military force to protect
his settlers from the hostile Northwest Company which resented the
intrusion of farmers into the fur traders' empire. The mercenaries
were little interested in farming and added nothing to the output of
the farm plots on which all work was still done with hoes as late as
1818. It was the low yield of the Selkirk plots and the ravages
of grasshoppers in 1818 that led to the dispersal of the settlement
southward. When late in the summer the full extent of the damage was
assessed, all but fifty of the Scots, Swiss and <metis> moved up
the Red to the mouth of the Pembina river. Here they built huts and
a stockade named Fort Daer after Selkirk's barony in Scotland.
The new site was somewhat warmer than Fort Douglas and much closer
to the great herds of buffalo on which the settlement must depend for
food. The Selkirk settlers had been anticipated in their move
southward by British fur traders. For many years the Northwest Company
had its southern headquarters at Prairie du Chien on the Mississippi
River, some 300 miles southeast of present-day St& Paul,
Minnesota. When in 1816 an act of Congress forced the foreign firm
out of the United States, its British-born employees, now become American
citizens- Joseph Rolette, Joseph Renville and Alexis Bailly-
continued in the fur business. On Big Stone Lake near the
headwaters of the Red River, Robert Dickson, Superintendent of
the Western Indian Department of Canada, had a trading post and planned
in 1818 to build a fort to be defended by twenty men and two small
artillery pieces. His trading goods came from Canada to the Forks
of Red River and from Selkirk's settlement he brought them south
in carts. These carts were of a type devised in Pembina in the days
of Alexander Henry the Younger about a decade before the Selkirk
colony was begun. In 1802 Henry referred to "our new carts" as
being about four feet off the ground and carrying five times as much as
a horse could pack. They were held together by pegs and withes and
in later times drawn by a single ox in thills. It was Dickson
who suggested to Lord Selkirk that he return to the Atlantic coast
by way of the United States. In September 1817 at Fort Daer (Pembina)
Dickson met the noble lord whom, with the help of a band of Sioux,
he escorted to Prairie du Chien. During the trip Selkirk decided
that the route through Illinois territory to Indiana and the eastern
United States was the best route for goods from England to reach
Red River and that the United States was a better source of supply
for many goods than either Canada or England. Upon arriving at
Baltimore, Selkirk on December 22 wrote to John Quincy Adams,
Secretary of State at Washington, inquiring about laws covering trade
with "Missouri and Illinois Territories". This traffic, he
declared prophetically, "tho' it might be of small account at first,
would increase with the progress of our Settlements **h".
The route which he had traveled and which he believed might develop
into a trade route was followed by his settlers earlier than he might
have expected. In 1819 grasshoppers again destroyed the crop at "the
Forks" (Fort Douglas) and in December 1819, twenty men left Fort
Daer for the most northerly American outpost at Prairie du Chien.
It was a three-month journey in the dead of winter followed by three
months of labor on Mackinac boats. With these completed and ice
gone from the St& Peter's River (present-day Minnesota river)
their 250 bushels of wheat, 100 bushels of oats and barley and 30 bushels
of peas and some chickens were loaded onto the flat-bottomed boats
and rowed up the river to Big Stone Lake, across into Lake Traverse,
and down the Red. They reached Fort Douglas in June 1820. This
epic effort to secure seed for the colony cost Selkirk @1,040.
Nevertheless so short was the supply of seed that the settlers were
forced to retreat to Fort Daer for food. Thereafter seed and food became
more plentiful and the colony remained in the north the year round.

Activity by British traders and the presence of a colony

on the Red prompted the United State War Department in 1819 to send
Lieutenant-Colonel Henry Leavenworth from Detroit to put a post
300 miles northwest of Prairie du Chien, until then the most advanced
United States post. In September 1822 two companies of infantry
arrived at the mouth of the St& Peter's River, the head of navigation
on the Mississippi, and began construction of Fort St&
Anthony which, upon completion, was renamed in honor of its commander,
Colonel Josiah Snelling. It was from the American outposts
that Red River shortages of livestock were to be made good. Hercules
L& Dousman, fur trader and merchant at Prairie du Chien, contracted
to supply Selkirk's people with some 300 head of cattle, and
Alexis Bailly and Francois Labothe were hired as drovers. Bailly,
after leaving Fort Snelling in August 1821, was forced to leave
some of the cattle at the Hudson's Bay Company's post on Lake
Traverse "in the Sieux Country" and reached Fort Garry, as the
Selkirk Hudson's Bay Company center was now called, late in the
fall. He set out on his 700-mile return journey with five families
of discontented and disappointed Swiss who turned their eyes toward
the United States. Observing their distressing condition, Colonel
Snelling allowed these half-starved immigrants to settle on the military
reservation. As these Swiss were moving from the Selkirk
settlement to become the first civilian residents of Minnesota, Dousman
of Michilimackinac, Michigan, and Prairie du Chien was traveling
to Red River to open a trade in merchandise. Early in 1822 he was
at Fort Garry offering to bring in pork, flour, liquor and tobacco.
Alexander McDonnell, governor of Red River, and James Bird,
a chief factor of the Hudson's Bay Company, ordered such "sundry
articles" to a value of @4,500. For its part the Hudson's
Bay Company was troubled by the approach of American settlement.
As the time drew near for the drawing of the British-American frontier
by terms of the agreement of 1818, the company suspected that the
Pembina colony- its own post and Fort Daer- was on American
territory. Accordingly Selkirk's agents ordered the settlers to move
north, and by October, John Halkett had torn down both posts, floating
the timber to "the Forks" in rafts. "I have done everything",
he wrote, "to break up the whole of that unfortunate establishment
**h". Despite Company threats, duly carried through, to cut
off supplies of powder, ball, and thread for fishing nets, about 350
persons stayed in the village. They would attempt to bring supplies
from St& Louis or Prairie du Chien at "great expense as well
as danger". At Fort Garry some of the Swiss also decided
to cast their lot with the United States, and in 1823 several families
paid guides to take them to Fort Snelling. The disasters of 1825-1826
caused more to leave. After heavy rains and an onslaught of mice,
snow fell on October 15, 1825, and remained on the ground through
a winter so cold that the ice on the Red was five feet thick. In April
came a rapid thaw that produced high waters which did not recede until
mid-June. On June 24 more than 400 families started the three-month
trip across the plains to the Mississippi. By fall, 443 survivors
of this arduous journey were clustered about Fort Snelling, but
most of them were sent on to Galena and St& Louis, with a few going
as far as Vevay, Indiana, a notable Swiss center in the United
States. In 1837, 157 Red River people with more than 200 cattle were
living on the reservation at Fort Snelling. Below the fort,
high bluffs extended uninterruptedly for six miles along the Mississippi
River. At the point where they ended, another settlement grew
up around a chapel built at the boat landing by Father Lucian Galtier
in 1840. Its people, including Pierre Bottineau and other American
Fur Company employees and the refugees from Fort Garry, were
joined by the remaining Scots and Swiss from Fort Snelling when Major
Joseph Plympton expelled them from the reservation in May 1840.
The resultant town, platted in 1847 and named for the patron of Father
Galtier's mission, St& Paul, was to become an important center
of the fur trade and was to take on a new interest for those Selkirkers
who remained at Red River. While population at Fort
Garry increased rapidly, from 2,417 in 1831 to 4,369 in 1840, economic
opportunities did not increase at a similar rate. Accordingly, though
the practice violated the no-trading provision of the Selkirk charter
which reserved all such activity in merchandise and furs to the
Hudson's Bay Company, some settlers went into trade. The Company
maintained a store at which products of England could be purchased
and brought in goods for the new merchants on the understanding that they
refrain from trading in furs. Despite this prohibiton, by 1844 some
of the Fort Garry merchants were trading with the Indians for furs.
In June 1845, the Governor and Council of Assiniboia imposed
a 20 per cent duty on imports via Hudson's Bay which were viewed
as aimed at the "very vitals of the Company's trade and power".
To reduce further the flow of goods from England, the Company's
local officials asked that its London authorities refrain from forwarding
any more trade goods to these men. With their customary source
of supply cut off, the Fort Garry free traders engaged three men
to cart goods to them from the Mississippi country. Others carried
pemmican from "the Forks" to St& Paul and goods from St&
Paul to Red River, as in the summer of 1847 when one trader, Wells,
transported twenty barrels of whisky to the British settlement. This
trade was subject to a tariff of 7.5 per cent after February 1835,
but much was smuggled into Assiniboia with the result that the duty
was reduced by 1841 to 4 per cent on the initiative of the London committee.

The trade in a few commodities noted above was to grow

in volume as a result of changes both north and south of the 49th parallel.
The letters of the common soldiers are rich in humor. Indeed, no richer
humor is to be found in the whole of American literature than in
the letters of the semi-literate men who wore the blue and the gray. Some
of their figures of speech were colorful and expressive. A Confederate
observed that the Yankees were: "thicker than lise on a hen
and a dam site ornraier". Another reported that his comrades were
"in fine spirits pitching around like a blind dog in a meat house".
A third wrote that it was "raining like poring peas on a rawhide".

Yanks were equally adept at figurative expression. One

wrote: "[I am so hungry] I could eat a rider off his horse +
snap at the stirups". A second reported that the dilapidated houses
in Virginia "look like the latter end of original sin and hard times".
A third remarked of slowness of Southerners: "They moved
about from corner to corner, as uneasy as a litter of hungry leaches
on the neck of a wooden god". Still another, annoyed by the brevity
of a recently received missive, wrote: "Yore letter was short and
sweet, jist like a roasted maget". A Yankee sergeant gave the following
description of his sweetheart: "My girl is none of your one-horse
girls. She is a regular stub and twister, double geered. **h
She is well-educated and refined, all wildcat and fur, and Union from
the muzzle to the crupper". Humor found many modes of expression.
A Texan wrote to a male companion at home: "What has become
of Halda and Laura? **h When you see them again give them my
love- not best respects now, but love by God". William R& Stillwell,
an admirable Georgian whose delightful correspondence is preserved
in the Georgia Department of Archives and History, liked
to
tease his wife in his letters. After he had been away from home about
a year he wrote: "[Dear Wife] If I did not write and receive
letters from you I believe that I would forgit that I was married
I don't feel much like a maryed man but I never forgit it sofar
as to court enny other lady but if I should you must forgive me as
I am
so forgitful". A Yank, disturbed by his increasing corpulence, wrote:
"I am growing so fat **h I am a burden 2 myself". Another
Yank parodied the familiar bedtime prayer: "Now I lay me down
to sleep, The gray-backs o'er my body creep; If they should bite
before I wake, I pray the Lord their jaws to break"".
Charles
Thiot, a splendid Georgia soldier, differed from most of his
comrades in the ranks in that he was the owner of a large plantation,
well-educated, and nearly fifty years of age. But he was very much like
his associates in his hatred of camp routine. Near the end of his
service he wrote that when the war was over he was going to buy two pups,
name one of them "fall-in" and the other "close-up", and
then shoot them both, "and that will be the end of 'fall-in' and
'close-up'". The soldiers who comprised the rank and file
of the Civil War armies were an earthy people. They talked and
wrote much about the elemental functions of the body. One of the most
common of camp maladies was diarrhoea. Men of more delicate sensibilities
referred to this condition as "looseness of the bowels"; but
a much more common designation was "the sh-ts". A Michigan soldier
stationed in Georgia wrote in 1864: "I expect to be tough
as a knott as soon as I get over the Georgia Shitts". Johnny Rebs
from the deep South who were plagued with diarrhoea after transfer
to the Virginia front often informed their families that they were suffering
from the "the Virginia quickstep". A Georgia soldier
gave his wife the following description of the cause and consequence
of diarrhoea: "I have bin a little sick with diorah two or three
days **h. I eat too much eggs and poark it sowered [on] my stomack
and turn loose on me". A Michigan soldier wrote his brother:
"I am well at present with the exception I have got the Dyerear
and I hope thease few lines find you the same". The letters
which poured forth from camps were usually written under adverse circumstances.
Save for brief periods in garrison or winter quarters, soldiers
rarely enjoyed the luxury of a writing desk or table. Most of
the letters were written in the hubbub of camp, on stumps, pieces of
bark, drum heads, or the knee. In the South, after the first year of
the war, paper and ink were very poor. Scarcity of paper caused many
Southerners to adopt the practice of cross-writing, i&e&, after writing
from left to right of the page in the usual manner, they gave the
sheet a half turn and wrote from end to end across the lines previously
written. Sometimes soldiers wrote letters while bullets were whizzing
about their heads. A Yank writing from Vicksburg, May 28, 1863,
stated "Not less than 50 balls have passed over me since I commenced
writing **h. I could tell you of plenty narrow escapes, but we
take no notice of them now". A Reb stationed near Petersburg informed
his mother: "I need not tell you that I dodge pretty often
**h for you can see that very plainly by the blots in this letter. Just
count each blot a dodge and add in a few for I don't dodge every
time". Another Reb writing under similar circumstances before Atlanta
reported: "The Yankees keep Shooting so I am afraid they
will knock over my ink, so I will close". #/3,#

The most
common type of letter was that of soldier husbands to their wives. But
fathers often addressed communications to their small children; and
these, full of homely advice, are among the most human and revealing
of Civil War letters. Rebs who owned slaves occasionally would include
in their letters admonitions or greetings to members of the Negro
community. Occasionally they would write to the slaves. Early in the
war it was not uncommon for planters' sons to retain in camp Negro
"body servants" to perform the menial chores such as cooking, foraging,
cleaning the quarters, shining shoes, and laundering clothes.
Sometimes these servants wrote or dictated for enclosure with the letters
of their soldier-masters messages to their relatives and to members
of their owners' families. Unmarried soldiers carried on
correspondence with sweethearts at home. Owing to the restrained usages
characteristic of 19th-century America, these letters usually were
stereotyped and revealed little depth of feeling. Occasionally
gay young blades would write vividly to boon companions at home about
their amorous exploits in Richmond, Petersburg, Washington, or
Nashville. But these comments are hardly printable. An Alabama soldier
whose
feminine associations were of the more admirable type wrote boastfully
of his achievements among the Virginia belles: "They thout
I was a saint. I told them some sweet lies and they believed it
all **h I would tell them I got a letter from home stating that five
of my Negroes had runaway and ten of Pappies But I wold say I
recond he did not mind it for he had a plenty more left and then they
would lean to me like a sore eyd kitten to a basin of milk".
Some of the letters were pungently expressive. An Ohio soldier who,
from a comrade just returned from leave, received an unfavorable comment
on the conduct of his sister, took pen in hand and delivered himself
thus: "[Dear Sis] Alf sed he heard that you and hardy was
a runing together all the time and he though he wod gust quit having
any thing mor to doo with you for he thought it was no more yuse **h.
I think you made a dam good chouise to turn off as nise a feler as Alf
dyer and let that orney thefin, drunkard, damed card playing Sun
of a bich com to Sea you, the god damed theaf and lop yeard pigen tode
helion, he is too orney for hel **h. i will Shute him as shore as
i Sea him". Initiation into combat sometimes elicited from
soldier correspondents choice comments about their experiences and reactions.
A Federal infantryman wrote to his father shortly after his
first skirmish in Virginia: "Dear Pa **h. Went out a Skouting
yesterday. We got to one house where there were five secessionist they
brok + run and Arch holored out to shoot the ornery suns of biches
and we all let go at them. Thay may say what they please but godamit
Pa it is fun". Some of the choicest remarks made by soldiers
in their letters were in disparagement of unpopular officers. A Mississippi
soldier wrote: "Our General Reub Davis **h is a vain,
stuck-up, illiterate ass". An Alabamian wrote: "Col& Henry
is [an ignoramus] fit for nothing higher than the cultivation
of corn". A Floridian stated that his officers were "not fit to
tote guts to a bear". On December 9, 1862, Sergeant Edwin H&
Fay, an unusual Louisianan who held A&B& and M&A& degrees
from Harvard University and who before the war was headmaster of a
private school for boys in Louisiana, wrote his wife: "I saw Pemberton
and he is the most insignificant puke I ever saw **h. His head
cannot contain enough sense to command a regiment, much less a corps
**h. Jackson **h runs first and his Cavalry are well drilled to follow
their leader. He is not worth shucks. But he is a West Point
graduate and therefore must be born to command". Similar comments
about officers are to be found in the letters of Northern soldiers.
A Massachusetts soldier, who seems to have been a Civil War
version of Bill Mauldin, wrote: "The officers consider themselves
as made of a different material from the low fellows in the ranks
**h. They get all the glory and most of the pay and don't earn ten
cents apiece on the average, the drunken rascals". Private George
Gray Hunter of Pennsylvania wrote: "I am well convinced in My
own Mind that had it not been for officers this war would have ended
long ago". Another Yankee became so disgusted as to state: "I
wish to God one half of our officers were knocked in the head by slinging
them against [the other half]". No group of officers
came in for more spirited denunciation than the doctors. One Federal
soldier wrote: "The docters is no a conte **h hell will be filde
with do[c]ters and offersey when this war is over". Shortly after
the beginning of Sherman's Georgia campaign, an ailing Yank
wrote his homefolk: "The surgeon insisted on Sending me to the hospital
for treatment. I insisted on takeing the field and prevailed-
thinking that I had better die by rebel bullets than [by] Union
quackery". The attitudes which the Rebs and Yanks took toward
each other were very much the same and ranged over the same gamut
of feeling, from friendliness to extreme hatred. The Rebs were, to
a Massachusetts corporal, "fighting madmen or not men at all but whiskey
+ gunpowder put into a human frame". A Pennsylvania soldier
wrote that "they were the hardest looking set of men that Ever i saw
they Looked as if they had been fed on vinegar and shavings **h".
Private Jenkins Lloyd Jones of the Wisconsin Light Artillery wrote
in his diary: "I strolled among the Alabamans on the right
**h found some of the greenest specimens of humanity I think in the universe
their ignorance being little less than the slave they despise
with as imperfect a dialect 'They Recooned as how you'uns all would
be a heap wus to we'uns all'". In a similar vein, but writing
from the opposite side, Thomas Taylor, a private in the 6th Alabama
Volunteers, in a letter to his wife, stated: "You know that
my heart is with you but I never could have been satisfied to have staid
at home when my country is invaded by a thievin foe By a set of
cowardly Skunks whose Motto is Booty **h.
THE POPULARITY OF FOLKLORE IN AMERICA STANDS IN DIRECT PROPORTION
to the popularity of nationalism in America. And the emphasis on nationalism
in America is in proportion to the growth of American influence
across the world. Thus, if we are to observe American folklore
in the twentieth century, we will do well to establish the relationships
between folklore, nationalism and imperialism at the outset.

Historians have come to recognize two cardinal facts concerning nationalism

and international influence. 1) Every age rewrites the events
of its history in terms of what should have been, creating legends
about itself that rationalize contemporary beliefs and excuse contemporary
actions. What actually occurred in the past is seldom as important
as what a given generation feels must have occurred. 2) As a country
superimposes its cultural and political attitudes on others, it searches
its heritage in hopes of justifying its aggressiveness. Its folklore
and legend, usually disguised as history, are allowed to account
for group actions, to provide a focal point for group loyalty, and to
become a cohesive force for national identification. One can apply
these facts to Britain in the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries
as she spread her dominion over palm and pine, and they can be
applied again to the United States in more recent years. The popularity
of local color literature before the Spanish-American War, the
steady currency of the Lincoln myth, the increased emphasis on the
frontier west in our mass media are cases in point. Nor is it an accident
that baseball, growing into the national game in the last 75 years,
has become a microcosm of American life, that learned societies such
as the American Folklore Society and the American Historical
Association were founded in the 1880s, or that courses in American literature,
American civilization, American anything have swept our school
and college curricula. Of course, nationalism has really
outlived its usefulness in a country as world-oriented as ours, and its
continued existence reflects one of the major culture lags of the
twentieth-century
United States. Yet nationalism has lost few of its
charms for the historian, writer or man in the street. It is an understandable
paradox that most American history and most American literature
is today written from an essentially egocentric and isolationistic
point of view at the very time America is spreading her dominion
over palm and pine. After all, the average American as he lies and
waits for the enemy in Korea or as she scans the newspaper in some vain
hope of personal contact with the front is unconcerned that his or
her plight is the result of a complex of personal, economic and governmental
actions far beyond the normal citizen's comprehension and control.
Anyone's identification with an international struggle, whether
warlike or peaceful, requires absurd oversimplification and intense
emotional involvement. Such identification comes for each group in each
crisis by rewriting history into legend and developing appropriate
national heroes. In America, such self-deception has served
a particularly useful purpose. A heterogeneous people have needed it
to attain an element of cultural and political cohesion in a new and
ever-changing
land. But we must never forget, most of the appropriate
heroes and their legends were created overnight, to answer immediate needs,
almost always with conscious aims and ends. Parson Weems's George
Washington became the symbol of honesty and the father image of
the uniting States. Abraham Lincoln emerged as an incarnation of
the national Constitution. Robert E& Lee represented the dignity
needed by a rebelling confederacy. And their roles are paralleled by
those of Patrick Henry, Nathan Hale, Andrew Jackson, Davy Crockett,
Theodore Roosevelt and many, many more. Therefore, the
scholar, as he looks at our national folklore of the last 60 years,
will be mindful of two facts. 1) Most of the legends that are created
to fan the fires of patriotism are essentially propagandistic and are
not folk legends at all. 2) The concept that an "American national
folklore" exists is itself probably another propagandistic legend.

Folklore is individually created art that a homogeneous group

of people preserve, vary and recreate through oral transmission. It
has come to mean myths, legends, tales, songs, proverbs, riddles, superstitions,
rhymes and such literary forms of expression. Related to
written literature, and often remaining temporarily frozen in written
form, it loses its vitality when transcribed or removed from its oral
existence. Though it may exist in either literate or illiterate societies,
it assumes a role of true cultural importance only in the latter.

In its propagandistic and commercial haste to discover our

folk heritage, the public has remained ignorant of definitions such as
this. Enthusiastically, Americans have swept subliterary and bogus
materials like Paul Bunyan tales, Abe Lincoln anecdotes and labor
union songs up as true products of our American oral tradition. Nor
have we remembered that in the melting pot of America the hundreds of
isolated and semi-isolated ethnic, regional and occupational groups did
not fuse into a homogeneous national unit until long after education
and industrialization
had caused them to cast oral tradition aside as
a means of carrying culturally significant material. Naturally,
such scholarly facts are of little concern to the man trying to make
money or fan patriotism by means of folklore. That much of what he
calls folklore is the result of beliefs carefully sown among the people
with the conscious aim of producing a desired mass emotional reaction
to a particular situation or set of situations is irrelevant. As long
as his material is Americana, can in some way be ascribed to the masses
and appears "democratic" to his audience, he remains satisfied.

From all this we can now see that two streams of development
run through the history of twentieth-century American folklore. On
the one side we have the university professors and their students, trained
in Teutonic methods of research, who have sought out, collected
and studied the true products of the oral traditions of the ethnic,
regional and occupational groups that make up this nation. On the other
we have the flag-wavers and the national sentimentalists who have been
willing to use any patriotic, "frontier western" or colonial material
willy-nilly. Unfortunately, few of the artists (writers, movie
producers, dramatists and musicians) who have used American folklore
since 1900 have known enough to distinguish between the two streams
even in the most general of ways. After all, the field is large, difficult
to define and seldom taught properly to American undergraduates.
In addition, this country has been settled by many peoples of many
heritages and their lore has become acculturated slowly, in an age of
print and easy communication, within an ever-expanding and changing society.
The problems confuse even the experts. For that matter,
the experts themselves are a mixed breed. Anthropologists, housewives,
historians and such by profession, they approach their discipline
as amateurs, collectors, commercial propagandists, analysts or some combination
of the four. They have widely varying backgrounds and aims.
They have little "esprit de corps". The outlook for the
amateur, for instance, is usually dependent on his fondness for local
history or for the picturesque. His love of folklore has romanticism
in it, and he doesn't care much about the dollar-sign or the footnote.
Folklore is his hobby, and he, all too rightly, wishes it to remain
as such. The amateur is closely related to the collector, who is
actually no more than the amateur who has taken to the field. The collector
enjoys the contact with rural life; he hunts folklore for the
very "field and stream" reasons that many persons hunt game; and
only rarely is he acutely concerned with the meaning of what he has
located. Fundamentally, both these types, the amateur and the collector,
are uncritical and many of them don't distinguish well between
real folklore and bogus material. But there are also the commercial
propagandists and the analysts- one dominated by money, the other
by nineteenth-century German scholarship. Both are primarily concerned
with the uses that can be made of the material that the collector
has found. Both shudder at the thought of proceeding too far beyond
the sewage system and the electric light lines. The commercial propagandist,
who can't afford to be critical, gets along well with the
amateur, from whom he feeds, but he frequently steps on the analyst's
toes by refusing to keep his material genuine. His standards are,
of course, completely foreign to those of the analyst. To both the amateur
and the commercial progandist the analyst lacks a soul, lacks appreciation
with his endless probings and classifications. Dominated by
the vicious circle of the university promotion system, the analyst looks
down on and gets along poorly with the other three groups, although
he cannot deny his debt to the collector. The knowledge that
most Americans have of folklore comes through contact with commercial
propagandists and a few energetic amateurs and collectors. The work
done by the analysts, the men who really know what folklore is all about,
has no more appeal than any other work of a truly scientific sort
and reaches a limited, learned audience. Publishers want books that
will sell, recording studios want discs that will not seem strange to
ears used to hillbilly and jazz music, grade and high schools want quaint,
but moral, material. The analyst is apt to be too honest to fit
in. As a result, most people don't have more than a vague idea what
folklore actually is; they see it as a potpourri of charming, moral
legends and patriotic anecdotes, with a superstition or remedy thrown
in here and there. And so well is such ignorance preserved by the amateur
and the money-maker that even at the college level most of the
hundred-odd folklore courses given in the United States survive on sentiment
and nationalism alone. If one wishes to discuss a literary
figure who uses folklore in his work, the first thing he must realize
is that the literary figure is probably part of this ignorant American
public. And while every writer must be dealt with as a special
case, the interested student will want to ask himself a number of questions
about each. Does the writer know the difference between an "ersatz"
ballad or tall tale and a true product of the folk? When
the writer uses material does he tamper with it to improve its commercial
effect or does he leave it pure? Is the writer propagandistic?
Is he swept away by sentiment and nostalgia for an America that was?
Or does he sincerely want to tap the real springs of American
attitude and culture regardless of how unpopular and embarrassing they
may be? When he gets the answers to his questions he will be
discouraged. In the first place, a good many writers who are said to
use folklore, do not, unless one counts an occasional superstition or
tale. Robert Frost, for instance, writes about rural life in New England,
but he does not include any significant amount of folklore in
his poems. This has not, however, prevented publishers from labeling
him a "folk poet", simply because he is a rural one. In the second
place, a large number of writers, making a more direct claim than Frost
to being "folk writers" of one sort or another, clearly make
no distinctions between genuine and bogus material. Stephen Vincent
Benet's <John Brown's Body> comes immediately to mind in this
connection, as does John Steinbeck's <The Grapes of Wrath>
and Carl Sandburg's <The People, Yes>. The last two writers
introduce strong political bias into their works, and not unlike the union
leaders that we will discuss soon, see folklore as a reservoir of
protest by a downtrodden and publically silenced mass. Folklore, as
used by such writers, really reflects images engraved into it by the very
person using it. The folk are simply not homogeneous with respect
to nation or political attitude. In fact, there is much evidence to
indicate they don't care a bit about anything beyond their particular
regional, ethnic and occupational limits. Nevertheless, with a reading
public that longs for the "good old days" and with an awareness
of our expanding international interests, it is easy for the Benets
to obtain a magnified position in literature by use of all sorts of
Americana, real or fake, and it is easy for the Steinbecks and Sandburgs
to support their messages of reform by reading messages of reform
into the minds of the folk.
As part of the same arrangement, Torrio had, in the spirit of peace
and good will, and in exchange for armed support in the April election
campaign, bestowed upon O'Banion a third share in the Hawthorne
Smoke Shop proceeds and a cut in the Cicero beer trade. The coalition
was to prove inadvisable. O'Banion was a complex and frightening
man, whose bright blue eyes stared with a kind of frozen candour
into others'. He had a round, frank Irish face, creased in a
jovial grin that stayed bleakly in place even when he was pumping bullets
into someone's body. He carried three guns- one in the right
trouser pocket, one under his left armpit, one in the left outside coat
pocket- and was equally lethal with both hands. He killed accurately,
freely, and dispassionately. The police credited him with twenty-five
murders but he was never brought to trial for one of them.
Like a fair number of bootleggers he disliked alcohol. He was an expert
florist, tenderly dextrous in the arrangement of bouquets and wreaths.
He had no apparent comprehension of morality; he divided humanity
into "right guys" and "wrong guys", and the wrong ones he
was always willing to kill and trample under. He had what was described
by a psychologist as a "sunny brutality". He walked with a heavy
list to the right, as that leg was four inches shorter than the other,
but the lurch did not reduce his feline quickness with his guns. Landesco
thought him "just a superior sort of plugugly" but he was,
in fact, with his aggression and hostility, and nerveless indifference
to risking or administering pain, a casebook psychopath. He was also
at this time, although not so interwoven in high politics and the rackets
as Torrio and Capone, the most powerful and most dangerous mob
leader in the Chicago underworld, the roughneck king. O'Banion
was born in poverty, the son of an immigrant Irish plasterer,
in the North Side's Little Hell, close by the Sicilian quarter
and Death Corner. He had been a choir boy at the Holy Name Cathedral
and also served as an acolyte to Father O'Brien. The influence
of Mass was less pervasive than that of the congested, slum tenements
among the bawdy houses, honkytonks, and sawdust saloons of his birthplace;
he ran wild with the child gangs of the neighbourhood, and
went through the normal pressure-cooker course of thieving, police-dodging,
and housebreaking. At the age of ten, when he was working as
a newsboy in the Loop, he was knocked down by a streetcar which resulted
in his permanently shortened leg. Because of this he was known as
Gimpy (but, as with Capone and his nickname of Scarface, never in
his presence). In his teens O'Banion was enrolled in the vicious
Market Street gang and he became a singing waiter in McGovern's
Cafe, a notoriously low and rowdy dive in North Clark Street, where
befuddled customers were methodically looted of their money by the singing
waiters before being thrown out. He then got a job with the Chicago
<Herald-Examiner> as a circulation slugger, a rough fighter
employed to see that his paper's news pitches were not trespassed upon
by rival vendors. He was also at the same time gaining practical
experience as a safe breaker and highwayman, and learning how to shoot
to kill from a Neanderthal convicted murderer named Gene Geary, later
committed to Chester Asylum as a homicidal maniac, but whose eyes
misted with tears when the young Dion sang a ballad about an Irish
mother in his clear and syrupy tenor. O'Banion's first conflict
with the police came in 1909, at seventeen, when he was committed
to Bridewell Prison for three months for burglary; two years
later he served another three months for assault. Those were his only
interludes behind bars, although he collected four more charges on his
police record in 1921 and 1922, three for burglary and one for robbery.
But by now O'Banion's political pull was beginning to be effective.
On the occasion of his 1922 indictment the $10,000 bond was
furnished by an alderman, and the charge was <nolle prossed>. On one
of his 1921 ventures he was actually come upon by a Detective Sergeant
John J& Ryan down on his knees with a tool embedded in a labour
office safe in the Postal Telegraph Building; the jury wanted
better evidence than that and he was acquitted, at a cost of $30,000
in bribes, it was estimated. As promptly as Torrio, O'Banion jumped
into bootlegging. He conducted it with less diplomacy and more spontaneous
violence than the Sicilians, but he had his huge North Side
portion to exploit and he made a great deal of money. Unlike the
Sicilians, he additionally conducted holdups, robberies, and safe-cracking
expeditions, and refused to touch prostitution. He was also personally
active in ward politics, and by 1924 O'Banion had acquired
sufficient political might to be able to state: "I always deliver
my borough as per requirements". But whose requirements?
Until 1924 O'Banion pistoleers and knuckle-duster bullyboys had
kept his North Side domain solidly Democratic. There was a question-and-answer
gag that went around at that time: Q& "Who'll
carry the Forty-second and Forty-third wards"? A& "O'Banion,
in his pistol pocket". But as November 1924 drew close the Democratic
hierarchy
was sorely troubled by grapevine reports that O'Banion
was being wooed by the opposition, and was meeting and conferring
with important Republicans. To forestall any change of allegiance,
the Democrats hastily organised a testimonial banquet for O'Banion,
as public reward for his past services and as a reminder of where
his loyalties lay. The reception was held in a private dining
room of the Webster Hotel on Lincoln Park West. It was an interesting
fraternisation of ex-convicts, union racketeers, ward heelers,
sold-out officials, and gunmen. The guest list is in itself a little
parable of the state of American civic life at this time. It included
the top O'Banion men and Chief of Detectives Michael Hughes.

When Mayor Dever heard of the banquet he summoned Hughes

for an explanation of why he had been dishonouring the police department
by consorting with these felons and fixers. Hughes said that he had
understood the party was to be in honour of Jerry O'Connor, the
proprieter of a Loop gambling house. "But when I arrived and recognised
a number of notorious characters I had thrown into the detective
bureau basement half a dozen times, I knew I had been framed, and
withdrew almost at once". In fact, O'Connor was honoured
during the ceremony with the presentation of a $2500 diamond stickpin.
There was a brief interruption while one of O'Banion's men
jerked out both his guns and threatened to shoot a waiter who was pestering
him for a tip. Then O'Banion was presented with a platinum
watch set with rubies and diamonds. This dinner was the start
of a new blatancy in the relationship between the gangs and the politicians,
which, prior to 1924, says Pasley, "had been maintained with
more or less stealth", but which henceforth was marked by these ostentatious
gatherings, denounced by a clergyman as "Belshazzar feasts",
at which "politicians fraternized cheek by jowl with gangsters,
openly, in the big downtown hotels". Pasley continued: "They
became an institution of the Chicago scene and marked the way to the
moral and financial collapse of the municipal and county governments
in 1928-29". However, this inaugural feast did its sponsors
no good whatever. O'Banion accepted his platinum watch and the tributes
to his loyalty, and proceeded with the bigger and better Republican
deal. On Election Day- November 4- he energetically marshalled
his force of bludgeon men, bribers, and experts in forging repeat
votes. The result was a landslide for the Republican candidates.

This further demonstration of O'Banion's ballooning power

did not please Torrio and Capone. In the past year there had been
too many examples of his euphoric self-confidence and self-aggrandisement
for their liking. He behaved publicly with a cocky, swaggering truculence
that offended their vulpine Latin minds, and behaved towards
them personally with an unimpressed insolence that enraged them beneath
their blandness. They were disturbed by his idiotic bravado- as,
when his bodyguard, Yankee Schwartz, complained that he had been snubbed
by Dave Miller, a prize-fight referee, chieftain of a Jewish
gang and one of four brothers of tough reputation, who were Hirschey,
a gambler-politician in loose beer-running league with Torrio and O'Banion,
Frank, a policeman, and Max, the youngest. To settle this
slight, O'Banion went down to the La Salle Theatre in the Loop,
where, he had learned, Dave Miller was attending the opening of
a musical comedy. At the end of the performance, Dave and Max came
out into the brilliantly lit foyer among a surge of gowned and tuxedoed
first nighters. O'Banion drew his guns and fired at Dave, severely
wounding him in the stomach. A second bullet ricocheted off Max's
belt buckle, leaving him unhurt but in some distress. O'Banion
tucked away his gun and walked out of the theatre; he was neither
prosecuted nor even arrested. That sort of braggadocio, for that sort
of reason, in the view of Torrio and Capone, was a nonsense.
A further example of the incompatible difference in personalities was
when two policemen held up a Torrio beer convoy on a West Side street
and demanded $300 to let it through. One of the beer-runners telephoned
O'Banion- on a line tapped by the detective bureau- and
reported the situation. O'Banion's reaction was: "Three hundred
dollars! To them bums? Why, I can get them knocked off for
half that much". Upon which the detective bureau despatched rifle
squads to prevent trouble if O'Banion should send his gunmen out
to deal with the hijacking policemen. But in the meantime the beer-runner,
unhappy with this solution, telephoned Torrio and returned to
O'Banion with the message: "Say, Dionie, I just been talking
to Johnny, and he said to let them cops have the three hundred. He
says he don't want no trouble". But Torrio and Capone had
graver cause to hate and distrust the Irishman. For three years,
since the liquor territorial conference, Torrio had, with his elastic
patience, and because he knew that retaliation could cause only violent
warfare and disaster to business, tolerated O'Banion's impudent
double-crossing. They had suffered, in sulky silence, the sight of
his sharp practice in Cicero. When, as a diplomatic gesture
of amity and in payment for the loan of gunmen in the April election,
Torrio had given O'Banion a slice of Cicero, the profits from
that district had been $20,000 a month. In six months O'Banion had
boosted the profits to $100,000 a month- mainly by bringing pressure
to bear on fifty Chicago speak-easy proprietors to shift out to the
suburb. These booze customers had until then been buying their supplies
from the Sheldon, Saltis-McErlane, and Druggan-Lake gangs,
and now they were competing for trade with the Torrio-Capone saloons;
once again O'Banion's brash recklessness had caused a proliferation
of ill will. The revenue from O'Banion's Cicero territory
went up still higher, until the yield was more than the Torrio-Capone
takings from the far bigger trade area of Chicago's South and
West Sides. But he still showed no intention of sharing with the
syndicate. At last, even the controlled Torrio was unable to hold still,
and he tentatively suggested that O'Banion should take a percentage
in the Stickney brothels in return for one from his Cicero beer
concession. O'Banion's reply was a raucous laugh and a flat refusal.

Still more jealous bitterness was engendered by the O'Banion

gang's seizure from a West Side marshalling yard of a freight-car
load of Canadian whisky worth $100,000 and by one of the biggest
coups of the Prohibition era- the Sibley warehouse robbery,
which became famous for the cool brazenness of the operation. Here was
stored $1,000,000 worth of bonded whisky. These 1750 cases were carted
off in a one-night operation by the O'Banion men, who left in
their stead the same number of barrels filled with water.

A tsunami may be started by a sea bottom slide, an earthquake

or a volcanic eruption. The most infamous of all was launched by the
explosion of the island of Krakatoa in 1883; it raced across the Pacific
at 300 miles an hour, devastated the coasts of Java and Sumatra
with waves 100 to 130 feet high, and pounded the shore as far away
as San Francisco. The ancient Greeks recorded several catastrophic
inundations by huge waves. Whether or not Plato's tale of
the lost continent of Atlantis is true, skeptics concede that the myth
may have some foundation in a great tsunami of ancient times. Indeed,
a tremendously destructive tsunami that arose in the Arabian Sea
in 1945 has even revived the interest of geologists and archaeologists
in the Biblical story of the Flood. One of the most damaging
tsunami on record followed the famous Lisbon earthquake of November
1, 1755; its waves persisted for a week and were felt as far away
as the English coast. Tsunami are rare, however, in the Atlantic
Ocean; they are far more common in the Pacific. Japan has had 15
destructive ones (eight of them disastrous) since 1596. The Hawaiian
Islands are struck severely an average of once every 25 years.

In 1707 an earthquake in Japan generated waves so huge that they piled

into the Inland Sea; one wave swamped more than 1,000 ships and
boats in Osaka Bay. A tsunami in the Hawaiian Islands in 1869
washed away an entire town (Ponoluu), leaving only two forlorn trees
standing where the community had been. In 1896 a Japanese tsunami killed
27,000 people and swept away 10,000 homes. The dimensions
of these waves dwarf all our usual standards of measurement. An ordinary
sea wave is rarely more than a few hundred feet long from crest to
crest- no longer than 320 feet in the Atlantic or 1,000 feet in the
Pacific. But a tsunami often extends more than 100 miles and sometimes
as much as 600 miles from crest to crest. While a wind wave never
travels at more than 60 miles per hour, the velocity of a tsunami in
the open sea must be reckoned in hundreds of miles per hour. The greater
the depth of the water, the greater is the speed of the wave;
Lagrange's law says that its velocity is equal to the square root of
the product of the depth times the acceleration due to gravity. In
the deep waters of the Pacific these waves reach a speed of 500 miles
per hour. Tsunami are so shallow in comparison with their length
that in the open ocean they are hardly detectable. Their amplitude
sometimes is as little as two feet from trough to crest. Usually it
is only when they approach shallow water on the shore that they build
up to their terrifying heights. On the fateful day in 1896 when the
great waves approached Japan, fishermen at sea noticed no unusual swells.
Not until they sailed home at the end of the day, through a sea
strewn with bodies and the wreckage of houses, were they aware of what
had happened. The seemingly quiet ocean had crashed a wall of water
from 10 to 100 feet high upon beaches crowded with bathers, drowning
thousands of them and flattening villages along the shore. The
giant waves are more dangerous on flat shores than on steep ones. They
usually range from 20 to 60 feet in height, but when they pour into
a ~V-shaped inlet or harbor they may rise to mountainous proportions.

Generally the first salvo of a tsunami is a rather sharp swell,

not different enough from an ordinary wave to alarm casual observers.
This is followed by a tremendous suck of water away from the shore
as the first great trough arrives. Reefs are left high and dry, and
the beaches are covered with stranded fish. At Hilo large numbers
of people ran out to inspect the amazing spectacle of the denuded beach.
Many of them paid for their curiosity with their lives, for some
minutes later the first giant wave roared over the shore. After an earthquake
in Japan in 1793 people on the coast at Tugaru were so terrified
by the extraordinary ebbing of the sea that they scurried to higher
ground. When a second quake came, they dashed back to the beach,
fearing that they might be buried under landslides. Just as they reached
the shore, the first huge wave crashed upon them. A tsunami
is not a single wave but a series. The waves are separated by intervals
of 15 minutes to an hour or more (because of their great length),
and this has often lulled people into thinking after the first great
wave has crashed that it is all over. The waves may keep coming for many
hours. Usually the third to the eighth waves in the series are the
biggest. Among the observers of the 1946 tsunami at Hilo was
Francis P& Shepard of the Scripps Institution of Oceanography,
one of the world's foremost marine geologists. He was able to make
a detailed inspection of the waves. Their onrush and retreat, he reported,
was accompanied by a great hissing, roaring and rattling. The
third and fourth waves seemed to be the highest. On some of the islands'
beaches the waves came in gently; they were steepest on the
shores facing the direction of the seaquake from which the waves had come.
In Hilo Bay they were from 21 to 26 feet high. The highest waves,
55 feet, occurred at Pololu Valley. Scientists and fishermen
have occasionally seen strange by-products of the phenomenon. During
a 1933 tsunami in Japan the sea glowed brilliantly at night. The
luminosity of the water is now believed to have been caused by the
stimulation of vast numbers of the luminescent organism <Noctiluca miliaris>
by the turbulence of the sea. Japanese fishermen have sometimes
observed that sardines hauled up in their nets during a tsunami have
enormously swollen stomachs; the fish have swallowed vast numbers
of bottom-living diatoms, raised to the surface by the disturbance. The
waves of a 1923 tsunami in Sagami Bay brought to the surface and
battered to death huge numbers of fishes that normally live at a depth
of 3,000 feet. Gratified fishermen hauled them in by the thousands.

The tsunami-warning system developed since the 1946 disaster in

Hawaii relies mainly on a simple and ingenious instrument devised
by Commander C& K& Green of the Coast and Geodetic Survey staff.
It consists of a series of pipes and a pressure-measuring chamber
which record the rise and fall of the water surface. Ordinary water
tides are disregarded. But when waves with a period of between 10 and
40 minutes begin to roll over the ocean, they set in motion a corresponding
oscillation in a column of mercury which closes an electric circuit.
This in turn sets off an alarm, notifying the observers at the
station that a tsunami is in progress. Such equipment has been installed
at Hilo, Midway, Attu and Dutch Harbor. The moment the alarm
goes off, information is immediately forwarded to Honolulu, which
is the center of the warning system. This center also receives
prompt reports on earthquakes from four Coast Survey stations in the
Pacific which are equipped with seismographs. Its staff makes a preliminary
determination of the epicenter of the quake and alerts tide
stations near the epicenter for a tsunami. By means of charts showing
wave-travel times and depths in the ocean at various locations, it is
possible to estimate the rate of approach and probable time of arrival
at Hawaii of a tsunami getting under way at any spot in the Pacific.
The civil and military authorities are then advised of the danger,
and they issue warnings and take all necessary protective steps. All
of these activities are geared to a top-priority communication system,
and practice tests have been held to assure that everything will work
smoothly. Since the 1946 disaster there have been 15 tsunami
in the Pacific, but only one was of any consequence. On November 4,
1952, an earthquake occurred under the sea off the Kamchatka Peninsula.
At 17:07 that afternoon (Greenwich time) the shock was recorded
by the seismograph alarm in Honolulu. The warning system immediately
went into action. Within about an hour with the help of reports
from seismic stations in Alaska, Arizona and California, the quake's
epicenter was placed at 51 degrees North latitude and 158 degrees
East longitude. While accounts of the progress of the tsunami came
in from various points in the Pacific (Midway reported it was covered
with nine feet of water), the Hawaiian station made its calculations
and notified the military services and the police that the first big
wave would arrive at Honolulu at 23:30 Greenwich time. It
turned out that the waves were not so high as in 1946. They hurled a
cement barge against a freighter in Honolulu Harbor, knocked down telephone
lines, marooned automobiles, flooded lawns, killed six cows.
But not a single human life was lost, and property damage in the Hawaiian
Islands did not exceed $800,000. There is little doubt that the
warning system saved lives and reduced the damage. But it is
plain that a warning system, however efficient, is not enough. In the
vulnerable areas of the Pacific there should be restrictions against
building homes on exposed coasts, or at least a requirement that they
be either raised off the ground or anchored strongly against waves.
##

The key to the world of geology is change; nothing remains the

same. Life has evolved from simple combinations of molecules in the
sea to complex combinations in man. The land, too, is changing, and
earthquakes are daily reminders of this. Earthquakes result when movements
in the earth twist rocks until they break. Sometimes this is accompanied
by visible shifts of the ground surface; often the shifts
cannot be seen, but they are there; and everywhere can be found scars
of earlier breaks once deeply buried. Today's earthquakes are most
numerous in belts where the earth's restlessness is presently concentrated,
but scars of the past show that there is no part of the earth
that has not had them. The effects of earthquakes on civilization
have been widely publicized, even overemphasized. The role of
an earthquake in starting the destruction of whole cities is tremendously
frightening, but fire may actually be the principal agent in a particular
disaster. Superstition has often blended with fact to color reports.

We have learned from earthquakes much of what we now know

about the earth's interior, for they send waves through the earth
which emerge with information about the materials through which they
have traveled. These waves have shown that 1,800 miles below the surface
a liquid core begins, and that it, in turn, has a solid inner core.

Earthquakes originate as far as 400 miles below the surface,

but they do not occur at greater depths. Two unsolved mysteries are
based on these facts. (1) As far down as 400 miles below the surface
the material should be hot enough to be plastic and adjust itself to
twisting forces by sluggish flow rather than by breaking, as rigid surface
rocks do. (2) If earthquakes do occur at such depths, why not deeper?

Knowledge gained from studying earthquake waves has been

applied in various fields. In the search for oil and gas, we make
similar waves under controlled conditions with dynamite and learn from
them where there are buried rock structures favorable to the accumulation
of these resources. We have also developed techniques for recognizing
and locating underground nuclear tests through the waves in the
ground which they generate. The following discussion of this subject
has been adapted from the book {Causes of Catastrophe} by
L& Don Leet.

#THE RESTLESS EARTH AND ITS INTERIOR#

<At twelve
minutes after five on the morning of Wednesday>, April 18, 1906,
San Francisco was shaken by a severe earthquake. A sharp tremor
was followed by a jerky roll.

{IN} Ireland's County Limerick, near the River

Shannon, there is a quiet little suburb by the name of Garryowen, which
means "Garden of Owen". Undoubtedly none of the residents realize
the influence their town has had on American military history,
or the deeds of valor that have been done in its name. The cry "Garryowen"!
bursting from the lips of a charging cavalry trooper was
the last sound heard on this earth by untold numbers of Cheyennes,
Sioux and Apaches, Mexican <banditos> under Pancho Villa, Japanese
in the South Pacific, and Chinese and North Korean Communists
in Korea. Garryowen is the battle cry of the 7th U& S& Cavalry
Regiment, "The Fighting Seventh". Today a battle
cry may seem an anachronism, for in the modern Army, <esprit de corps>
has been sacrificed to organizational charts and tables. But don't
tell that to a veteran of the Fighting Seventh, especially in a
saloon on Saturday night. Of all the thousands of men who have
served in the 7th Cav, perhaps no one knows its spirit better than
Lieutenant Colonel Melbourne C& Chandler. Wiry and burr-headed,
with steel blue eyes and a chest splattered with medals, Chandler
is the epitome of the old-time trooper. The truth is, however, that
when Mel Chandler first reported to the regiment the only steed he
had ever ridden
was a swivel chair and the only weapon he had ever wielded
was a pencil. Chandler had been commissioned in the Medical
Service Corps and was serving as a personnel officer for the Kansas
City Medical Depot when he decided that if he was going to make
the Army his career, he wanted to be in the fighting part of it. Though
he knew no more about military science and tactics than any other
desk officer, he managed to get transferred to the combat forces. The
next thing he knew he was reporting for duty as commanding officer
of Troop ~H, 7th Cavalry, in the middle of corps maneuvers in Japan.

Outside of combat, he couldn't have landed in a tougher

spot. First of all, no unit likes to have a new ~CO brought in from
the outside, especially when he's an armchair trooper. Second,
if there is ever a perfect time to pull the rug out from under him, it's
on maneuvers. In combat, helping your ~CO make a fool of himself
might mean getting yourself killed. But in maneuvers, with the top
brass watching him all the time, it's easy. Chandler understood
this and expected the worst. But his first few days with Troop
~H were full of surprises, beginning with First Sergeant Robert
Early. Chandler had expected a tough old trooper with a gravel voice.
Instead Sergeant Early was quiet, sharp and confident. He had
enlisted in the Army straight out of high school and had immediately
set about learning his new trade. There was no weapon Early could not
take apart and reassemble blind-folded. He could lead a patrol and
he knew his paper work. Further, he had taken full advantage of the Army's
correspondence courses. He not only knew soldiering, but mathematics,
history and literature as well. But for all his erudite
confidence, Sergeant Early was right out of the Garryowen mold.
He was filled with the spirit of the Fighting Seventh. That saved
Mel Chandler. Sergeant Early let the new ~CO know just how lucky
he was to be in the best troop in the best regiment in the United
States Army. He fed the captain bits of history about the troops and
the regiment. For example, it was a battalion of the 7th Cavalry
under Colonel George Armstrong Custer that had been wiped out at the
Battle of The Little Big Horn. It didn't take Captain
Chandler long to realize that he had to carry a heavy load of tradition
on his shoulders as commander of Troop ~H. But what made the
load lighter was the realization that every officer, non-com and trooper
was ready and willing to help him carry it, for the good of the troop
and the regiment. Maneuvers over, the 7th returned to garrison
duty in Tokyo, Captain Chandler still with them. It was the
7th Cavalry whose troopers were charged with guarding the Imperial
Palace of the Emperor. But still Mel Chandler was not completely
convinced that men would really die for a four-syllable word, "Garryowen".
The final proof was a small incident. It happened
at the St& Patrick's Day party, a big affair for a regiment which
had gone into battle for over three-quarters of a century to the strains
of an Irish march. In the middle of the party Chandler looked
up to see four smiling faces bearing down upon him, each beaming above
the biggest, greenest shamrock he had ever seen. The faces belonged
to Lieutenant Marvin Goulding, his wife and their two children. And
when the singing began, it was the Gouldings who sang the old Irish
songs the best. Though there was an occasional good-natured
chuckle about Marvin Goulding, the Jewish officer from Chicago,
singing tearfully about the ould sod, no one really thought it was strange.
For Marvin Goulding, like Giovanni Martini, the bugler boy
who carried Custer's last message, or Margarito Lopez, the one-man
Army on Leyte, was a Garryowen, through and through. It was no
coincidence
that Goulding was one of the most beloved platoon leaders
in the regiment. And so Mel Chandler got the spirit of Garryowen.
He set out to keep Troop ~H the best troop in the best regiment.
One of his innovations was to see to it that every man- cook
and clerk as well as rifleman- qualified with every weapon in the
troop. Even the mess sergeant, Bill Brown, a dapper, cocky transfer
from an airborne division, went out on the range. The troop received
a new leader, Lieutenant Robert M& Carroll, fresh out of
~ROTC and bucking for Regular Army status. Carroll was sharp
and military, but he was up against tough competition for that ~RA
berth, and he wanted to play it cool. So Mel Chandler set out to
sell him on the spirit of Garryowen, just as he himself had been sold
a short time before. When the Korean war began, on June 25,
1950, the anniversary of the day Custer had gone down fighting at the
Little Big Horn and the day the regiment had assaulted the beachhead
of Leyte during World War /2,, the 7th Cavalry was not in the
best fighting condition. Its entire complement of non-commissioned
officers on the platoon level had departed as cadre for another unit,
and its vehicles were still those used in the drive across Luzon in World
War /2,. Just a month after the Korean War broke out,
the 7th Cavalry was moving into the lines, ready for combat. From
then on the Fighting Seventh was in the thick of the bitterest fighting
in Korea. One night on the Naktong River, Mel Chandler
called on that fabled <esprit de corps>. The regiment was dug in
on the east side of the river and the North Koreans were steadily building
up a concentration of crack troops on the other side. The troopers
knew an attack was coming, but they didn't know when, and they
didn't know where. At 6 o'clock on the morning of August 12, they
were in doubt no longer. Then it came, against Troop ~H.

The enemy had filtered across the river during the night and a full
force of 1000 men, armed with Russian machine guns, attacked the position
held by Chandler's men. They came in waves. First came the
cannon fodder, white-clad civilians being driven into death as a massive
human battering ram. They were followed by crack North Korean troops,
who mounted one charge after another. They overran the 7th Cav's
forward machine-gun positions through sheer weight of numbers, over
piles of their own dead. Another force flanked the company
and took up a position on a hill to the rear. Captain Chandler saw
that it was building up strength. He assembled a group of 25 men, composed
of wounded troopers awaiting evacuation, the company clerk, supply
men, cooks and drivers, and led them to the hill. One of the more
seriously wounded was Lieutenant Carroll, the young officer bucking
for the Regular Army. Chandler left Carroll at the bottom of the hill
to direct any reinforcements he could find to the fight. Then
Mel Chandler started up the hill. He took one step, two, broke
into a trot and then into a run. The first thing he knew the words "Garryowen"!
burst from his throat. His followers shouted the old
battle cry after him and charged the hill, firing as they ran.

The Koreans fell back, but regrouped at the top of the hill and pinned
down the cavalrymen with a screen of fire. Chandler, looking to
right and left to see how his men were faring, suddenly saw another figure
bounding up the hill, hurling grenades and hollering the battle cry
as he ran. It was Bob Carroll, who had suddenly found himself imbued
with the spirit of Garryowen. He had formed his own task force
of three stragglers and led them up the hill in a Fighting Seventh charge.
Because of this diversionary attack the main group that had been
pinned down on the hill was able to surge forward again. But an enemy
grenade hit Carroll in the head and detonated simultaneously. He
went down like a wet rag and the attackers hit the dirt in the face
of
the withering enemy fire. Enemy reinforcements came pouring down,
seeking a soft spot. They found it at the junction between Troops
~H and ~G, and prepared to counterattack. Marvin Goulding saw
what was happening. He turned to his platoon. "Okay, men", he
said. "Follow me". Goulding leaped to his feet and started forward,
"Garryowen"! on his lips, his men following. But the bullets
whacked home before he finished his battle cry and Marvin Goulding
fell dead. For an instant his men hesitated, unable to believe that
their lieutenant,
the most popular officer in the regiment, was dead.
Then they let out a bellow of anguish and rage and, cursing, screaming
and hollering "Garryowen"! they charged into the enemy like
wild men. That finished the job that Captain Chandler and Lieutenant
Carroll had begun. Goulding's platoon pushed back the enemy
soldiers and broke up the timing of the entire enemy attack. Reinforcements
came up quickly to take advantage of the opening made by Goulding's
platoon. The North Koreans threw away their guns and fled
across the rice paddies. Artillery and air strikes were called in
to kill them by the hundreds. Though Bob Carroll seemed to have
had his head practically blown off by the exploding grenade, he lived.
Today he is a major- in the Regular Army. So filled
was Mel Chandler with the spirit of Garryowen that after Korea was
over, he took on the job of writing the complete history of the regiment.
After years of digging, nights and weekends, he put together the
big, profusely illustrated book, <Of Garryowen and Glory>, which
is probably the most complete history of any military unit. ##

The
battle of the Naktong River is just one example of how the battle
cry and the spirit of The Fighting Seventh have paid off. For nearly
a century the cry has never failed to rally the fighting men of the
regiment. Take the case of Major Marcus A& Reno, who survived
the Battle of The Little Big Horn in 1876. From the enlisted
men he pistol-whipped to the subordinate officer whose wife he tried
to rape, a lot of men had plenty of reason heartily to dislike Marcus
Reno. Many of his fellow officers refused to speak to him. But
when a board of inquiry was called to look into the charges of cowardice
made against him, the men who had seen Reno leave the battlefield
and the officer who had heard Reno suggest that the wounded be left
to be tortured by the Sioux, refused to say a harsh word against him.
He was a member of The Fighting Seventh. Although it was
at
the Battle of The Little Horn, about which more words have been
written than any other battle in American history, that the 7th Cavalry
first made its mark in history, the regiment was ten years old by
then. Brevet Major General George Armstrong Custer was the regiment's
first permanent commander and, like such generals as George
S& Patton and Terry de la Mesa Allen in their rise to military
prominence,
Custer was a believer in blood and guts warfare. During
the Civil War, Custer, who achieved a brilliant record, was
made
brigadier general at the age of 23. He finished the war as
a major general, commanding a full division, and at 25 was the youngest
major general in the history of the U& S& Army.
I do not mean to suggest that these assumptions are self-evident, in
the sense that everyone agrees with them. If they were, Walter Lippmann
would be writing the same columns as George Sokolsky, and Herblock
would have nothing to draw cartoons about. I do mean, however, that
<I> take them for granted, and that everything I shall be saying
would appear quite idiotic against any contrary assumptions. _ASSUMPTION
1._ The ultimate objective of American policy is to help establish
a world in which there is the largest possible measure of freedom
and justice and peace and material prosperity; and in particular-
since this is our special responsibility- that these conditions
be enjoyed by the people of the United States. I speak of "the largest
possible measure" because any person who supposes that these
conditions can be universally and perfectly achieved- ever- reckons
without the inherent imperfectability of himself and his fellow human
beings, and is therefore a dangerous man to have around. _ASSUMPTION
2._ These conditions are unobtainable- are not even approachable
in the qualified sense I have indicated- without the prior defeat
of world Communism. This is true for two reasons: because Communism
is both doctrinally, and in practice, antithetical to these conditions;
and because Communists have the will and, as long as Soviet
power remains intact, the capacity to prevent their realization. Moreover,
as Communist power increases, the enjoyment of these conditions
throughout the world diminishes <pro rata> and the possibility of
their restoration becomes increasingly remote. _ASSUMPTION 3._ It
follows that victory over Communism is the dominant, proximate goal
of American policy. Proximate in the sense that there are more distant,
more "positive" ends we seek, to which victory over Communism
is but a means. But dominant in the sense that every other objective,
no matter how worthy intrinsically, must defer to it. Peace is a worthy
objective; but if we must choose between peace and keeping the
Communists out of Berlin, then we must fight. Freedom, in the sense
of self-determination, is a worthy objective; but if granting self-determination
to the Algerian rebels entails sweeping that area into
the Sino-Soviet orbit, then Algerian freedom must be postponed. Justice
is a worthy objective; but if justice for Bantus entails driving
the government of the Union of South Africa away from the West,
then the Bantus must be prepared to carry their identification cards
yet a while longer. Prosperity is a worthy objective; but if providing
higher standards of living gets in the way of producing sufficient
guns to resist Communist aggression, then material sacrifices and
denials will have to be made. It may be, of course, that such objectives
can be pursued consisently with a policy designed to overthrow Communism;
my point is that where conflicts arise they must always be
resolved in favor of achieving the indispensable condition for a tolerant
world- the absence of Soviet Communist power.

#THE USES OF
POWER#

This much having been said, the question remains whether we

have the resources for the job we have to do- defeat Communism-
and, if so, how those resources ought to be used. This brings us squarely
to the problem of <power,> and the uses a nation makes of power.
I submit that this is the key problem of international relations, that
it always has been, that it always will be. And I suggest further
that the main cause of the trouble we are in has been the failure of
American policy-makers, ever since we assumed free world leadership
in 1945, to deal with this problem realistically and seriously.
In the recent political campaign two charges were leveled affecting
the question of power, and I think we might begin by trying to put them
into proper focus. One was demonstrably false; the other, for the
most part, true. The first was that America had become- or
was in danger of becoming- a second-rate military power. I know I
do not have to dwell here on the absurdity of that contention. You
may have misgivings about certain aspects of our military establishment-
I certainly do- but you know any comparison of over-all American
strength with over-all Soviet strength finds the United States
not only superior, but so superior both in present weapons and in the
development of new ones that our advantage promises to be a permanent
feature of U&S&-Soviet relations for the foreseeable future.

I have often searched for a graphic way of impressing our superiority

on those Americans who have doubts, and I think Mr& Jameson
Campaigne has done it well in his new book <American Might and Soviet
Myth>. Suppose, he says, that the tables were turned, and we
were in the Soviets' position: "There would be more than 2,000
modern Soviet fighters, all better than ours, stationed at 250 bases
in Mexico and the Caribbean. Overwhelming Russian naval power would
always be within a few hundred miles of our coast. Half of the population
of the U&S& would be needed to work on arms just to feed
the people". Add this to the unrest in the countries around us where
oppressed peoples would be ready to turn on us at the first opportunity.
Add also a comparatively primitive industrial plant which would
severely limit our capacity to keep abreast of the Soviets even in the
missile field which is reputed to be our main strength. If
we look at the situation this way, we can get an idea of Khrushchev's
nightmarish worries- or, at least, of the worries he might have if
his enemies were disposed to exploit their advantage.

#U&S& "PRESTIGE"#

The other charge was that America's political position

in the world has progressively deteriorated in recent years. The
contention needs to be formulated with much greater precision than it
ever was during the campaign, but once that has been done, I fail to
see how any serious student of world affairs can quarrel with it.

The argument was typically advanced in terms of U&S& "prestige".

Prestige, however, is only a minor part of the problem; and
even then, it is a concept that can be highly misleading. Prestige
is a measure of how other people think of you, well or ill. But contrary
to what was implied during the campaign, prestige is surely not important
for its own sake. Only the vain and incurably sentimental among
us will lose sleep simply because foreign peoples are not as impressed
by our strength as they ought to be. The thing to lose sleep over
is what people, having concluded that we are weaker than we are, are
likely to do about it. The evidence suggests that foreign peoples
believe the United States is weaker than the Soviet Union, and
is bound to fall still further behind in the years ahead. This ignorant
estimate, I repeat, is not of any interest in itself; but it becomes
very important if foreign peoples react the way human beings typically
do- namely, by taking steps to end up on what appears to be
the winning side. To the extent, then, that declining U&S& prestige
means that other nations will be tempted to place their bets on
an ultimate American defeat, and will thus be more vulnerable to Soviet
intimidation, there is reason for concern. Still, these guesses
about the outcome of the struggle cannot be as important as the
actual power relationship between the Soviet Union and ourselves. Here
I do not speak of military power where our advantage is obvious and
overwhelming but of political power- of influence, if you will-
about which the relevant questions are: Is Soviet influence throughout
the world greater or less than it was ten years ago? And is Western
influence greater or less than it used to be?

#COMMUNIST GAINS#

In answering these questions, we need to ask not merely whether

Communist troops have crossed over into territories they did not occupy
before, and not merely whether disciplined agents of the Cominform
are in control of governments from which they were formerly excluded:
the success of Communism's war against the West does not depend
on such spectacular and definitive conquests. Success may mean merely
the displacement of Western influence. Communist political
warfare, we must remember, is waged insidiously and in deliberate stages.
Fearful of inviting a military showdown with the West which they
could not win, the Communists seek to undermine Western power where
the nuclear might of the West is irrelevant- in backwoods guerrilla
skirmishes,
in mob uprisings in the streets, in parliaments, in clandestine
meetings of undercover conspirators, at the United Nations,
on the propaganda front, at diplomatic conferences- preferably at
the highest level. The Soviets understand, moreover, that the
first step in turning a country toward Communism is to turn it against
the West. Thus, typically, the first stage of a Communist takeover
is to "neutralize" a country. The second stage is to retain the
nominal classification of "neutralist", while in fact turning the
country into an active advocate and adherent of Soviet policy. And
this may be as far as the process will go. The Kremlin's goal is
the isolation and capture, not of Ghana, but of the United States-
and this purpose may be served very well by countries that masquerade
under a "neutralist" mask, yet in fact are dependable auxiliaries
of the Soviet Foreign Office. To recite the particulars of
recent Soviet successes is hardly reassuring. Six years ago
French Indochina, though in troubie, was in the Western camp. Today
Northern Vietnam is overtly Communist; Laos is teetering between
Communism and pro-Communist neutralism; Cambodia is, for all
practical purposes, neutralist. Indonesia, in the early days of
the Republic, leaned toward the West. Today Sukarno's government
is heavily besieged by avowed Communists, and for all of its "neutralist"
pretensions, it is a firm ally of Soviet policy. Ceylon
has moved from a pro-Western orientation to a neutralism openly
hostile to the West. In the Middle East, Iraq, Syria and
Egypt were, a short while ago, in the Western camp. Today the Nasser
and Kassem governments are adamantly hostile to the West, are dependent
for their military power on Soviet equipment and personnel;
in almost every particular follow the Kremlin's foreign policy line.

A short time ago all Africa was a Western preserve. Never

mind whether the Kikiyus and the Bantus enjoyed Wilsonian self-determination:
the point is that in the struggle for the world that
vast land mass was under the domination and influence of the West. Today,
Africa is swerving violently away from the West and plunging,
it would seem, into the Soviet orbit. Latin America was once
an area as "safe" for the West as Nebraska was for Nixon. Today
it is up for grabs. One Latin American country, Cuba, has become
a Soviet bridgehead ninety miles off our coast. In some countries
the trend has gone further than others: Mexico, Panama, and Venezuela
are displaying open sympathy for Castroism, and there is no country-
save the Dominican Republic whose funeral services we recently
arranged- where Castroism and anti-Americanism does not prevent
the government from unqualifiedly espousing the American cause.

Only in Europe have our lines remained firm- and there only on the
surface. The strains of neutralism are running strong, notably in
England, and even in Germany.

#OPPORTUNITIES MISSED#

What have
we to show by way of counter-successes? We have had opportunities-
clear invitations to plant our influence on the other side of the Iron
Curtain. There was the Hungarian Revolution which we praised
and mourned, but did nothing about. There was the Polish Revolution
which we misunderstood and then helped guide along a course favorable
to Soviet interests. There was the revolution in Tibet which we pretended
did not exist. Only in one instance have we moved purposively
and effectively to dislodge existing Communist power: in Guatemala.
And contrary to what has been said recently, we did not wait for "outside
pressures" and "world opinion" to bring down that Communist
government; we moved decisively to effect an anti-Communist
<coup
d'etat>. We served our national interests, and by so doing we
saved the Guatemalan people the ultimate in human misery.

THE FIRST RATTLE of the machine guns, at 7:10 in the evening,

roused around me the varied voices and faces of fear. "Sounds
exactly like last time". The young man spoke steadily enough,
but all at once he looked grotesquely unshaven. The middle-aged man
said over and over, "Why did I come here, why did I come
here".
Then he was sick. Amid the crackle of small arms and automatic weapons,
I heard the thumping of mortars. Then the lights went out.

This was my
second day in Vientiane, the administrative capital of
Laos, and my thoughts were none too brave. Where was my flashlight?
Where should I go? To my room? Better stay in the hotel lobby,
where the walls looked good and thick. Chinese and Indian
merchants across the street were slamming their steel shutters. Hotel
attendants pulled parked bicycles into the lobby. A woman with a small
boy slipped in between them. "Please", she said, "please".
She held out her hand to show that she had money. The American
newspaperman worried about getting to the cable office. But what
was the story? Had the Communist-led Pathet Lao finally come this
far? Or was it another revolt inside Vientiane? "Let's
play hero", I said. "Let's go to the roof and see".

#GUNFIRE
SAVES THE MOON#

By 7:50 the answer was plain. There had

been an eclipse of the moon. A traditional Lao explanation is that
the moon was being swallowed by a toad, and the remedy was to make all
possible noise, ideally with firearms. The din was successful,
too, for just before the moon disappeared, the frightened toad had
begun
to spit it out again, which meant good luck all around. How
quaint it all seemed the next day. A restaurant posted a reminder to
patrons "who became excited and left without paying their checks".
But everyone I met had sought cover first and asked questions later.
And no wonder, for Vientiane, the old City of Sandalwood, had
become the City of Bullet Holes. I saw holes in planes at the
airport and in cars in the streets. Along the main thoroughfares hardly
a house had not been peppered. In place of the police headquarters
was a new square filled with rubble. Mortars had demolished the
defense ministry and set fire to the American Embassy next door. What
had been the ambassador's suite was now jagged walls of blackened
brick. This damage had been done in the battle of Vientiane,
fought less than three months earlier when four successive governments
had ruled here in three days (December 9-11, 1960). And now, in March,
all Laos suffered a state of siege. The Pathet Lao forces held
two northern provinces and openly took the offensive in three more.
Throughout the land their hit-and-run terrorists spread fear of ambush
and death. "And it's all the more tragic because it's
so little deserved", said Mr& J& J& A& Frans, a Belgian
official of the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural
Organization. We talked after I hailed his Jeep marked with
the U& N& flag. Practically all the people of Laos, he
explained- about two million of them- are rice farmers, and the means
and motives of modern war are as strange to them as clocks and steel
plows. They look after their fields and children and water buffaloes
in ten or eleven thousand villages, with an average of 200 souls.
Nobody can tell more closely how many villages there are. They spread
over an area no larger than Oregon; yet they include peoples as different
from one another as Oregonians are from Patagonians.

#LIFE
MUST BE KEPT IN HARMONY#

"What matters here is family loyalty;

faith in the Buddha and staying at peace with the <phis>, the spirits;
and to live in harmony with nature". Harmony in Laos?
"Precisely", said Mr& Frans. He spoke of the season of
dryness and dust, brought by the monsoon from the northeast, in harmony
with the season of rain and mud, brought by the monsoon from the southwest.
The slim pirogues in harmony with the majestically meandering
Mekong River. Shy, slender-waisted girls at the loom in harmony with
the frangipani by the wayside. Even life in harmony with death. For
so long as death was not violent, it was natural and to be welcomed,
making a funeral a feast. To many a Frenchman- they came
95 years ago, colonized, and stayed until Laos became independent in
1953- the land had been even more delightfully tranquil than Tahiti.
Yet Laos was now one of the most explosive headaches of statesmen
around the globe. The Pathet Lao, stiffened by Communist Veterans
from neighboring North Viet Nam, were supplied by Soviet aircraft.
The Royal Lao Army, on the other hand, was paid and equipped with
American funds. In six years, U& S& aid had amounted to more
than $1.60 for each American- a total of three hundred million dollars.

We were there at a moment when the situation in Laos threatened

to ignite another war among the world's giants. Even if it
did not, how would this little world of gentle people cope with its
new reality of grenades and submachine guns? To find out, we
traveled throughout that part of Laos still nominally controlled, in
the daytime at least, by the Royal Lao Army: from Attopeu, the
City
of Buffalo Dung in the southeast, to Muong Sing, the City of
Lions in the northwest, close to Communist China (map, page 250).
We rode over roads so rough that our Jeep came to rest atop the soil
between ruts, all four wheels spinning uselessly. We flew in rickety
planes so overloaded that we wondered why they didn't crash. In the
end we ran into Communist artillery fire. "We" were Bill
Garrett of the NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC Illustrations Staff, whose
three cameras and eight lenses made him look as formidable as any
fighting man we met; Boun My, our interpreter; and myself.

Boun My- the name means one who has a <boun>, a celebration, and
is therefore lucky- was born in Savannakhet, the Border of Paradise.
He had attended three universities in the United States. But
he had never seen the mountainous half of his native land north of Vientiane,
including the royal capital, Luang Prabang. Before the airplanes
came, he said, travel in Laos was just about impossible.

#PRIME
MINISTER MOVES FAST#

Alas, so it almost proved for us, too. To

go outside the few cities required permits. and getting them seemed
a life's work. Nobody wanted Americans to be hurt or captured, and
few soldiers could be spared as escorts. We were told that to
the Pathet Lao, a kidnaped American was worth at least $750, a fortune
in Laos. Everyone had heard of the American contractor who had
spurned an escort. Now Pathet Lao propagandists were reported marching
him barefoot from village to village, as evidence of evil American
intervention. Although we enjoyed our rounds of the government
offices in Vientiane, with officials offering tea and pleasing conversation
in French, we were getting nowhere. We had nearly decided
that all the tales of Lao lethargy must be true, when we were invited
to take a trip with the Prime Minister. Could we be ready in 15
minutes? His Highness had decided only two hours ago to go out of
town, and he was eager to be off.

#PRINCE WEARS TEN-GALLON HAT#

And
so, after a flight southeast to Savannakhet, we found ourselves bouncing
along in a Jeep right behind the Land-Rover of Prince Boun
Oum of Champassak, a tall man of Churchillian mien in a bush jacket
and a ten-gallon hat from Texas. From his shoulder bag peeked the
seven-inch barrel of a Luger. The temperature rose to 105`.
With our company of soldiers, we made one long column of reddish dust.

In Keng Kok, the City of Silkworms, the Prime Minister

bought fried chickens and fried cicadas, and two notebooks for me.
Then we drove on, until there was no more road and we traversed dry rice
fields, bouncing across their squat earth walls. It was a
spleen-crushing day. An hour of bouncing, a brief stop in a village to
inspect a new school or dispensary. More bouncing, another stop, a
new house for teachers, a new well. Then off again, rushing to keep up.
We were miserable. But our two Jeep mates- Keo Viphakone
from Luang Prabang and John Cool from Beaver, Pennsylvania-
were beaming under their coatings of dust. Together they had probably
done more than any other men to help push Laos toward the 20th century-
constructively. Mr& Keo, once a diplomat in Paris and Washington,
was Commissioner of Rural Affairs. John, an engineer and anthropologist
with a doctorate from the London School of Economics,
headed the rural development division of ~USOM, the United States
Operations Mission administering U&S& aid. "What
you see are self-help projects", John said. "We ask the people
what they want, and they supply the labor. We send shovels, cement,
nails,
and corrugated iron for roofs. That way they have an infirmary
for $400. We have 2,500 such projects, and they add up to a lot more
than just roads and wells and schools. Ask Mr& Keo".
Mr&
Keo agreed. "Our people have been used to accepting things as
they found them", he said. "Where there was no road, they lived
without one. Now they learn that men can change their surroundings,
through their traditional village elders, without violence. That's
a big step toward a modern state. You might say we are in the nation-building
business". In the villages people lined up to give
us flowers. Then came coconuts, eggs, and rice wine. The Prime Minister
paid his respects to the Buddhist monks, strode rapidly among the
houses, joked with the local soldiery, and made a speech. The soldiers
are fighting and the Americans are helping, he said, but in the
fight against the Pathet Lao the key factor is the villager himself.

Then we were off again. We did it for three days. But

our stumping tour of the south wasn't all misery. Crossing the 4,000-foot
width of the Mekong at Champassak, on a raft with an outboard
motor, we took off our dusty shirts and enjoyed a veritable ocean
breeze. Then we hung overboard in the water. Briefly we rolled
over a paved road up to Pak Song, on the cool Bolovens Plateau.
The Prince visited the hospital of Operation Brotherhood, supported
by the Junior Chamber of Commerce of the Philippines, and fed rice
to two pet elephants he kept at his residence at Pak Song.

#STRINGS
KEEP SOULS IN PLACE#

In the village of Soukhouma, which means

"Peaceful", we had a <baci>. This is the most endearing of Lao
ceremonies. It takes place in the household, a rite of well-wishing
for myriad occasions- for the traveler, a wedding, a newborn child,
the sick, the New Year, for any good purpose. The preparations
were elaborate: flowers, candles, incense sticks, rice wine, dozens
of delicacies, and pieces of white cotton string. The strings were
draped around flowers in tall silver bowls (page 261). The
candles were lighted, and we sat on split-bamboo mats among the village
notables. I was careful to keep my feet, the seat of the least worthy
spirits, from pointing at anyone's head, where the worthiest spirits
reside. Now a distinguished old man called on nine divinities to
come and join us. Next he addressed himself to our souls. A
man has 32 souls, one for each part of the body. Those souls like to
wander off, and must be called back. With the divinities present
and our souls in place, we were wished health, happiness, and power.
Then, one after another, the villagers tied the waiting cotton strings
around our wrists. These were to be kept on, to hold in the 32 souls.

As we stepped out into the sunlight, a man came up to John

Cool and silently showed him his hand. It had a festering hole as
big as a silver dollar. We could see maggots moving. John said:
"I have some antiseptic salve with me, but it's too late for
that".
My interviews with teen-agers confirmed this portrait of the weakening
of religious and ethnic bonds. Jewish identity was often confused
with social and economic strivings. "Being Jewish gives you tremendous
drive", a boy remarked. "It means that you have to get
ahead". When I pressed for a purely religious definition, I encountered
the familiar blend of liberal piety, interfaith good will, and
a small residue of ethnic loyalty. "I like the tradition",
a girl said. "I like to follow the holidays when they come along.
But you don't have to worship in the traditional way. You can communicate
in your own way. As I see it, there's no real difference between
being Jewish, Catholic, or Protestant". Another teen-ager
remarked: "Most Jews don't believe in God, but they believe
in people- in helping people". Still another boy asserted:
"To be a good Jew is to do no wrong; it's to be a good person".
When asked how this was different from being a good Protestant,
the boy answered, "It's the same thing". This accords
with the study by Maier and Spinrad. They discovered that, although
42 per cent of a sample of Catholic students and 15 per cent of the
Protestants believed it important to live in accordance with the teachings
of their religion, only 8 per cent of the Jewish students had this
conviction. The most important aims of the Jewish students were as
follows: to make the world a better place to live in- 30 per cent;
to get happiness for yourself- 28 per cent; and financial independence-
21 per cent. Nevertheless, most of the teen-agers
I interviewed believed in maintaining their Jewish identity and even
envisioned joining a synagogue or temple. However, they were hostile
to Jewish Orthodoxy, professing to believe in Judaism "but in a
moderate way". One boy said querulously about Orthodox Jews: "It's
the twentieth century, and they don't have to wear beards".

The reason offered for clinging to the ancestral faith lacked

force and authority even in the teen-agers' minds. "We were brought
up that way" was one statement which won general assent. "I
want to show respect for my parents' religion" was the way in which
a boy justified his inhabiting a halfway house of Judaism. Still
another suggested that he would join a temple "for social reasons,
since I'll be living in a suburb". Intermarriage, which
is generally regarded as a threat to Jewish survival, was regarded not
with horror or apprehension but with a kind of mild, clinical disapproval.
Most of the teen-agers I interviewed rejected it on pragmatic
grounds. "When you marry, you want to have things in common", a
girl said, "and it's hard when you don't marry someone with your
own background". A fourteen-year-old girl from the Middle
West observed wryly that, in her community, religion inconveniently interfered
with religious activities- at least with the peripheral activities
that many middle class Jews now regard as religious. It appears
that an Orthodox girl in the community disrupted plans for an outing
sponsored by one of the Jewish service groups because she would
not travel on Saturday and, in addition, required kosher food. Another
girl from a relatively large midwestern city described herself as "the
only Orthodox girl in town". This is, no doubt, inaccurate,
but it does convey how isolated she feels among the vast army of the
nonobservant.

#THE OLDER TEENS#

One of the significant things about

Jewish culture in the older teen years is that it is largely college-oriented.
Sixty-five per cent of the Jewish teen-agers of college
age attend institutions of higher learning. This is substantially higher
than the figures for the American population at large- 45.6 per
cent for males and 29.2 per cent for females. This may help explain
a phenomenon described by a small-town Jewish boy. In their first two
years in high school, Jewish boys in this town make strenuous exertions
to win positions on the school teams. However, in their junior and
senior years, they generally forego their athletic pursuits, presumably
in the interest of better academic achievement. It is significant,
too, that the older teen-agers I interviewed believed, unlike the
younger ones, that Jewish students tend to do better academically than
their gentile counterparts. The percentage of Jewish girls
who attend college is almost as high as that of boys. The motivations
for both sexes, to be sure, are different. The vocational motive is
the dominant one for boys, while Jewish girls attend college for social
reasons and to become culturally developed. One of the significant
developments in American-Jewish life is that the cultural consumers
are largely the women. It is they who read- and make- Jewish
best-sellers and then persuade their husbands to read them. In
upper teen Jewish life, the non-college group tends to have a sense
of marginality. "People automatically assume that I'm in college",
a nineteen-year-old machinist observed irritably. However, among
the girls, there are some morale-enhancing compensations for not going
to college. The Jewish working girl almost invariably works in an
office- in contradistinction to gentile factory workers- and, buttressed
by a respectable income, she is likely to dress better and live
more expansively than the college student. She is even prone to regard
the college girl as immature.

#THE LOWER-MIDDLE CLASS COLLEGE STUDENT#

One of the reasons for the high percentage of Jewish teen-agers

in college is that a great many urban Jews are enabled to attend
local colleges at modest cost. This is particularly true in large centers
of Jewish population like New York, Chicago, and Philadelphia.

What is noteworthy about this large group of teen-agers is

that, although their attitudes hardly differentiate them from their
gentile counterparts,
they actually lead their lives in a vast self-enclosed
Jewish cosmos with relatively little contact with the non-Jewish
world. Perhaps the Jewish students at Brooklyn College-
constituting 85 per cent of those who attend the day session- can
serve as a paradigm of the urban, lower-middle class Jewish student.

There is, to begin, an important sex difference. Typically, in

a lower-middle class Jewish family, a son will be sent to an out-of-town
school, if financial resources warrant it, while the daughter will
attend the local college. There are two reasons for this. First,
the girl's education has a lower priority than the son's. Second,
the attitude in Jewish families is far more protective toward the daughter
than toward the son. Most Jewish mothers are determined to exercise
vigilance over the social and sexual lives of their daughters by
keeping them home. The consequence of this is that the girls at Brooklyn
College outnumber the boys and do somewhat better academically.
One can assume that some of the brightest boys are out of town.

Brooklyn College students have an ambivalent attitude toward their

school. On the one hand, there is a sense of not having moved beyond
the ambiance of their high school. This is particularly acute for
those who attended Midwood High School directly across the street
from Brooklyn College. They have a sense of marginality at being denied
that special badge of status, the out-of-town school. At the same
time, there is a good deal of self-congratulation at attending a good
college- they are even inclined to exaggerate its not inconsiderable
virtues- and they express pleasure at the cozy in-group feeling
that the college generates. "It's people of your own kind", a girl
remarked. "You don't have to watch what you say. Of course,
I would like to go to an out-of-town school where there are all kinds
of people, but I would want lots of Jewish kids there". For
most Brooklyn College students, college is at once a perpetuation
of their ethnic attachments and a breaking away from the cage of neighborhood
and family. @rooklyn College is unequivocally Jewish in
tone, and efforts to detribalize the college by bringing in unimpeachably
midwestern types on the faculty have been unavailing. However, a
growing intellectual sophistication and the new certitudes imparted by
courses in psychology and anthropology make the students increasingly
critical of their somewhat provincial and overprotective parents. And
the rebellion of these third generation Jews is not the traditional
conflict of culture but, rather, a protest against a culture that they
view as softly and insidiously enveloping. "As long as I'm home,
I'll never grow up", a nineteen-year-old boy observed sadly.
"They don't like it if I do anything away from home. It's so
much trouble, I don't usually bother". For girls, the overprotection
is far more pervasive. Parents will drive on Friday night
to pick up their daughters after a sorority or House Plan meeting.
A freshman girl's father not too long ago called a dean at Brooklyn
College and demanded the "low-down" on a boy who was going out
with his daughter. The domestic tentacles even extend to the choice
of a major field. Under pressure from parents, the majority of Brooklyn
College girls major in education since that co-ordinates best with
marriage plans- limited graduate study requirement and convenient
working hours. This means that a great many academically talented girls
are discouraged from pursuing graduate work of a more demanding nature.
A kind of double standard exists here for Jewish boys and girls
as it does in the realm of sex. The breaking away from the prison
house of Brooklyn is gradual. First, the student trains on his
hapless parents the heavy artillery of his newly acquired psychological
and sociological insights. Then, with the new affluence, there is
actually a sallying forth into the wide, wide world beyond the precincts
of New York. It is significant that the Catskills, which used to
be the summer playground for older teen-agers, a kind of summer suburb
of New York, no longer attracts them in great numbers- except for
those who work there as waiters, bus boys, or counselors in the day
camps. The great world beyond beckons. But it should be pointed out
that some of the new watering places- Fire Island, Nantucket, Westhampton,
Long Island, for example- tend to be homogeneously Jewish.
Although Brooklyn College does not yet have a junior-year-abroad
program, a good number of students spend summers in Europe. In
general, however, the timetable of travel lags considerably behind that
of the student at Harvard or Smith. And acculturation into the world
at large is likely to occur for the Brooklyn College student after
college rather than during the four school years. Brooklyn
College is Marjorie Morningstar territory, as much as the Bronx or
Central Park West. There are hordes of nubile young women there
who, prodded by their impatient mothers, are determined to marry.
It is interesting that, although the percentage of married students
is not appreciably higher at Brooklyn than elsewhere- about 30 per
cent of the women and 25 per cent of the men in the graduating class-
the anxiety of the unmarried has puffed up the estimate. "Almost
everybody in the senior class is married", students say dogmatically.
And the school newspaper sells space to jubilant fraternities, sororities,
and houses (in the House Plan Association) that have good
news to impart. These announcements are, in effect, advertisements
for themselves as thriving marriage marts. There are boxed proclamations
in the newspaper of watchings, pinnings, ringings, engagements, and
marriages in a scrupulously graded hierarchy of felicity. "Witt House
happily announces the engagement of Fran Horowitz to Erwin Schwartz
of Fife House". The Brooklyn College student shows
some striking departures from prevailing collegiate models. The Ivy
League enjoys no easy dominion here, and the boys are as likely to
dress in rather foppish Continental fashion, or even in nondescript
working class manner, as they are in the restrained, button-down Ivy
way. The girls are prone to dress far more flamboyantly than their counterparts
out of town, and eye shadow, mascara, and elaborate <bouffant>
hairdos- despite the admonitions of cautious guidance personnel-
are not unknown even in early morning classes. Among the
boys, there is very little bravado about drinking. Brooklyn College
is distinctive for not having an official drinking place. The Fort Lauderdale
encampment for drinking is foreign to most Brooklyn College
boys.
This should be used frequently (but shaken before using). For galled
breasts, the mother should shave into half a cup of fresh unsalted lard
enough white chalk to make a paste. This could also be used for any
other skin irritation. Or she might place cornstarch in the oven for
a short time and then apply this under her breasts. "Female
troubles" of various kinds do not seem to have been common on the
frontier; at least I have only one remedy for anything of this kind
in my collection, one for hastening delayed menstruation. The sufferer
drinks tansy tea. Bruises, burns, cuts, etc&, occurred frequently
on the frontier, and folk medicine gave the answers to these
problems too. Bruises and black eyes were relieved by application of
raw beefsteak. (Doctors now say that it was not the meat but the coolness
of the applications which relieved the pain.) Salted butter was
another
cure for bruises. Many people agreed that burns should be treated
with bland oily salves or unsalted butter or lard, but one informant
told me that a burn should be bathed in salt water; the burn oozed
watery fluid for many days, and finally the healing was completed by
bathing it with epsom salts. Another swore by vinegar baths for burns,
and still another recommended salted butter. "Butter salve" or
"butter ointment" was used for burns, and for bruises as well. This
was made by putting butter in a pan of water and allowing it to boil;
when it was cool, the fat was skimmed off and bottled. Cow's
milk was another cure for burns, and burns covered with gum arabic or
plain mucilage healed quickly. One man, badly burned about the face and
eyes by an arc welding torch, was blinded and could not find a doctor
at the time. A sympathetic friend made poultices of raw potato parings,
which she said was the best and quickest way to draw out the "heat".
Later the doctor used mineral oil on the burns. The results
were good, but which treatment helped is still not known. To
stop bleeding, cobwebs were applied to cuts and wounds. One old-timer
said to sprinkle sugar on a bleeding cut, even when on a knuckle, if it
was made by a rusty tool; this would stop the flow and also prevent
infection. My lawyer told me that his mother used a similar remedy
for cuts and wounds; she sprinkled common sugar directly on the injury
and then bound it loosely with cotton cloth, over which she poured
turpentine. He showed me one of his fingers which had been practically
amputated and which his mother had treated; there is scarcely a scar
showing. Tobacco was common first aid. A "chaw" of tobacco put
on an open wound was both antiseptic and healing. Or a thin slice
of plug tobacco might be laid on the open wound without chewing. One
old man told me that when he was a boy he was kicked in the head by a
fractious mule and had his scalp laid back from the entire front of his
head. His brother ran a mile to get the father; when they reached
the boy, the father sliced a new plug of tobacco, put the scalp back
in place, and covered the raw edges with the slices. Then he put a rag
around the dressing to keep it in place. There was no cleaning or further
care, but the wound healed in less than two weeks and showed no
scar. Veronica from the herb garden was also used to stop bleeding,
and rue was an antiseptic. Until quite recently, "sterile" maggots
could be bought to apply to a wound; they would feed on its surface,
leaving it clean so that it could be medically treated. Tetanus
could be avoided by pouring warm turpentine over a wound. One family
bound wounds with bacon or salt pork strips, or, if these were not
handy, plain lard. Another sprinkled sugar on hot coals and held the
wounded foot or hand in the smoke. Rabies were cured or prevented
by "madstones" which the pioneer wore or carried. In 1872 there were
known to be twenty-two in Norton County, and one had been in the
family for 200 years. Another cure for hydrophobia was to suck the wounds,
then cauterize them with a hot knife or poker. While nowadays
we recognize the fact that there are many causes for bleeding at
the nose, not long ago a nosebleed was simply that, and treatment had
little
variation. Since a fall or blow might have caused it, a cold pack
was usually first aid. This might be applied to the top of the nose
or the back of the neck, pressed on the upper lip, or inserted into the
nostril (cotton was usually used in this last). Nosebleed could be
stopped by wrapping a red woolen string about the patient's neck and
tying in it a knot for each year of his life. Or the victim could chew
hard on a piece of paper, meanwhile pressing his fingers tight in
his ears. Old sores could be healed by the constant application
of a wash made of equal parts vinegar and water. Blood blisters could
be prevented from forming by rubbing a work blister immediately with
any hard nonpoisonous substance. Felons were cured by taking common
salt and drying it in the oven, pounding it fine, and mixing it with equal
parts of spirits of turpentine; this mixture was then spread on
a cloth and wrapped around the affected part. As the cloth dried, more
of the mixture was applied, and after twenty-four hours the felon was
supposed to be "killed". Insect bites were cured in many
ways. Many an old-timer swore by the saliva method; "get a bite,
spit on it" was a proverb. This was used also for bruises. Yellow
clay was used as a poultice for insect bites and also for swellings;
not long ago "Denver Mud" was most popular. Chiggers were a
common pest along streams and where gardens and berries thrived; so
small as to be scarcely visible to the eye, they buried themselves in
the victim's flesh. Bathing the itching parts with kerosene gave relief
and also killed the pests. Ant bites were eased by applying liquid
bluing. For mosquito bites a paste of half a glass of salt and half
a glass of soda was made. For wasp stings onion juice, obtained by
scraping an onion, gave quick relief. A handier remedy was to bathe the
painful part in strong soapy water; mud was sometimes used as well
as soap. Just plain old black dirt was also used as a pack to relieve
wasp or bee stings. Bedbugs were a common pest in pioneer days;
to keep them out of homes, even in the 1900's, was a chore. Bed
slats were washed in alum water, legs of beds were placed in cups
of kerosene, and all woodwork was treated liberally with corrosive sublimate,
applied with a feather. Kerosene was very effective in ridding
pioneer homes of the pests. At times pioneer children got lice in their
hair. A kerosene shampoo seems a heroic treatment, but it did the
job. To remove an insect from one's ear warm water should
be inserted. A cinder or other small object could be removed from the
eye by placing a flaxseed in the eye. As the seed swelled its glutinous
covering protected the eyeball from irritation, and both the cinder
and the seed could soon be washed out. Another way to remove small
objects from the eye was to have the person look cross-eyed; the particle
would then move toward the nose, where it could be wiped out with
a wisp of cotton. Shingles were cured by gentian, an old drug,
used in combinations. For erysipelas a mixture of one dram borax and
one
ounce glycerine was applied to the afflicted part on linen cloth. Itching
skin, considered "just nerves", was eased by treating with
whiskey and salt. Winter itch was treated by applying strong apple cider
in which pulverized bloodroot had been steeped. To cure fungus growths
on mouth or hands people made a strong tea by using a handful of
sassafras bark in a quart of water. They drank half a cup of this morning
and night, and they also washed and soaked their hands in the same
solution. Six treatments cured one case which lasted a month and
had defied other remedies. Frostbite was treated by putting the feet
and hands in ice water or by rubbing them with snow. Now one hears that
heat and hot water are used instead. Another remedy was oil of eucalyptus,
used as well for chilblains. Chilblains were also treated with
tincture of capsicum or cabbage leaves. Boils have always been
a source of much trouble. A German informant gave me a sure cure
made by combining rye flour and molasses into a poultice. Another poultice
was made from the inner bark of the elm tree, steeped in water
until it formed a sticky, gummy solution. This was also used for sores.
Another frequent pioneer difficulty, caused by wearing rough and heavy
shoes and boots, was corns. One veracious woman tells me she has
used thin potato parings for both corns and calluses on her feet and they
remove the pain or "fire". Another common cure was to soak the
feet five or ten minutes in warm water, then to apply a solution of
equal parts of soda and common brown soap on a kid bandage overnight.
This softened the skin so that in the morning when the bandage was removed
the corn could be scraped off and a bit of corn plaster put on.

There were many cures for warts. One young girl told me how her
mother removed a wart from her finger by soaking a copper penny in
vinegar for three days and then painting the finger with the liquid several
times. Another wart removal method was to rub each wart with a
bean split open and then to bury the bean halves under the drip of the
house for seven days. Saliva gathered in the mouth after a night's
sleep was considered poisonous; wetting a wart with this saliva on
wakening the first thing in the morning was supposed to cause it to disappear
after only a few treatments, and strangely enough many warts did
just that. One wart cure was to wrap it in a hair from a blonde gypsy.
Another was to soak raw beef in vinegar for twenty-four hours, tie
it on the wart, and wear it for a week. A simpler method was to tie
a thread tightly around the wart at its base and wear it this way. I
know this worked. One person recommended to me washing the wart with
sulphur water; another said it should be rubbed with a cut potato
three times daily. Another common method was to cut an onion in two and
place each half on the wart for a moment; the onion was then fastened
together with string and placed beneath a dripping eave. As the
onion decayed, so did the wart. Sore muscles were relieved by
an arnica rub; sore feet by calf's-foot, an herb from the pioneer's
ubiquitous herb garden, or by soaking the feet in a pan of hot water
in which two cups of salt had been dissolved. Leg cramps, one person
tells me, were relieved by standing barefoot with the weight of the
body on the heel and pressing down hard. This does give relief, as I
can testify. One doctor prescribed a tablespoon of whiskey or brandy
before each meal for leg cramps. Pains in the back of the leg and in
the abdomen were prevented from reaching the upper body by tying a rope
about the patient's waist. For sprains and swellings, one
pint of cider vinegar and half a pint of spirits of turpentine added
to three well beaten eggs was said to give speedy relief.

EXCEPT FOR the wine waiter in a restaurant- always an inscrutable

plenipotentiary unto himself, the genii with the keys to unlock
the gates of the wine world are one's dealer, and the foreign shipper
or <negociant> who in turn supplies him. In instances where
both of these are persons or firms with integrity, the situation is ideal.
It may, on occasion, be anything but that. However, by cultivating
a wine dealer and accepting his advice, one will soon enough ascertain
whether he has any knowledge of wines (as opposed to what he may
have been told by salesmen and promoters) and, better yet, whether he
has a taste for wine. Again, by spreading one's purchases over several
wine dealers, one becomes familiar with the names and specialties
of reputable wine dealers and shippers abroad. This is important because,
despite all the efforts of the French government, an appreciable
segment of France's export trade in wines is still tainted with a
misrepresentation approaching downright dishonesty, and there are many
too many <negociants> who would rather turn a <sou> than amass a
creditable reputation overseas. A good <negociant> or shipper
will not only be the man or the firm which has cornered the wines from
the best vineyards, or the best parts of them; he may also be the
one who makes and bottles the best blends- sound wines from vineyards
generally in his own district. These are the wines the French themselves
use for everyday drinking, for even in France virtually no one
drinks the <Grands Crus> on a meal-to-meal basis. The <Grands
Crus> are expensive, and even doting palates tire of them. And certainly,
in the case of the beginner or the comparatively uninitiated wine
drinker, the palate and the capacity for appreciation will not be ready
for the <Grands Crus> as a steady diet without frequent recourse
to <crus> of less renown. There is nothing <infra dig> about a
good blend from a good shipper. Some of them are very delicious indeed,
and there are many good ones exported- unfortunately, along with
others not so good, and worse. Consultation with a reputable wine dealer
and constant experimentation- "steering ever from the known to
the unknown"- are the requisites. Wine waiters are something
else again; especially if one is travelling or dining out a great
deal, their importance mounts. Most of them, the world over, operate
on the same principle by which justice is administered in France and
some other Latin countries: the customer is to be considered guilty
of abysmal ignorance until proven otherwise, with the burden of proof
on the customer himself. Now the drinking of wine (and happily so!)
is for the most part a recondite affair, for manifestly, if everyone
in the world who could afford the best wines also liked them, the
supply would dry up in no time at all. This is the only valid, and extenuating,
argument that may be advanced in defense of the reprehensible
attitude of the common wine waiter. A really good wine waiter is,
paradoxically, the guardian (and not the purveyor) of his cellar against
the Visigoths. Faced, on the one hand, with an always exhaustible
supply of his best wines, and on the other by a clientele usually equipped
with inexhaustible pocketbooks, it is a wonder indeed that all wine
waiters are not afflicted with chronic ambivalence. The one way to
get around them- short of knowing exactly what one wants and sticking
to it- is to frequent a single establishment until its wine waiter
is persuaded that one is at least as interested in wine as in spending
money. Only then, perhaps, will he reveal his jewels and his bargains.

Wine bought from a dealer should ideally be allowed to rest

for several weeks before it is served. This is especially true of
red wines, and a practice which, though not always practicable, is well
worth the effort. It does no harm for wine to stand on end for a matter
of days, but in terms of months and years it is fatal. Wine stored
for a long time should be on its side; otherwise, the cork dries
and air enters to spoil it. When stacking wine on its side in a bin,
care should always be taken to be sure there is no air bubble left next
to the cork. Fat bottles, such as Burgundies, have a way of rolling
around in the bin and often need little props, such as a bit of cardboard
or a chip of wood, to hold them in the proper reclining posture.
Too much dampness in the cellar rots the corks, again with ill effects.
The best rule of thumb for detecting corked wine (provided the eye
has not already spotted it) is to smell the wet end of the cork after
pulling it: if it smells of wine, the bottle is probably all right;
if it smells of cork, one has grounds for suspicion. Seasonal
rises or drops in temperature are bad for wine: they age it prematurely.
The ideal storage temperature for long periods is about fifty-five
degrees, with an allowable range of five degrees above or below
this, provided there are no sudden or frequent changes. Prolonged vibration
is also undesirable; consequently, one's wine closet or cellar
should be away from machines or electrically driven furnaces. If
one lives near a subway or an express parkway, the solution is to have
one's wines stored with a dealer and brought home a few at a time.
Light, especially daylight, is always bad for wine. All in
all, though, there is a good deal of nonsense expended over the preparations
thought necessary for ordinary wine drinking; many people go
to extreme lengths in decanting, chilling or warming, or banishing without
further investigation any bottle with so much as a slightly suspicious
cork. No one should wish to deny these purists the obvious pleasure
they derive from all this, and to give fair warning where warning
is due, no one who becomes fond of wines ever avoids acquiring some degree
of purism! But the fact remains that in most restaurants, including
some of the best of Paris and Bordeaux and Dijon, the bottle
is frankly and simply brought from the cellar to the table when ordered,
and all the conditioning or preparation it ever receives takes place
while the chef is preparing the meal. A white wine, already at cool
cellar temperature, may be adequately chilled in a bucket of ice and
water or the freezing compartment of a refrigerator (the former is far
preferable) in about fifteen minutes; for those who live in a winter
climate, there is nothing better than a bucket of water and snow. Though
by no means an ideal procedure, a red wine may similarly be brought
from the cellar to the dining room and opened twenty minutes or so
before serving time. It may be a bit cold when poured; but again,
as one will have observed at any restaurant worth its salt, wine should
be served in a large, tulip-shaped glass, which is never filled more
than half full. In this way, red wine warms of itself quite rapidly-
and though it is true that it may not attain its potential of taste
and fragrance until after the middle of the meal (or the course), in
the meantime it will have run the gamut of many beguiling and interesting
stages. The only cardinal sin which may be committed in warming
a wine is to force it by putting it next to the stove or in front of an
open fire. This invariably effaces any wine's character, and drives
its fragrance underground. It should not be forgotten that
wines mature fastest in half-bottles, less fast in full bottles, slowly
in Magnums- and slower yet in Tregnums, double Magnums, Jeroboams,
Methuselahs, and Imperiales, respectively. Very old red wines
often require several hours of aeration, and any red wine, brought from
the cellar within half an hour of mealtime, should be uncorked and allowed
some air. But white wines never! White wines should be opened
when served, having been previously chilled in proportion to their
sweetness. Thus, Sauternes or Barsacs should be very cold; a Pouilly-Fuisse
or a Chablis somewhat less cold. Over-chilling is an accepted
method for covering up the faults of many a cheap or poor white
wine, especially a dry wine- and certainly less of a crime than serving
a wine at a temperature which reveals it as unattractive.
The fragrance and taste of any white wine will die a lingering death
when it is allowed to warm or is exposed for long to the air. To quote
Professor Saintsbury: "The last glass of claret or Burgundy
is as good as the first; but the first glass of Chateau d'Yquem
or Montrachet is a great deal better than the last"! This does not
mean, though, that a red wine improves with prolonged aeration: there
is a reasonable limit- and wines kept over to the next meal or
the next day, after they have once been opened, are never as good. If
this must be done, they should always be corked and kept in a cool place;
it should be remembered that their lasting qualities are appreciably
shorter than those of milk. A few red wines, notably those
of the Beaujolais, are better consumed at cellar temperature. By
tradition, a red wine should be served at approximately room temperature-
if anything a little cooler- and be aged enough for the tannin
and acids to have worked out and the sediment have settled well. Thus,
red wine must, if possible, never be disturbed or shaken; very old
red wine is often decanted so that the puckering, bitter elements which
have settled to the bottom will not be mingled with the wine itself.
A tug-of-war between an old bottle and an inefficient corkscrew may
do as much harm as a week at sea. The cork should be pulled gradually
and smoothly, and the lip of the bottle wiped afterward. Many
people use wicker cradles for old red wine, lifting the bottle carefully
from the bin into the cradle and eventually to the table, without
disturbing the sediment. Another school frowns on such a shortcut, and
insists that after leaving the bin an old red wine should first stand
on end for several days to allow the sediment to roll to the very bottom,
after which the bottle may be gently eased to a tilted position
on its side in the cradle. In France, when one wishes to entertain
at a restaurant and serve truly fine old red wines, one visits the
restaurant well ahead of time, chooses the wines and, with the advice
of the manager and his chef, builds the menu around them. The wine
waiter will see to it that the bottles are taken from the bin and opened
at least in time to warm and aerate, preferably allowed to stand on
end for as long as possible and, perhaps in the case of very old wines,
be decanted. Decanting old wine aerates it fully; it may also be-
practically speaking- a matter of good economy. For, in the process
of decanting, the bottle is only tilted once instead of several
or more times at the table: hence, a minimum of the undesirable mixture
of wine and dregs. Though there are many exceptions, which
we have noted in preceding pages, white wine is as a rule best consumed
between two and six years old, and red wines, nowadays, between three
and ten. Red wines of good years tend to mature later and to keep
longer; the average claret is notably longer-lived than its opposite
number, red Burgundy. Some clarets do not come into their own until
they are ten or fifteen years of age, or even more. If a red Bordeaux
of a good name and year is bitter or acid, or cloying and muddy-tasting,
leave it alone for a while. Most of the wines of Beaujolais, on
the other hand, <should> be drunk while very young; and Alsatians
<may> be.
Giffen replied punctually and enthusiastically: "Rest assured that
your accompanying Letter of Instructions shall be in the Letter
and Spirit strictly complied with **h and most particularly in regard
to that part of them relative to the completion of your noble and humane
views". Giffen lost no time in visiting the plantation.
The slaves appeared to be in good health and at work under John Palfrey's
overseer. An excellent crop was expected that year.
William,
who lived in neighboring St& Mary's parish, had taken charge and
decided that it would be best for all if the plantation were operated
for another year. Giffen advised acceptance of this plan, citing the
depressed market for land then prevailing and the large stock of provisions
at the plantation. If sold then, the land and improvements might
bring only $5,000. Early in January, 1844 he had a conference with
Henry and William in New Orleans, and upon learning of Gorham's
intention, Henry remonstrated calmly but firmly with his brother.
The emancipation plan would not only be injurious to all the heirs,
he contended, but would be a form of cruelty perpetrated on the hapless
Negroes. They were not capable of supporting themselves off the plantation,
and Louisiana law required their removal from the state. Gorham
refused to accept money for slave property, but did he realize how
much expense and trouble the transportation of his Negroes to the
North involved? The suggestion that Giffen hire out the slaves was
not realistic, since no planter would take the risk of having Negroes
who knew they were to be free living with his own slaves. Henry hid
his annoyance, although both he and William were furious with their
Yankee brother. William, who did not write to Gorham, told Giffen
that unless he could operate the plantation as usual for a year, he would
sue "amicably" to protect his interests. Palfrey was
determined
that his portion of the slaves be converted to wage laborers
during the transition period before emancipation. If William wished
to continue operations for a year, why not simply leave the Negroes
undisturbed and pay them "as high wages to remain there as are ever
paid the labor of persons of their sex + age. A disposition to exert
themselves for my benefit would perhaps be a motive with some of them
**h to come into the scheme. Their having family ties on our plantation
+ the adjoining one would be a stronger inducement". When he heard
of his brothers' anger, Palfrey was still hopeful that they could
be persuaded to accept his notion of paying wages. If not, he was willing
to accede to William's wishes in any way that did not block
his ultimate aim. William was adamant on one point: under no circumstances
would he allow the Negroes to remain on the plantation with his
and Henry's slaves if they were told of their coming freedom. Knowing
the antipathy that existed in Louisiana against increasing the
number of free Negroes, Giffen suggested that Palfrey bring them
to Boston at once, and then send them on to Liberia. Lacking specific
instructions, he agreed to William's condition. In March
there was a division of the slaves, and Giffen carried out his instructions
as nearly as possible. Of the fifty-two slaves, Giffen succeeded
in getting a lot of twenty, twelve of whom were females. "I considered
that your views would be best carried out", he explained,
"by taking women whose progeny will of course be free + more fully extend
the philantrophy of Emancipation. I have also taken the old servants
of your father as a matter of Conscience + Justice". The ages
of the slaves ranged from sixty-five, for an old house servant, to
an unnamed newborn child. If Palfrey ever had any doubts about the
wickedness of slavery, they were put aside after he received an inventory
of the slave property he had inherited. This cold reckoning of human
worth in a legal paper, devoid of compassion or humanity, was all
he needed. Each human being, known only by a given name, had a cash value.
Old Sam's sixty-five years had reduced his value to $150;
Rose, a twelve-year-old with child-bearing potential, was worth $400.
In rejecting any claim to the value of the slave property, Palfrey
was giving up close to $7,000. Palfrey's brothers each received
lots of sixteen Negroes, and for bookkeeping purposes it was agreed
that all lots were to be valued at $6,666.66. Thus twenty "black
souls" were to remain ignorant of their imminent journey to the land
of free men. Giffen extracted one concession from William: the house
servants could be free at any time Gorham thought expedient.

Despite Giffen's warning, Palfrey still had plans for freeing

his slaves in Louisiana. Yet even if he could get the necessary approval,
fourteen of his Negroes could not be manumitted without special
permission. According to state law a slave had to be at least thirty
years old before he could be freed. Palfrey petitioned the state legislature
to waive the requirement. Otherwise, freedom would mean removal
from the state in which "as the place of their past residence from
birth, or for many years, it would **h be materially for their advantage
to be at liberty to remain". On March 11 the Louisiana legislature
voted unanimously to table the petition. News of the legislative
veto appeared in the New Orleans papers, and Henry and William
became incensed by the fact that they had not been told of the attempt
in advance. Henry stormed into Giffen's office waving a copy of
the New Orleans <Courier,> shouting that the emancipation scheme
had become a public affair, and that it would reach the "Ears of the
People on the Plantation, and make them restless + unhappy".

His brothers' anger caused Palfrey genuine concern, for he had

imposed a dual mission upon himself: to free his slaves, and to keep
the family from falling apart over the issue. When Giffen decided
to charge him interest on the loan from John Palfrey, Gorham readily
assented, vowing that in a matter of dollars and cents, his brothers
would never have any cause to complain of him. in view of these
difficulties, Palfrey decided to go to Louisiana. Giffen had already
urged him to journey south, if only for a few days to clear up matters.
His duties as Massachusetts Secretary of State obliged him
to wait until the adjournment of the legislature in mid-April. Palfrey
told his wife of his intentions for the first time, and left for New
Orleans apprehensively invoking a special blessing of Providence
that he might be allowed to see his family again. During his journey
Palfrey stopped off to see two abolitionists. In both cases he
desired information about placing the freedmen in homes once they arrived
in the North. In New York, Lydia Maria Child welcomed him
enthusiastically: "I have lately heard of you from the Legislature
of Louisiana, and felt joy at your public recognition of the brotherhood
of man". Mrs& Child, who had once apologized for sending
editor Palfrey a book on slavery, now confided that she had helped one
of Henry Palfrey's slaves escape to Canada some years before,
but asked him not to advertise the fact in Louisiana. She agreed to
take charge of five or six of the Negroes should Palfrey decide to send
them north immediately. At Lexington, Kentucky, Palfrey consulted
with Cassius M& Clay on the same subject, but with no apparent
result. Despite his apprehensions about his personal safety,
Palfrey's reception in New Orleans was more than cordial. Instead
of the expected "annoyances" due to the nature of his mission,
he received many calling cards and invitations from "gentlemen of mark,
on whom I had no sort of claim, + have had many more invitations
than I could accept". He later told abolitionist Edmund Quincy of
the "marked attention and civility" with which the New Orleans
gentlemen and the upriver planters greeted him. The memory of this southern
hospitality did not survive the trials of coming antislavery years
and Civil War. Palfrey's autobiography contains a melodramatic
account of two perilous days spent among the planters of Attakapas,
"many of whom were coarse + passionate people, much excited by what
they heard of my plans". He proceeded with his task bravely- in
his memoirs, at least- before the "passions of my neighbors should
have time to boil too high". Palfrey had already made up his
mind that he would allow the men, but not the women, to choose freely
whether or not to go North for freedom. The women by remaining behind
condemned their children, born and unborn, to bondage. He had a
short private talk with each adult slave. Only one objected, but Palfrey
soon convinced him that he ought to go with the others. All the
slaves joined in requesting that they be allowed to delay their departure
until the end of the planting season, so that they could get in "their
own little produce". Palfrey agreed; the slaves were to remain
as wage laborers for his account. William's threat that under
no conditions would he allow "freedom-conscious" slaves to mix with
his own was not carried out, for the plantation continued in operation
as before. Palfrey returned to Massachusetts greatly relieved to
have made an arrangement "so satisfactory to my judgment + my conscience".

From Cambridge, Palfrey maintained a close interest

in the welfare of his slaves. In fact, as the time for their departure
approached, his solicitousness increased. Should any slave change
his mind and request to leave earlier, Giffen was to provide passage
at once. When a sailing date of March, 1845 was finally
established,
Palfrey made sure that the Negroes would have comfortable quarters
in New Orleans and aboard ship. Giffen assured him that the captain
and his mate had personally promised to treat the Negroes with consideration.
Palfrey was also concerned about the question of what wage
to pay for their labor throughout 1844. The plantation was sold in January,
1845, and Palfrey thought the new owner ought to pay his people
two months' wages. Giffen suggested fifty dollars as fair compensation
for a year's work; the new owner at Attakapas declined to
enter into any philanthropic arrangement. On March 21, 1845 the
bark <Bashaw> weighed anchor at New Orleans, while on the levee
Henry and William Palfrey waved farewell to their father's former
chattels who must have looked back at the receding shore with mingled
regret and jubilation. Not all of Palfrey's slaves were
aboard the <Bashaw>. Giffen had advised that it would not be too difficult
to obtain freedom locally for the old house servants. Two of
these were included in Palfrey's lot. Giffen filed a petition for
permission to emancipate four slaves (all more than fifty years old)
with the St& Martin's Parish Police Jury. After an initial rejection,
which he attributed to a "general Excitement against Abolition
and Emancipation", Giffen bribed the right individuals on the
jury, and got the permission without further delay. When the
Negroes landed at Boston a month later they were, of course, no longer
slaves. Slavery was prohibited in Massachusetts by the terms of
the constitution of 1780, which declared "all men are born free and
equal". Nevertheless, Palfrey arranged a religious ceremony at King's
Chapel to formalize the emancipation. An eyewitness recalled
how awkward the red-turbaned colored women appeared as they curtseyed
in the church doorway, and the diffidence the former slaves displayed
while they listened to the few words that declared them free.

Once the question of emancipation was settled to Palfrey's satisfaction,

he faced a real problem in placing the freedmen in suitable homes
as servants. Palfrey tried fruitlessly to place a Negro boy in
the Hopedale Community, but he had better luck in his other attempts.
Mrs& Child, true to her word, helped place Anna and her four children
with a Quaker
family named Hathaway near Canandaigua, New York.
This group had been Palfrey's greatest worry since Anna was
in bad health, and her children were too young to work for their keep.

But certainly the New Frontier has brought to Washington a

group more varied in background and interest. Secretary of State Dean
Rusk, a former Rhodes Scholar and Mills College dean, has headed
the Rockefeller Foundation and in that role expended large sums for
international cultural exchange. One of his initial acts in office
was to appoint Philip Coombs of the Ford Foundation as the first
Assistant Secretary of State for Educational and Cultural Affairs.
("In the late forties and fifties", Coombs has declared in defining
his role, "two strong new arms were added to reinforce United
States foreign policy **h economic assistance and military assistance.
As we embark upon the sixties we have an opportunity **h to build
a third strong arm, aimed at the development of people, at the fuller
realization of their creative human potential, and at better understanding
among them".) Many of the new appointees are art collectors.
Ambassador-at-Large Averell Harriman has returned to the capital
with a collection of paintings that include Renoir, Cezanne, Gauguin,
Van Gogh, Toulouse-Lautrec, Degas, Matisse, Picasso, and
Walt Kuhn. The Director of the Peace Corps, R& Sargent Shriver,
Jr&, a Kennedy brother-in-law, collects heavily among the moderns,
including Kenzo Okada and Josef Albers. Secretary of the Treasury
Douglas Dillon owns a prize Monet, <Femmes dans un jardin>.

Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara, former President

of the Ford Motor Company, comes from a generation different from
that of Eisenhower's own first Secretary of Defense, Charles Wilson,
who had been head of General Motors. Unlike Wilson, who at
times seemed almost anti-intellectual in his earthy pragmatism. McNamara
is the scholar-businessman. An inveterate reader of books, he chose
while working in Detroit to live in the University community of
Ann Arbor, almost forty miles away. He selected as Comptroller of
Defense, not a veteran accountant, but a former Rhodes Scholar, Charles
Hitch, who is author of a study on <The Economics of Defense
in the Nuclear Age>. One of the President's special assistants,
the Harvard dean McGeorge Bundy, was co-author with Henry
L& Stimson of the latter's classic memoir, <On Active Service>.
Another, Arthur M& Schlesinger, Jr&, has won a Pulitzer
Prize in history; his wife, Marion, is a portrait painter. The
Press Secretary, Pierre Salinger, was a child prodigy as a pianist.
("It is always of sorrow to me when I find people who **h neither
know nor understand music", he declared not long ago in proposing
that White House prizes be awarded for music and art.) Mrs& Arthur
Goldberg, wife of the Secretary of Labor, paints professionally
and helps sponsor the Associated Artists' Gallery in the District
of Columbia. ("Artists are always at a new frontier", she claims.
"In fact, the search is almost more important than the find".)
Mrs& Henry Labouisse, wife of the new director of the foreign
aid program, is the writer and lecturer Eve Curie. The list
goes on. At last count, sixteen former Rhodes Scholars (see box on
page 13) had been appointed to the Administration, second in number
only to its Harvard graduates. Besides Schlesinger, the Justice Department's
Information Director, Edwin Guthman, has won a Pulitzer
Prize (for national reporting). Postmaster General J& Edward
Day, who must deal with matters of postal censorship, is himself
author of a novel, <Bartholf Street,> albeit one he was obliged to
publish
at his own expense. Two men show promise of playing prominent
roles: William Walton, a writer-turned-painter, has
been a long-time friend of the President. They arrived in Washington
about the same time during the early postwar years: Kennedy as the
young Congressman from Massachusetts; Walton, after a wartime stint
with <Time-Life>, to become bureau chief for the <New Republic>.
Both lived in Georgetown, were unattached, and shared an active
social life. Walton, who soon made a break from journalism to become
one of the capital's leading semi-abstract painters, vows that he
and Kennedy never once discussed art in those days. Nonetheless, they
found common interests. During last year's campaign, Kennedy asked
Walton, an utter novice in organization politics, to assist him.
Walton dropped everything to serve as a district co-ordinator in the
hard-fought Wisconsin primary and proved so useful that he was promoted
to be liaison officer to critically important New York City.

Walton, who served as a correspondent with General James Gavin's

paratroopers during the invasion of France, combines the soul
of an artist with the lingo of a tough guy. He provoked outraged editorials
when, after a post-Inaugural inspection of the White House
with Mrs& Kennedy, he remarked to reporters, "We just cased the
joint to see what was there". But his credentials are impeccable.
Already the President and the First Lady have deputized him to advise
on matters ranging from the furnishing of the White House to the
renovation of Lafayette Square. A man of great talent, he will continue
to serve as a sort of Presidential trouble-shooter, strictly ex
officio, for culture. A more official representative is the Secretary
of the Interior. Udall, who comes from one of the Mormon
first-families of Arizona, is a bluff, plain-spoken man with a lust
for politics and a habit of landing right in the middle of the fight.
But even while sparring furiously with Republican politicians, he displays
a deep and awesome veneration for anyone with cultural attainments.
His private dining room has become a way station for visiting intellectuals
such as C& P& Snow, Arnold Toynbee, and Aaron Copland.

Udall argues that Interior affairs should cover a great

deal more than dams and wildlife preserves. After promoting Frost's
appearance at the Inauguration, he persuaded the poet to return
several months later to give a reading to a select audience of Cabinet
members, members of Congress, and other Washington notables gathered
in the State Department auditorium. The event was so successful
that the Interior Secretary plans to serve as impresario for similar
ones from time to time, hoping thereby to add to the cultural enrichment
of the Administration. His Ideas in this respect, however,
sometimes arouse critical response. One tempest was stirred up last
March when Udall announced that an eight-and-a-half-foot bronze statue
of William Jennings Bryan, sculpted by the late Gutzon Borglum,
would be sent "on indefinite loan" to Salem, Illinois, Bryan's
birthplace. Spokesmen for the nation's tradition-minded sculptors
promptly claimed that Udall was exiling the statue because of his
own hostility to this art form. They dug up a speech he had made two
years earlier as a Congressman, decrying the more than two hundred
statues, monuments, and memorials which "dot the Washington landscape
**h as patriotic societies and zealous friends are constantly hatching
new plans". Hoping to cut down on such works, Udall had proposed
that a politician be at least fifty years departed before he is memorialized.

He is not likely to win this battle easily. In the

case of the Borglum statue an Interior aide was obliged to announce
that there had been a misunderstanding and that the Secretary had no
desire to "hustle" it out of Washington. The last Congress adopted
seven bills for memorials, including one to Taras Shevchenko,
the Ukrainian poet laureate; eleven others were introduced. Active
warfare is raging between the forces pressing for a monument to the first
Roosevelt on Theodore Roosevelt Island in the Potomac, and T&
R&'s own living children, who wish to preserve the island as
a wildlife sanctuary. The hotly debated plan for the capital's Franklin
D& Roosevelt Memorial, a circle of huge tablets engraved with
his speeches (and promptly dubbed by one of its critics, "Instant
Stonehenge"), is another of Udall's headaches, since as supervisor
of the National Parks Commission he will share in the responsibility
for building it. "Washington", President Kennedy
has been heard to remark ironically, "is a city of southern efficiency
and northern charm". There have been indications that he hopes
to redress that situation, commencing with the White House. One of
Mrs& Kennedy's initial concerns as First Lady was the sad state
of the furnishings in a building which is supposed to be a national
shrine. Ever since the fire of 1812 destroyed the beautiful furniture
assembled by President Thomas Jefferson, the White House has collected
a hodgepodge of period pieces, few of them authentic or aesthetic.

Mrs& Kennedy shows a determination to change all this.

Not long after moving in she turned up a richly carved desk, hewed from
the timbers of the British ship H&M&S& <Resolute> and
presented to
President Hayes by Queen Victoria. It now serves the President
in his oval office. Later, browsing in an old issue of the
<Gazette des Beaux-Arts,> she found a description of a handsome gilt
pier-table purchased in 1817 by President James Monroe. She traced
it to a storage room. With its coating of gold radiator paint removed-
a gaucherie of some earlier tenant- it will now occupy its
rightful place in the oval Blue Room on the first floor of the White
House. But it soon became clear that the search for eighteenth-century
furniture (which Mrs& Kennedy feels is the proper period
for
the White House) must be pursued in places other than government storage
rooms.
The First Lady appointed a Fine Arts Advisory Committee
for the White House, to locate authentic pieces as well as to arrange
ways to acquire them. Her effort to put the home of living Presidents
on the same basis as Mount Vernon and Monticello recognizes
no party lines. By rough estimate her Committee, headed by Henry
Francis Du Pont, contains three times as many Republicans as Democrats.

The press releases emanating from the White House give

a clue to the activity within. A curator has been appointed. A valuable
pencil-and-sepia allegorical drawing of Benjamin Franklin by Jean-Honore
Fragonard has been donated by the art dealer Georges Wildenstein
and now hangs in the Blue Room. The American Institute
of Interior Designers is redecorating the White House library. Secretary
and Mrs& Dillon have contributed enough pieces of Empire
furniture, including Dolley Madison's own sofa, to furnish a room
in that style. And part of a fabulous collection of <vermeil> hollowware,
bequeathed to the White House by the late Mrs& Margaret
Thompson Biddle, has been taken out of its locked cases and put on display
in the State dining room. Woman's place is in the home:
man must attend to matters of the yard. One of the vexatious problems
to first confront President Kennedy was the property lying just
across Pennsylvania Avenue from the White House. Congress had
already appropriated money, and plans were well along to tear down the
buildings flanking Lafayette Square and replace them with what one
critic calls the "marble monumentality" of government office buildings.
While a Senator, Kennedy had unsuccessfully pushed a bill to
preserve the Belasco Theater, as well as the Dolley Madison and the
Benjamin Taylor houses, all scheduled for razing. What to
do about it now that he was President? Only a few days after moving
into the White House. Kennedy made a midnight inspection of the Square.
Then he called in his friend Walton and turned over the problem
to him, with instructions to work out what was best- provided it
didn't pile unnecessary burdens on the President. The situation
involved some political perils. One of the offices slated for reconstruction
is the aged Court of Claims, diagonally across the street
from the White House. Logically, it should be moved downtown. But
Judge Marvin Jones, senior member of the Court, is an elderly
gentleman who lives at the nearby Metropolitan Club and desires to walk
to work. More importantly, he also happens to be the brother-in-law
of Sam Rayburn, Speaker of the House. There were aesthetic
problems as well as political. On delving deeper, Walton discovered
that most of the buildings fronting the Square could be classified
as "early nondescript". The old Belasco Theater, over which many
people had grown sentimental, was only a shell of its former self
after arduous years as a ~USO Center. The Dolley Madison House,
Walton concluded, was scarcely worth preserving. "The attempt
to save the Square's historic value", he declares, "came half a
century too late".
Surrounded by ancient elms, the campus is spacious and beautiful. The
buildings are mostly Georgian. The Dartmouth student does not live
in monastic seclusion, as he once did. But his is still a simple life
relatively free of the female presence or influence, and he must go
far, even though he may go fast, for sophisticated pleasures. He is
still heir to the rare gifts of space and silence, if he chooses to be.

He is by no means the country boy he might have been in the

last century, down from the hills with bear grease on his hair and a zeal
for book learning in his heart. The men's shops on Hanover's
Main Street compare favorably with those in Princeton and New Haven.
And the automobiles that stream out of Hanover each weekend,
toward Smith and Wellesley and Mount Holyoke, are no less rakish than
those leaving Cambridge or West Philadelphia. But there has
always been an outdoor air to Dartmouth. The would-be sophisticate
and the citybred youth adopt this air without embarrassment. No one
here pokes fun at manly virtues. And this gives rise to an easy camaraderie
probably unequaled elsewhere in the Ivy League. It even affects
the faculty. Thus, when Dartmouth's Winter Carnival-
widely recognized as the greatest, wildest, roaringest college weekend
anywhere, any time- was broadcast over a national television hookup,
Prexy John Sloan Dickey appeared on the screen in rugged winter
garb, topped off by a tam-o'-shanter which he confessed had been
acquired from a Smith girl. President Dickey's golden retriever,
frolicking in the snow at his feet, added to the picture of masculine
informality. This carefree disdain for "side" cropped up
again in the same television broadcast. Dean Thaddeus Seymour, wearing
ski clothes, was crowning a beauteous damsel queen of the Carnival.
She must have looked temptingly pretty to the dean as he put the crown
on her head. So he kissed her. No Dartmouth man was surprised.

Dartmouth students enjoy other unusual diversions with equal

<sang-froid>. For example, groups regularly canoe down the Connecticut
River. This is in honor of John Ledyard, class of 1773, who scooped
a canoe out of a handy tree and first set the course way back in
his own student days. And these hardy travelers are not unappreciated
today. They are hailed by the nation's press, and Smith girls throng
the riverbanks at Northampton and refresh the <voyageurs> with
hot soup and kisses. Dartmouth's favorite and most characteristic
recreation is skiing. Since the days when their two thousand
pairs of skis outnumbered those assembled anywhere else in the United
States, the students have stopped regarding the Olympic Ski Team
as another name for their own. Yet Dartmouth still is the dominant
member of the Intercollegiate Ski Union, which includes the winter
sports colleges of Canada as well as those of this country. Dartmouth
students ski everywhere in winter, starting with their own front
door. They can hire a horse and go ski-joring behind him, or move
out to Oak Hill, where there's a lift. The Dartmouth Skiway,
at Holt's Ledge, ten miles north of the campus, has one of the best
terrains in the East, ranging from novice to expert. Forty
miles farther north is Mount Moosilauke, Dartmouth's own mountain.
Here, at the Ravine Lodge, President Dickey acts as host every
year to about a hundred freshmen who are being introduced by the Dartmouth
Outing Club to life on the trails. The Lodge, built of hand-hewn
virgin spruce, can handle fifty people for dining, sleeping, or
lounging in its huge living room. The Outing Club also owns a chain
of fourteen cabins and several shelters, extending from the Vermont
hills, just across the river from the college, through Hanover to the
College Grant- 27,000 acres of wilderness 140 miles north up in
the logging country. The cabins are equipped with bunks, blankets,
and cooking equipment and are ideal bases for hikes and skiing trips.
The club runs regular trips to the cabins, but many of the students
prefer to take off in small unofficial groups for a weekend of hunting,
fishing, climbing, or skiing. Under the auspices of the Outing
Club, Dartmouth also has the Mountaineering Club, which takes
on tough climbs like Mount McKinley, and Bait + Bullet, whose interests
are self-evident, and even sports a Woodman's Team, which
competes with other New England colleges in wood sawing and
chopping,
canoe races, and the like. There is much to be said for a college
that, while happily attuned to the sophisticated Ivies, still gives
its students a chance to get up early in the morning and drive along
back roads where a glimpse of small game, deer, or even bear is not
uncommon. City boys find a lot of learning in the feel of an ax handle
or in the sharp tang of a sawmill, come upon suddenly in a backwoods
logging camp. And on the summit of Mount Washington, where thirty-five
degrees below zero is commonplace and the wind velocity has registered
higher than anywhere else in the world, there is a kind of wisdom
to be found that other men often seek in the Himalayas "because
it is there". There is much to be said for such a college-
and Dartmouth men have been accused of saying it too often and too
loudly. Their affection for their college home has even caused President
Dickey to comment on this "place loyalty" as something rather
specially Hanoverian. Probably a lawyer once said it best for
all time in the Supreme Court of the United States. Early in the
nineteenth century the State of New Hampshire was casting about
for a way to found its own state university. It fixed on Dartmouth College,
which was ready-made and just what the proctor ordered. The
legislators decided to "liberate" Dartmouth and entered into a tug-o'-war
with the college trustees over the control of classrooms, faculty,
and chapel. For a time there were two factions on the campus
fighting for possession of the student body. The struggle was
resolved in 1819 in the Supreme Court in one of the most intriguing
cases in our judicial history. In 1817 the lawyers were generally debating
the legal inviolability of private contracts and charters. A lawyer,
hired by the college, was arguing specifically for Dartmouth:
Daniel Webster, class of 1801, made her plight the dramatic focus
of his whole plea. In an age of oratory, he was the king of orators,
and both he himself and Chief Justice Marshall were bathed in manly
tears, as Uncle Dan'l reached his thundering climax: "It
is, sir, as I have said, a small college, and yet there are those
who love it **h". Dartmouth is today still a small college-
and still a private one, thanks to Webster's eloquence. This
is not out of keeping with its origins, probably the most humble of
any in the Ivy group. Eleazar Wheelock, a Presbyterian minister,
founded the school in 1769, naming it after the second earl of Dartmouth,
its sponsor and benefactor. Eleazar, pausing on the Hanover plain,
found its great forests and remoteness good and with his own hands
built the first College Hall, a log hut dedicated "for the education
+ instruction of Youth of the Indian Tribes in this Land in reading,
writing + all parts of learning which shall appear necessary and
expedient for civilizing + christianizing Children of Pagans as well
as in all liberal Arts and Sciences; and also of English Youth
and any others". It was a hardy undertaking, and Wheelock's
was indeed "a voice crying in the wilderness". A road had to
be
hacked through trackless forests between Hanover and Portsmouth to
permit Governor Wentworth and a company of gentlemen to attend the first
Dartmouth commencement in 1771. The governor and his retinue thoughtfully
brought with them a glorious silver punchbowl which is still
one of the cherished possessions of the college. The exuberance
on this occasion set a standard for subsequent Dartmouth gatherings.
A student orator "produced tears from a great number of the learned"
even before the punch was served. Then from the branches of a
near-by tree an Indian underclassman, disdaining both the platform and
the English language, harangued the assemblage in his aboriginal tongue.
Governor Wentworth contributed an ox for a barbecue on the green
beneath the three-hundred-foot pines, and a barrel of rum was broached.
The cook got drunk, and President Wheelock proved to be a man
of broad talents by carving the ox himself. Future commencements
were more decorous perhaps, but the number of graduates increased
from the original four at a relatively slow pace. By the end of the
nineteenth
century, in 1893, when the Big Three, Columbia, and Penn
were populous centers of learning, Dartmouth graduated only sixty-nine.
The dormitories, including the beloved Dartmouth Hall, could barely
house two hundred students in Spartan fashion. Then in 1893
Dr& William Jewett Tucker became president and the college's
great awakening began. He transformed Dartmouth from a small New
Hampshire institution into a national college. By 1907 the number of
undergraduates had risen to 1,107. And at his last commencement, in
that year, Dr& Tucker and Dartmouth were honored by the presence
of distinguished academic visitors attesting to the new stature of the
college. The presidents of Cornell, Wisconsin, C&C&N&Y&,
Bowdoin, Vermont, Brown, Columbia, Princeton, Yale, and Harvard
and the presidents emeritus of Harvard and Michigan were there.

Dartmouth is numerically still a small college today, with approximately

twenty-nine hundred undergraduates. But it has achieved a
cross-section of students from almost all the states, and two-thirds of
its undergraduates come from outside New England. Over 450 different
schools are usually represented in each entering class. Only a dozen
or so schools send as many as six students, and there are seldom more
than fifteen men in any single delegation. About two-thirds of the
boys now come from public schools. It is still a college only
and not a university; it is, in fact, the only college in the Ivy
group. However, three distinguished associated graduate schools offer
professional curriculums- the Dartmouth Medical School (third oldest
in the country and founded in 1797), the Thayer School of Engineering,
and the Amos Tuck School of Business Administration. All
three are purposely kept small, with a current total enrollment of
about two hundred. All three schools coordinate their educational
programs with that of the undergraduate college and, like the college
proper,
place emphasis upon a broad liberal arts course as the proper foundation
for specialized study. Students of the college who are candidates
for the A&B& degree and can satisfy the academic requirements
of the medical and business schools, may enter either of these associated
schools at the beginning of senior year, thus completing the
two-year postgraduate course in one year. The Thayer School offers
a year of postgraduate study in somewhat the same way, after a boy wins
a B&S& in engineering. So Dartmouth is moving closer
to the others in the Ivy group. It is still, however, the junior member
of the League, if not in years at least in the catching up it has
had to do. It has not been a well-known school for any part of the span
the other Ivies have enjoyed. However much football has been over-emphasized,
the public likes to measure its collegiate favorites by
the scoreboard, so, while Yale need never give its record a thought again
since outscoring its opponents 694 to 0 in the season of 1888, Dartmouth
had to wait until its championship team of 1925 for national
recognition. It has come on with a rush in more significant areas.
Today it espouses certain ideas in its curriculum that other institutions
might consider somewhat breathtaking. But Dartmouth preserves
its youthful brashness even in its educational attitudes, and, although
some of its experiments may still be in the testing stage, they
make for lively copy. President Emeritus Hopkins once proposed
to corral an "aristocracy of brains" in Hanover.
The person who left the buggy there has never been identified. It was
a busy street, conveniently near the shopping center, and unattended
horses and wagons were often left at the curbside. There are,
of course, many weaknesses in any case against Emma. She didn't like
her stepmother, but nothing is known to have occurred shortly before
the crime that could have caused such a murderous rage. She had no
way of knowing in advance whether an opportunity for murder existed.
She would have been taking more than a fair risk of being seen and recognized
during her travels. If she avoided the train and hired a buggy,
the stableman might have recognized her. If police had checked on
her more thoroughly than is indicated, she would be completely eliminated
as a suspect. ##

Uncle John Vinnicum Morse was the immediate

popular suspect. His sudden unannounced appearance at the Borden
home was strange in that he did not carry an iota of baggage with him,
although he clearly intended to stay overnight, if not longer.

Lizzie stated during the inquest that while her father and uncle were
in the sitting room the afternoon before the murders, she had been
disturbed by their voices and had closed her door, even though it was
a very hot day. It is evident that Lizzie did not tell everything
she overheard between her father and her Uncle Morse. At that
time Jennings had a young law associate named Arthur S& Phillips.
A few years ago, not too long before his death, Phillips revealed
in a newspaper story that he had always suspected Morse of the murders.
He said Morse and Borden had quarreled violently in the house that
day, information which must have come from Lizzie. It was obviously
the sound of this argument that caused Lizzie to close her door.

The New Bedford <Standard-Times> has reported Knowlton

as saying, long after the trial, that if he only knew what Borden said
during his conversation with Morse, he would have convicted "somebody".
Notice, Knowlton did not say that he would have obtained a
conviction in the trial of Lizzie Borden. He said he would have convicted
"somebody". It is known that Morse did associate with
a group of itinerant horse traders who made their headquarters at
Westport, a town not far from Fall River. They were a vagabond lot
and considered to be shady and undesirable characters. Fall River police
did go to Westport to see if they could get any information against
Morse and possibly find an accomplice whom he might have hired from
among these men. These officers found no incriminating information.

Morse's alibi was not as solid as it seemed. He said he

returned from the visit to his niece on the 11:20 streetcar. The woman
in the house where the niece was staying backed up his story and said
she left when he did to shop for her dinner. Fall River is not a
fashionable town. The dinner hour there was twelve noon. If this woman
had delayed until after 11:20 to start her shopping, she would have
had little time in which to prepare the substantial meal that was
eaten at dinner in those days. It is possible that Morse told the woman
it was 11:20, but it could have been earlier, since she did serve
dinner on time. Police did make an attempt to check on Morse's alibi.
They interviewed the conductor of the streetcar Morse said he
had taken, but the man did not remember Morse as a passenger. Questioned
further, Morse said that there had been four or five priests riding
on the same car with him. The conductor did recall having priests
as passengers and this satisfied police, although the conductor also
pointed out that in heavily Catholic Fall River there were priests
riding on almost every trip the streetcar made, so Morse's statement
really proved nothing. We do know that Morse left the house
before nine o'clock. Bridget testified she saw him leave through the
side door. Morse said Borden let him out and locked the screen door.
From that point on he said he went to the post office and then walked
leisurely to where his niece was staying, more than a mile away.
He met nobody he knew on this walk. There is no accounting of his movements
in this long gap of time which covers the early hours when Mrs&
Borden was killed. Morse testified that while he was having
breakfast in the dining room, Mrs& Borden told the servant, "Bridget,
I want you to wash these windows today". Bridget's testimony
was in direct contradiction. She said it was after she returned
from her vomiting spell in the back yard that Mrs& Borden told
her to wash the windows. This was long after Morse had left the house.

Morse's knowledge of what Mrs& Borden told Bridget could

indicate that he had returned secretly to the house and was hidden
there. He knew the house fairly well, he had been there on two previous
visits during the past three or four months alone. And despite Knowlton's
attempts to show that the house was locked up tighter than
a drum, this was not true. The screen door was unlocked for some ten
or fifteen minutes while Bridget was sick in the back. It was unlocked
all the time she was washing windows. Morse could have returned
openly while Bridget was sick in the back yard and gone up to the room
he had occupied. Mrs& Borden would not have been alarmed if she
saw Morse with an ax or hatchet in his hand. He had been to the farm
the previous day and he could have said they needed the ax or hatchet
at the farm. Mrs& Borden would have had no reason to disbelieve him
and he could have approached close enough to her to swing before she
could cry out. He could have left for Weybosset Street after her
murder and made it in plenty of time by using the streetcar. If
he took an earlier streetcar than the 11:20 on his return, he could
have arrived at the Borden house shortly after Mr& Borden came
home. With Lizzie in the barn, the screen door unlocked and Bridget
upstairs in her attic room, he would have had free and easy access to
the house. With the second murder over, he could have left, hidden the
weapon in some vacant lot or an abandoned cistern in the neighborhood.
His unconcerned stroll down the side of the house to a pear tree,
with crowds already gathering in front of the building and Sawyer guarding
the side door, was odd. There was no close examination of his
clothes for bloodstains, and certainly no scientific test was made of
them. And for a man who traveled around without any change of clothing,
a few more stains on his dark suit may very well have gone unnoticed.

The motive may have been the mysterious quarrel; there was
no financial gain for Morse in the murders. On the other side
of the ledger is the fact that he did see his niece and the woman with
whom she was staying. The time would have been shortly after the
murder of Mrs& Borden and they noticed nothing unusual in his behavior.
He said he had promised Mrs& Borden to return in time for dinner
and that was close to the time when he did turn up at the Borden
house. ##

What did Pearson say about Bridget Sullivan as a possible

suspect in his trial-book essay? He wrote: "The
police soon ceased to look upon either Bridget or Mr& Morse as in
possession of guilty knowledge. Neither had any interest in the deaths;
indeed, it was probably to Mr& Morse's advantage to have
Mr& and Mrs& Borden alive. Both he and Bridget were exonerated
by Lizzie herself". That was his complete discussion of Bridget
Sullivan as a possible suspect. Although Pearson disbelieved
almost everything Lizzie said, and read a sinister purpose into almost
everything she did, he happily accepted her statement about Bridget
as the whole truth. He felt nothing further need be said about the
servant girl. The exoneration Pearson speaks of is not an exoneration,
but Lizzie's expression of her opinion, as reported in the
testimony of Assistant Marshal Fleet. This officer had asked Lizzie
if she suspected her Uncle Morse, and she replied she didn't
think he did it because he left the house before the murders and returned
after them. Fleet asked the same question about Bridget, and Lizzie
pointed out that as far as she knew Bridget had gone up to her
room
before her father's murder and came down when she called her.

Lizzie, actually, never named any suspect. She told police about
the prospective tenant she had heard quarreling with her father some
weeks before the murders, but she said she thought he was from out of
town because she heard him mention something about talking to his partner.
And, much as she detested Hiram Harrington, she also did not
accuse him. At the inquest she was asked specifically whether she knew
anybody her father had bad feelings toward, or who had bad feelings
toward
her father. She replied, "I know of one man that has not been
friendly with him. They have not been friendly for years". Asked
who this was, she named Harrington. Her statement certainly was true;
the press reported the same facts in using Harrington's interview,
but Lizzie did not suggest at the inquest that Harrington was the
killer. When I interviewed Kirby, who as a boy picked up pears
in the Borden yard, I asked if anybody else in the household besides
Lizzie and Morse had been under any suspicion at the time of the
murders. He said he had not heard of anybody else. "How about Bridget
Sullivan"? I inquired. "Oh, she was just the maid there",
he replied, waving a hand to indicate how completely unimportant
she was. Kirby was, of course, reflecting the opinion that existed
at the time of the murders. Everyone somehow manages to overlook
completely the fact that, as far as we know, there were exactly two
people in and about the house at the time of both murders: Lizzie
Borden and Bridget Sullivan. All the officials on the case
seem to have been afflicted with a similar myopia as far as Bridget was
concerned, although records in police files contain many reports of
servants who have murdered their employers. True, it is no longer cricket
for the butler to be the killer in mystery fiction, but we are dealing
here with actual people in real life and not imaginary characters
and situations. The actions of Bridget should be examined,
since she was there and opportunity did exist, if only to establish her
innocence. There are also other factors that require closer examination.

The legend as it exists in Fall River today always includes

the solemn assurance that Bridget returned to Ireland after the
trial with a "big bundle" of cash which Lizzie gave her for keeping
her mouth shut. The people who believe and retell the legend have
apparently never troubled to read the trial testimony and do not know
that the maid changed her testimony on several key points, always to
the detriment of Lizzie. If Bridget did get any bundles of cash,
the last person who would have rewarded her for services rendered would
have been Lizzie Borden. Bridget was born in Ireland, one
of fourteen children. She was apparently the pioneer in her family because
she had no close relatives in this country at that time. She worked
as a domestic, first in Newport for a year, and then in South
Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, for another year. She finally settled in Fall
River and, after being employed for a time by a Mrs& Reed, was
hired by the Bordens. I have previously described how, during
the week of the murder, Bridget spent the first few hot days scrubbing
and ironing clothes.
Her father, James Upton, was the Upton mentioned by Hawthorne in
the famous introduction to the <Scarlet Letter> as one of those who
came into the old custom house to do business with him as the surveyor
of the port. A gentleman of the old school, Mr& Upton possessed
intellectual power, ample means, and withal, was a devoted Christian.
The daughter profited from his interest in scientific and philosophical
subjects. Her mother also was a person of superior mind and broad
interests. There is clear evidence that Lucy from childhood
had an unusual mind. She possessed an observant eye, a retentive memory,
and a critical faculty. When she was nine years old, she wrote
a description of a store she had visited. She named 48 items, and said
there were "many more things which it would take too long to write".
An essay on "Freedom" written at 10 years of age quoted the
Declaration of Independence, the freedom given to slaves in Canada,
and the views of George Washington. Lucy Upton was graduated
from the Salem High School when few colleges, only Oberlin and
Elmira, were open to women; and she had an appetite for learning
that could not be denied. A picture of her in high school comes
from a younger schoolmate, Albert S& Flint, friend of her brother
Winslow, and later, like Winslow, a noted astronomer. He recalled
Lucy, as "a bright-looking black-eyed young lady who came regularly
through the boys' study hall to join the class in Greek in the little
recitation room beyond". The study of Greek was the distinctive
mark of boys destined to go to college, and Lucy Upton too expected
to go to college and take the full classical course offered to men.
The death of her mother in 1865 prevented this. With four younger
children at home, Lucy stepped into her mother's role, and even after
the brothers and sisters were grown, she was her father's comfort
and stay until he died in 1879. But even so Lucy could not give up
her intellectual pursuits. When her brother Winslow became a student
at Brown University in 1874, she wrote him about a course in history
he was taking under Professor Diman: "What is Prof& Diman's
definition of civilization, and take the world through, is its progress
ever onward, or does it retrograde at times? Do you think I
might profitably study some of the history you do, perhaps two weeks
behind you **h". And that she proceeded to do. Many years later
(on August 3, 1915), Lucy Upton wrote Winslow's daughter soon
to be graduated from Smith College: "While I love botany which,
after dabbling in for years, I studied according to the methods
of that day exactly forty years ago in a summer school, it must be fascinating
to take up zoology in the way you are doing. Whatever was the
science in the high school course for the time being, that was my favorite
study. Mathematics came next". Her study of history
was persistently pursued. She read Maitland's <Dark Ages>, "which
I enjoyed very much"; La Croix on the <Customs of the Middle
Ages>; 16 chapters of Bryce "and liked it more and more";
more chapters of Guizot; Lecky and Stanley's <Eastern Church>.
She discussed in her letters to Winslow some of the questions
that came to her as she studied alone. Lucy's correspondence
with brother Winslow during his college days was not entirely taken
up with academic studies. She played chess with him by postcard.
Also Lucy and Winslow had a private contest to see which one could
make the most words from the letters in "importunately". Who won
is not revealed, but Winslow's daughter Eleanor says they got up to
1,212 words. There was another family interest also. Winslow
had musical talents, as had his father before him. At different times
he served as glee-club and choir leader and as organist. And it was
Lucy Upton who first started the idea of a regular course in Music
at Spelman College. Winslow Upton after graduation from Brown
University and two years of graduate study, accepted a position
at the Harvard Observatory. For three years he was connected with
the U&S& Naval Observatory and with the U&S& Signal Corps;
and after 1883, was professor of astronomy at Brown University.
The six expeditions to study eclipses of the sun, of which he was
a member, took him to Colorado, Virginia, and California as well as
to the South Pacific and to Russia. After her father's death, Lucy
and her youngest sister lived for a few years with Winslow in Washington,
D&C&. "Their house", writes Albert S& Flint,
"was always a haven of hospitality and good cheer, especially grateful
to one like myself far from home". Lucy was a lively part of the
household. Moreover, she had physical as well as mental vigor. Winslow,
as his daughters Eleanor and Margaret recall, used to characterize
her as "our iron sister". There is reason to suppose that Lucy
would have made a record as publicly distinguished as her brother
had it not been that her mother's death occurred just as she was about
to enter college. As a matter of fact, Albert S& Flint expressed
his conviction that "her physical strength, her mental power, her
lively interest in all objects about her and her readiness to serve
her fellow beings" would have led her "to a distinguished career
amongst the noted women of this country". While in Washington,
D&C&, Lucy Upton held positions in the U&S& Census
Office, and in the Pension Bureau. They were not sufficiently challenging
however, and she resigned in 1887, to go to Germany with her
brother Winslow and his family while he was there on study. After the
months in Europe, she returned to Boston and became active in church
and community life. What was called an "accidental meeting"
with Miss Packard in Washington turned her attention to Spelman.
Here was a cause she believed in. After correspondence with Miss
Packard and to the joy of Miss Packard and Miss Giles, she came
to Atlanta, in the fall of 1888, to help wherever needed, although
there was then no money available to pay her a salary. She served for
a number of years without pay beyond her travel and maintenance.

Her students have spoken of the exacting standards of scholarship

and of manners and conduct she expected and achieved from the students;
of her "great power of discernment"; of "her exquisiteness
of dress", "her well-modulated voice that went straight to the hearts
of the hearers"; her great love of flowers and plants and birds;
and her close knowledge of individual students. She drew
on all her resources of mind and heart to help them- to make them
at home in the world; and as graduates gratefully recall, she drew on
her purse as well. Many a student was able to remain at Spelman, only
because of her unobtrusive help. Under Miss Upton, the work
of the year 1909-10 went forward without interruption. After all,
she had come to Spelman Seminary in 1888, and had been since 1891 except
for one year, Associate Principal or Dean. She had taught classes
in botany, astronomy (with the aid of a telescope), geometry,
and
psychology. Miss Upton and Miss Packard, as a matter of fact,
had many tastes in common. Both had eager and inquiring minds; and
both believed that intellectual growth must go hand in hand with the
development of sturdy character and Christian zeal. Both loved the
out-of-doors, including mountain climbing and horseback riding. In 1890
when the trip to Europe and the Holy Land was arranged for Miss
Packard, it was Miss Upton who planned the trip, and "with rare
executive ability" bore the brunt of "the entire pilgrimage from
beginning to end". So strenuous it was physically, with its days of
horseback riding over rough roads that it seems an amazing feat of endurance
for both Miss Packard and Miss Upton. Yet they thrived on
it. At the Fifteenth
Anniversary (1896) as already quoted, Miss
Upton projected with force and eloquence the Spelman of the Future
as a college of first rank, with expanding and unlimited horizons.
When Dr& Wallace Buttrick, wise in his judgment of people, declined
to have the Science Building named for him, he wrote Miss Tapley
(April 7, 1923) "**h If you had asked me, I think I would have
suggested that you name the building for Miss Upton. Her services
to the School for many years were of a very high character, and I
have often thought that one of the buildings should be named for her".

Such were the qualities of the Acting-President of the Seminary

after the death of Miss Giles. At the meeting of the
Board of Trustees, on March 3, 1910, Miss Upton presented the annual
report of the President. She noted that no student had been withdrawn
through loss of confidence; that the enrollment showed an increase
of boarding students as was desired; and that the year's work
had gone forward smoothly. She urged the importance of more thorough
preparation for admission. The raising of the $25,000 Improvement
Fund two days before the time limit expired, and the spontaneous "praise
demonstration" held afterward on the campus, were reported as
events which had brought happiness to Miss Giles. With the Fund in
hand, the debt on the boilers had been paid; Rockefeller and Packard
Halls had been renovated; walks laid; and ground had been broken
for the superintendent's home. Miss Upton spoke gratefully of
the response of Spelman graduates and Negro friends in helping to raise
the Fund, and their continuing efforts to raise money for greatly
needed current expenses. She spoke also with deep thankfulness of the
many individuals and agencies whose interest and efforts through the
years had made the work so fruitful in results. Two bequests
were recorded: one of $200 under the will of Mrs& Harriet A&
Copp of Los Angeles; and one of $2,000 under the will of Miss Celia
L& Brett of Hamilton, New York, a friend from the early days.

Miss Upton told the Trustees that the death of Miss Giles
was "the sorest grief" the Seminary had ever been called upon
to bear. The daughters of Spelman, she said, had never known or thought
of Spelman without her. The removal of Miss Packard 18 years earlier
had caused them great sorrow, but they still had Miss Giles.
Now the school was indeed bereft. "Yet Spelman has strong, deep roots,
and will live for the blessing of generations to come". #@#

Miss Mary Jane Packard, Sophia's half-sister, became ill in

March, 1910; and when school closed, she was unable to travel to Massachusetts.
She remained in Atlanta through June and July; she
died on August sixth. Before coming on a visit to Spelman
in 1885, Miss Mary had been a successful teacher in Worcester, and
her position there was held open for her for a considerable period. But
she decided to stay at Spelman. She helped with teaching as well
as office work for a few years- the catalogues show that she had classes
in geography, rhetoric and bookkeeping. Soon the office work claimed
all her time. She was closely associated with the Founders in all
their trials and hardships. Quiet and energetic, cheerful and calm,
she too was a power in the development of the seminary. Miss Giles
always used to refer to her as "Sister". She served as secretary
in the Seminary office for 25 years, and was in charge of correspondence,
records, and bookkeeping. The books of the school hold a memorial
to her; and so do the hearts of students and of teachers.

Mary J& Packard, states a <Messenger> editorial, was "efficient,

pains-taking, self-effacing, loving, radiating the spirit of her
Master. With infinite patience she responded to every call, no matter
at what cost to herself, and to her all went, for she was sure to
have the needed information or word of cheer.

In a few school districts one finds a link between school and

job. In those vocational programs organized with Smith-Hughes money,
there may be a close tie between the labor union and a local employer
on the one hand and the vocational teacher on the other. In these cases
a graduate may enter directly into an apprentice program, saving
a year because of his vocational courses in grades 11 and 12. The apprentice
program will involve further education on a part-time basis, usually
at night, perhaps using some of the same equipment of the high
school. These opportunities are to be found in certain cities in such
crafts as auto mechanics, carpentry, drafting, electrical work, tool-and-die
work, and sheet-metal work. Formally organized vocational
programs supported by federal funds allow high school students to
gain experience in a field of work which is likely to lead to a full-time
job on graduation. The "diversified occupations" program is a
part-time trade-preparatory program conducted over two school years on
a cooperative basis between the school and local industrial and business
employers. The "distributive education" program operates in
a similar way, with arrangements between the school and employers in
merchandising
fields. In both cases the student attends school half-time
and works in a regular job the other half. He receives remuneration
for his work. In a few places cooperative programs between schools
and employers in clerical work have shown the same possibilities for allowing
the student, while still in school, to develop skills which are
immediately marketable upon graduation. Adult education courses,
work-study programs of various sorts- these are all evidence of
a continuing interest of the schools in furthering educational opportunities
for out-of-school youth. In general, however, it may be said
that when a boy or a girl leaves the high school, the school authorities
play little or no part in the decision of what happens next. If the
student drops out of high school, the break with the school is even
more complete. When there is employment opportunity for youth, this
arrangement- or lack of arrangement- works out quite well. Indeed,
in some periods of our history and in some neighborhoods the job opportunities
have been so good that undoubtedly a great many boys who were
potential members of the professions quit school at an early age and
went to work. Statistically this has represented a loss to the nation,
although one must admit that in an individual case the decision in
retrospect may have been a wise one. I make no attempt to measure the
enduring satisfaction and material well-being of a man who went to work
on graduation from high school and was highly successful in the business
which he entered. He may or may not be "better off" than his
classmate who went on to a college and professional school. But in
the next decades the nation needs to educate for the professions all
the potential professional talent. In a later chapter dealing
with the suburban school, I shall discuss the importance of arranging
a program for the academically talented and highly gifted youth in any
high school where he is found. In the Negro neighborhoods and also
to some extent in the mixed neighborhoods the problem may be one of
identification and motivation. High motivation towards higher education
must start early enough so that by the time the boy or girl reaches
grade 9 he or she has at least developed those basic skills which are
essential for academic work. Undoubtedly far more can be done in the
lower grades in this regard in the Negro schools. However, the teacher
can only go so far if the attitude of the community and the family
is anti-intellectual. And the fact remains that there are today few
shining examples of Negroes in positions of intellectual leadership.
This is not due to any policy of discrimination on the part of the Northern
universities. Quite the contrary, as I can testify from personal
experience as a former university president. Rather we see here
another vicious circle. The absence of successful Negroes in the world
of scholarship and science has tended to tamp down enthusiasm among
Negro youth for academic careers. I believe the situation is improving,
but the success stories need to be heavily publicized. Here again
we run into the roadblock that Negroes do not like to be designated
as Negroes in the press. How can the vicious circle be broken? This
is a problem to which leaders of opinion, both Negro and white,
should devote far more attention. It is at least as important as the
more dramatic attempts to break down barriers of inequality in the South.

#VOCATIONAL EDUCATION#

I should like to underline four points

I made in my first report with respect to vocational education. First
and foremost, vocational courses should not replace courses which
are essential parts of the required academic program for graduation. Second,
vocational courses should be provided in grades 11 and 12 and
not require more than half the student's time in those years; however,
for slow learners and prospective dropouts these courses ought to
begin earlier. Third, the significance of the vocational courses is
that those enrolled are keenly interested in the work; they realize
the relevance of what they are learning to their future careers, and this
sense of purpose is carried over to the academic courses which they
are studying at the same time. Fourth, the type of vocational training
programs should be related to the employment opportunities in the
general locality. This last point is important because if high school
pupils are aware that few, if any, graduates who have chosen a certain
vocational program have obtained a job as a consequence of the training,
the whole idea of relevance disappears. Vocational training which
holds no hope that the skill developed will be in fact a marketable
skill becomes just another school "chore" for those whose interest
in their studies has begun to falter. Those who, because of population
mobility and the reputed desire of employers to train their own employees,
would limit vocational education to general rather than specific
skills ought to bear in mind the importance of motivation in any kind
of school experience. I have been using the word "vocational"
as a layman would at first sight think it should be used. I intend
to include under the term all the practical courses open to boys
and girls. These courses develop skills other than those we think of
when we use the adjective "academic". Practically all of these practical
skills are of such a nature that a degree of mastery can be obtained
in high school sufficient to enable the youth to get a job at
once on the basis of the skill. They are in this sense skills marketable
immediately on graduation from high school. To be sure, in tool-and-die
work and in the building trades, the first job must be often
on an apprentice basis, but two years of half-time vocational training
enables the young man thus to anticipate one year of apprentice status.
Similarly, a girl who graduates with a good working knowledge of stenography
and the use of clerical machines and who is able to get a job
at once may wish to improve her skill and knowledge by a year or two
of further study in a community college or secretarial school. Of course,
it can be argued that an ability to write English correctly and
with some degree of elegance is a marketable skill. So, too, is the
mathematical
competence of a college graduate who has majored in mathematics.
In a sense almost all high school and college courses could be
considered as vocational to the extent that later in life the student
in his vocation (which may be a profession) will be called upon to use
some of the skills developed and the competence obtained. In spite
of the shading of one type of course into another, I believe it is useful
to talk about vocational courses as apart from academic courses.
Perhaps a course in typewriting might be regarded as the exception which
proves the rule. Today many college bound students try to take a
course in personal typing, as they feel a certain degree of mastery of
this skill is almost essential for one who proposes to do academic work
in college and a professional school. Most of our largest
cities have one or more separate vocational or technical high schools.
In this respect, public education in the large cities differs from education
in the smaller cities and consolidated school districts. The
neighborhood high schools are not, strictly speaking, comprehensive schools,
because some of the boys and girls may be attending a vocational
or technical high school instead of the local school. Indeed, one
school superintendent in a large city objects to the use of the term
comprehensive
high school for the senior high schools in his city, because
these schools do not offer strictly vocational programs. He prefers
to designate such schools as "general" high schools. The suburban
high school, it is worth noting, also is not a widely comprehensive
high school because of the absence of vocational programs. The reason
is that there is a lack of interest on the part of the community. Therefore
employment and education in all the schools in a metropolitan
area are related in different ways from those which are characteristic
of the comprehensive high school described in my first report.

The separate vocational or technical high schools in the large cities

must be reckoned as permanent institutions. By and large their programs
are satisfactorily connected both to the employment situation and
to the realities of the apprentice system. It is not often realized
to what degree certain trades are in many communities closed areas of
employment, except for a lucky few. One has to talk confidentially with
some of the directors of vocational high schools to realize that a
boy cannot just say, "I want to be a plumber", and then, by doing
good work, find a job. It is far more difficult in many communities
to obtain admission to an apprentice program which involves union approval
than to get into the most selective medical school in the nation.
Two stories will illustrate what I have in mind. One vocational instructor
in a city vocational school, speaking of his course in a certain
field, said he had no difficulty placing all students in jobs <outside>
of the city. In the city, he said, the waiting list for those
who want to join the union is so long that unless a boy has an inside
track he can't get in. In a far distant part of the United States,
I was talking to an instructor about a boy who in the twelfth grade
was doing special work. "What does he have in mind to do when he
graduates"? "Oh, he'll be a plumber", came the answer. "But
isn't it almost impossible to get into the union"? I asked.
"He'll have no difficulty", I was told. "He has very good
connections". In my view, there should be a school which offers
significant vocational programs for boys within easy reach of every
family in a city. Ideally these schools should be so located that
one or more should be in the area where demand for practical courses is
at the highest. An excellent example of a successful location
of a new vocational high school is the Dunbar Vocational High School
in Chicago. Located in a bad slum area now undergoing redevelopment,
this school and its program are especially tailored to the vocational
aims of its students. Hardly a window has been broken since
Dunbar
first was opened (and vandalism in schools is a major problem in many
slum areas). I discovered in the course of a visit there that almost
all the pupils were Negroes. They were learning trades as diverse
as shoe repairing, bricklaying, carpentry, cabinet making, auto mechanics,
and airplane mechanics. The physical facilities at Dunbar are
impressive, but more impressive is the attitude of the pupils.

The soybean seed is the most important leguminous food in the

world. In the United States, where half of the world crop is grown,
soybeans are processed for their edible oil. The residue from soybean
processing goes mainly into animal feeds. Soybeans are extensively
processed into a remarkable number of food products in the Orient.
American chemists, seeking to increase exports of soybeans, have
adapted modern techniques and fermentation methods to improve their
use in such traditional Japanese foods as tofu and miso and in tempeh
of Indonesia. Soybean flour, grits, flakes, "milk", and curd can
be bought in the United States. Peanuts are the world's
second most important legume. They are used mainly for their oil. We
produce peanut oil, but to a much greater extent we eat the entire seed.
Blanched peanuts, as prepared for making peanut butter or for eating
as nuts, are roasted seeds whose seedcoats have been rubbed off.

Cereal grains, supplemented with soybeans or dry edible peas or beans,

comprise about two-thirds or three-fourths of the diet in parts of
Asia and Africa. In western Europe and North America, where
the level of economic development is higher, grains and other seed
products furnish less than one-third of the food consumed. Rather,
meat and potatoes, sugar, and dairy products are the main sources of
carbohydrate,
protein, oils, and fats. People depend less on seeds for
foods in Australia, New Zealand, and Argentina, where extensive grazing
lands support sheep or cattle, and the consumption of meat is high.

Feeds for livestock took about one-sixth of the world's

cereal crop in 1957-1958. Most of the grain is fed to swine and dairy
cows and lesser amounts to beef cattle and poultry. About 90 percent
of the corn used in the United States is fed to animals. The rest
is used for human food and industrial products. More than half of the
sorghum and barley seeds we produce and most of the byproducts of the
milling of cereals and the crushing of oilseeds are fed to livestock.

More than 200 million tons of seeds and seed products are fed
to livestock annually in the United States. The efficiency
with which animals convert grains and forages to meat has risen steadily
in the United States since the 1930's and has paralleled the increased
feeding of the cake and meal that are a byproduct when seeds
are processed for oil. ##

THE DEMAND for food is so great in

the world that little arable land can be given over to growing the nonfood
crops. Seeds grown for industrial uses hold a relatively minor
position. Chief among the seed crops grown primarily for industrial
uses are the oil-bearing seeds- flax, castor, tung (nuts from
the China wood-oil tree), perilla (from an Oriental mint), and oiticica
(from a Brazilian tree). Oils, or liquid fats, from the
seeds of flax and tung have long been the principal constituents of paints
and varnishes for protecting and beautifying the surfaces of wood
and metal. These oils develop hard, smooth films when they dry and form
resinlike substances. The artist who paints in oil uses drying
oils to carry the pigments and to protect his finished work for the
ages. One of the finest of artists' oils comes from poppy seeds.

Seeds of soybean, cotton, corn, sesame, and rape yield semidrying

oils. Some are used in paints along with drying oils. Palm oil
protects the surfaces of steel sheets before they are plated with tin.

Castor oil, made from castorbeans, has gone out of style as a

medicine. This nondrying oil, however, is now more in demand than ever
before as a fine lubricant, as a constituent of fluids for hydraulically
operated equipment, and as a source of chemicals to make plastics.

Almond oil, another nondrying oil, was once used extensively

in perfumery to extract flower fragrances. It is still used in drugs
and cosmetics, but it is rather scarce and sometimes is adulterated with
oils from peach and plum seeds. Liquid fats from all these
oilseeds enter into the manufacture of soaps for industry and the household
and of glycerin for such industrial uses as making explosives.

Sizable amounts of soybean, coconut, and palm kernel oil- seed

oils that are produced primarily for food purposes- also are used
to make soaps, detergents, and paint resins. Solid fats from
the seeds of the mahua tree, the shea tree, and the coconut palm are used
to make candles in tropical countries. Seeds are a main source
of starch for industrial and food use in many parts of the world.
Corn and wheat supply most of the starch in the United States, Canada,
and Australia. In other countries where cereal grains are not
among the principal crops of a region, starchy tubers or roots are processed
for starch. Starch is used in the paper, textile, and food-processing
industries and in a multitude of other manufacturing operations.

Gums were extracted from quince, psyllium (fleawort), flax,

and locust (carob) seeds in ancient times. Today the yearly import
into the United States of locust bean gum is more than 15 million pounds;
of psyllium seed, more than 2.6 million. The discovery during
the Second World War that guar gum was similar to imported locust
gum increased its cultivation in western Asia and initiated it in the
United States. Water-soluble gums are used in foods and drugs
and in the manufacture of pulp and paper as thickeners, stabilizers,
or dispersing agents. Guar gum thickens salad dressings and stabilizes
ice cream. Quince seed gum is the main ingredient in wave-setting
lotions. Once regarded as an agricultural nuisance, psyllium was sold
in the 1930's as a mechanical laxative under 117 different brands.
Locust gum is added to pulp slurries to break up the lumps of fibers
in making paper. ##

THE SEEDS of hard, fibrous, stony fruits,

called nuts, provide highly concentrated foods, oils, and other materials
of value. Most nuts consist of the richly packaged storage kernel
and its thick, adherent, brown covering- the seedcoat. The
kernels of brazil nuts, cashews, coconuts, filberts, hazelnuts, hickory
nuts, pecans, walnuts, and pine nuts are predominantly oily. Almonds
and pistachio nuts are not so high in oil but are rich in protein.
Chestnuts are starchy. All nut kernels are rich in protein.
The world production of familiar seed nuts- almonds, brazil nuts,
filberts, and the English walnuts- totals about 300 thousand tons annually.

Coconuts, the fruit of the coconut palm, have the largest

of all known seeds and are grown in South Pacific islands as a
crop for domestic and export markets. The oil palm of West Africa yields
edible oil from both the flesh and the seed or kernel of its fruit.
World production of copra, the oil-bearing flesh of the coconut,
was a little more than 3 million tons in 1959. Exports from producing
countries in terms of equivalent oil were a little more than 1 million
tons, about half of which was palm kernels or oil from them and about
half was palm oil. Other nuts consumed in lesser quantity include
the spicy nutmeg; the soap nut, which owes its sudsing power
to natural saponins; the marking nut, used for ink and varnish; the
aromatic sassafras nut of South America; and the sweet-smelling
cumara nut, which is suited for perfumes. A forest crop that has
not been extensively cultivated is ivory nuts from the tagua palm.
The so-called vegetable ivory is the hard endosperm of the egg-sized
seed. It is used for making buttons and other small, hard objects of
turnery. Seeds of the sago palm are used in Bermuda to make heads and
faces of dolls sold to tourists. ##

THE COLOR AND SHAPE of

seeds have long made them attractive for ornaments and decorations.

Since Biblical times, rosaries have been made from jobs-tears-

the seeds of an Asiatic grass. Bead tree seeds are the necklaces
of South Pacific islanders and the eyes of Buddha dolls in Cuba.
Victorian ladies had a fad of stringing unusual seeds to wear as jewelry.

Handmade Christmas wreaths and trees often contain a variety

of seeds collected during the year. Tradition has assigned
medicinal values to seeds because of their alkaloids, aromatic oils,
and highly flavored components. Although science has given us more effective
materials, preparations from anise, castorbean, colchicum, nux
vomica, mustard, fennel, and stramonium are familiar to many for the
relief of human ailments. Flaxseed poultices and mustard plasters still
are used by some persons. Peanut and sesame oils often are
used as carriers or diluents for medicines administered by injection.

Still another
group of seeds (sometimes tiny, dry, seed-bearing
fruits) provide distinctive flavors and odors to foods, although the
nutrients they supply are quite negligible. The common spices, flavorings,
and condiments make up this group. Each year millions of
pounds of anise, caraway, mustard, celery, and coriander and the oils
extracted from them are imported. Single-seeded dry fruits used
for flavoring include several of the carrot family, such as cumin,
dill, fennel, and angelica. Less common seeds used in cooking and beverages
include fenugreek (artificial maple flavor) and cardamom. White
pepper is the ground seed of the common black pepper fruit. Sesame
seed, which comes from the tall pods of a plant grown in Egypt,
Brazil, and Central America, has a toasted-nut flavor and can be
used in almost any dish calling for almonds. It is a main flavoring for
halvah, the candy of the Middle East. Sesame sticks, a snack dip,
originated in the Southwest. Beverages are made from seeds
the world over. Coffee is made from the roasted and ground seeds
of the coffee tree. World production of coffee broke all previous
records in 1959 and 1960 at more than 5 million tons. Per capita consumption
remains around 16 pounds in the United States. Cocoa,
chocolate, and cocoa butter come from the ground seeds of the cacao
tree. World production of about 1 million tons is divided primarily between
Africa (63 percent) and South America (27 percent). Several
soft drinks contain extracts from kola nuts, the seed of the kola
tree cultivated in the West Indies and South America. Cereal
grains have been used for centuries to prepare fermented beverages.
The Japanese sake is wine fermented from rice grain. Arrack is
distilled from fermented rice in India. Beer, generally fermented
from barley, is an old alcoholic beverage. Beer was brewed by the
Babylonians and Egyptians more than 6 thousand years ago. Brewers
today use corn, rice, and malted barley. Distillers use corn,
malt, wheat, grain sorghum, and rye in making beverage alcohol. ##

SEED CROPS hold a prominent place in the agricultural economy

of the United States. The farm value of seeds produced in this
country for all purposes, including the cereals, is nearly 10 billion
dollars a year. Cereal grains, oilseeds, and dry beans and peas account
for about 57 percent of the farm value of all crops raised.

The economic importance of seed crops actually is even greater, because

additional returns are obtained from most of the corn, oats, barley,
and sorghum- as well as the cake and meal from the processing
of flaxseed, cottonseed, and soybeans- through conversion to poultry,
meat, and dairy products. Seeds furnish about 40 percent of
the total nutrients consumed by all livestock. Hay and pasture are the
other chief sources of livestock feed. Seeds are the essential
raw materials for milling grain, baking, crushing oilseed, refining
edible oil, brewing, distilling, and mixing feed. More than 11
thousand business establishments in the United States were based on
cereals and oilseeds in 1954. The value of products from these industries
was 15.8 billion dollars, of which about one-third was created
by manufacturing processes. Not included was the value of seed oil in
paints and varnishes or the value of the coffee and chocolate industries
that are based on imported seed or seed products. Cereal grains
furnish about one-fourth of the total food calories in the American
diet and about one-third of the total nutrients consumed by all livestock
and poultry.

To hold a herd of cattle on a new range till they felt at home

was called "locatin'" 'em. To keep 'em scattered somewhat
and yet herd 'em was called "loose herdin'". To hold 'em in
a compact mass was "close herdin'". Cattle were inclined to remain
in a territory with which they were acquainted. That became their
"home range". Yet there were always some that moved farther and
farther out, seekin' grass and water. These became "strays",
the term bein' restricted to cattle, however, as hosses, under like
circumstances, were spoken of as "stray hosses", not merely "strays".

Cattle would drift day and night in a blizzard till it

was over. You couldn't stop 'em; you had to go with 'em or wait
till the storm was over, and follow. Such marchin' in wholesale
numbers was called a "drift", or "winter drift", and if the storm
was prolonged it usually resulted in one of the tragedies of the
range. The cowboy made a technical distinction in reference to the number
of them animals. The single animal or a small bunch were referred
to as "strays"; but when a large number were "bunched up"
or "banded up", and marched away from their home range, as long as
they stayed together the group was said to be a "drift". Drifts
usually occurred in winter in an effort to escape the severe cold winds,
but it could also occur in summer as the result of lack of water or
grass because of a drought, or as an aftermath of a stampede. Drifts
usually happened only with cattle, for hosses had 'nough sense to avoid
'em, and to find shelter for 'emselves. The wholesale
death of cattle as a result of blizzards, and sometimes droughts, over
a wide range of territory was called a "die-up". Followin' such
an event there was usually a harvest of "fallen hides", and the
ranchers needed skinnin' knives instead of brandin' irons. Cattle
were said to be "potted" when "blizzard choked", that is, caught
in a corner or a draw, or against a "drift fence" durin' a
storm. Cattle which died from them winter storms were referred to as
the "winter kill". When cattle in winter stopped and humped their
backs up they were said to "bow up". This term was also used by
the cowboy in the sense of a human showin' fight, as one cowhand was
heard to say, "He arches his back like a mule in a hailstorm". Cattle
drove to the northern ranges and held for two winters to mature
'em into prime beef were said to be "double wintered". Cattle
brought into a range from a distance were called "immigrants".
Them new to the country were referred to as "pilgrims". This
word was first applied to the imported hot-blooded cattle, but later
was more commonly used as reference to a human tenderfoot. Hereford cattle
were often called "white faces", or "open-face cattle",
and the old-time cowman gave the name of "hothouse stock" to them
newly introduced cattle. Because Holstein cattle weren't a beef breed,
they were rarely seen on a ranch, though one might be found now and
then for the milk supply. The cowboy called this breed of cattle "magpies".
A "cattaloe" was a hybrid offspring of buffalo and
cattle.
"Dry stock" denoted, regardless of age or sex, such bovines
as were givin' no milk. A "wet herd" was a herd of cattle made
up entirely of cows, while "wet stuff" referred to cows givin'
milk. The cowboy's humorous name for a cow givin' milk was a "milk
pitcher". Cows givin' no milk were knowed as "strippers".
The terminology of the range, in speakin' of "dry stock" and
"wet stock", was confusin' to the tenderfoot. The most common reference
to "wet stock" was with the meanin' that such animals had
been smuggled across the Rio Grande after bein' stolen from their
rightful owners. The term soon became used and applied to all stolen
animals. "Mixed herd" meant a herd of mixed sexes, while a "straight
steer herd" was one composed entirely of steers, and when the
cowman spoke of "mixed cattle", he meant cattle of various grades,
ages, and sexes. In the spring when penned cattle were turned
out to grass, this was spoken of as "turn-out time", or "put
to grass". "Shootin' 'em out" was gettin' cattle out of
a corral onto the range. When a cow came out of a corral in a crouchin'
run she was said to "come out a-stoopin'". To stir cattle
up and get 'em heated and excited was to "mustard the cattle", and
the act was called "ginnin' 'em 'round", or "chousin'
'em". After a roundup the pushin' of stray cattle of outside brands
toward their home range was called "throwin' over".
A cow rose from the ground rear end first. By the time her hindquarters
were in a standin' position, her knees were on the ground in a prayin'
attitude. It was when she was in this position that the name
"prayin' cow" was suggested to the cowboy. They were said to be
"on their heads" when grazin'. "On the hoof" was a reference
to live cattle and was also used in referrin' to cattle travelin'
by trail under their own power as against goin' by rail. Shippin'
cattle by train was called a "stock run". A general classification
given grass-fed cattle was "grassers". When a cowboy
spoke of "dustin'" a cow, he meant that he throwed dust into her
eyes. The cow, unlike a bull or steer, kept her eyes open and her
mind on her business when chargin', and a cow "on the prod" or "on
the peck" was feared by the cowhand more than any of his other
charges. The Injun's name for beef was "wohaw", and many
of the old frontiersmen adopted it from their association with the Injun
on the trails. The first cattle the Injuns saw under the white
man's control were the ox teams of the early freighters. Listenin'
with wonder at the strange words of the bullwhackers as they shouted
"Whoa", "Haw", and "Gee", they thought them words the
names of the animals, and began callin' cattle "wohaws". Rarely
did a trail herd pass through the Injun country on its march north
that it wasn't stopped to receive demand for "wohaw". "Tailin'"
was the throwin' of an animal by the tail in lieu of a
rope. Any animal could when travelin' fast, be sent heels over head
by the simple process of overtakin' the brute, seizin' its tail,
and givin' the latter a pull to one side. This throwed the animal
off balance, and over it'd crash onto its head and shoulders. Though
the slightest yank was frequently capable of producin' results, many
men assured success through a turn of the tail 'bout the saddle
horn, supplemented sometimes, in the case of cattle, by a downward heave
of the rider's leg upon the strainin' tail. Such tactics were
resorted to frequently with the unmanageable longhorns, and a thorough
"tailin'" usually knocked the breath out of a steer, and so dazed
'im that he'd behave for the rest of the day. It required both
a quick and swift hoss and a darin' rider. When cattle became more
valuable, ranch owners frowned upon this practice and it was discontinued,
at least when the boss was 'round. When the cowboy used the word
"tailin's", he meant stragglers. "Bull tailin'"
was a game once pop'lar with the Mexican cowboys of Texas. From
a pen of wild bulls one would be released, and with much yellin' a
cowhand'd take after 'im. Seizin' the bull by the tail, he rushed
his hoss forward and a little to one side, throwin' the bull off
balance, and "bustin'" 'im with terrific force. Rammin' one
horn of a downed steer into the ground to hold 'im down was called
"peggin'". Colors of cattle came in for their special names.
An animal covered with splotches or spots of different colors was
called a "brindle" or "brockle". A "lineback" was an animal
with a stripe of different color from the rest of its body runnin'
down its back, while a "lobo stripe" was the white, yeller, or
brown stripe runnin' down the back, from neck to tail, a characteristic
of many Spanish cattle. A "mealynose" was a cow or steer of
the longhorn type, with lines and dots of a color lighter'n the rest
of its body 'round the eyes, face, and nose. Such an animal was
said to be "mealynosed". "Sabinas" was a Spanish word used to
describe cattle of red and white peppered and splotched colorin'.
The northern cowboy called all the red Mexican cattle which went up
the trail "Sonora reds", while they called all cattle drove up from
Mexico "yaks", because they came from the Yaqui Injun country,
or gave 'em the name of "Mexican buckskins". Near the southern
border, cattle of the early longhorn breed whose coloration was black
with a lineback, with white speckles frequently appearin' on the
sides and belly, were called "zorrillas". This word was from the
Spanish, meanin' "polecat". "Yeller bellies" were cattle
of Mexican breed splotched on flank and belly with yellerish color. An
animal with distinct coloration, or other marks easily distinguished
and remembered by the owner and his riders, was sometimes used as a
"marker". Such an animal has frequently been the downfall of the
rustler. Countin' each grazin' bunch of cattle where it was
found on the range and driftin' it back so that it didn't mix with
the uncounted cattle was called a "range count". The countin'
of cattle in a pasture without throwin' 'em together for the purpose
was called a "pasture count". The counters rode through the
pasture countin' each bunch of grazin' cattle, and drifted it back
so that it didn't get mixed with the uncounted cattle ahead. This
method of countin' was usually done at the request, and in the presence,
of a representative of the bank that held the papers against the
herd. Them notes and mortgages were spoken of as "cattle paper".

A "book count" was the sellin' of cattle by the books,

commonly resorted to in the early days, sometimes much to the profit of
the seller. This led to the famous sayin' in the Northwest of the
"books won't freeze". This became a common byword durin' the
boom days when Eastern and foreign capital were so eager to buy cattle
interests. The origin of this sayin' was credited to a saloonkeeper
by the name of Luke Murrin. His saloon was a meetin' place for
influential Wyoming cattlemen, and one year durin' a severe blizzard,
when his herd-owner customers were wearin' long faces, he said,
"Cheer up boys, whatever happens, the books won't freeze". In
this carefree sentence he summed up the essence of the prevailin'
custom of buyin' by book count, and created a sayin' which has survived
through the years. "Range delivery" meant that the buyer, after
examinin' the seller's ranch records and considerin' his rep'tation
for truthfulness, paid for what the seller claimed to own,
then rode out and tried to find it. When a cowhand said that a
man had "good cow sense", he meant to pay 'im a high compliment.
No matter by what name cattle were called, there was no denyin' that
they not only saved Texas from financial ruin, but went far toward
redeemin' from a wilderness vast territories of the Northwest. #@
21 @ SWINGIN' A WIDE LOOP#

THE first use of the word

"rustler" was as a synonym for "hustler", becomin' an established
term for any person who was active, pushin', and bustlin' in
any enterprise. Again it was used as the title for the hoss wrangler,
and when the order was given to go out and "rustle the hosses",
it meant for 'im to go out and herd 'em in. Eventually herdin'
the hosses was spoken of as "hoss rustlin'", and the wrangler was
called the "hoss rustler". Later, the word became almost exclusively
applied to a cow thief, startin' from the days of the maverick
when cowhands were paid by their employers to "get out and rustle
a few mavericks".
IT WAS JOHN who found the lion tracks. He found them near the carcass
of a zebra that had been killed the night before, and he circled
once, nose to the ground, hair shooting up along his back, as it did
when he was after lion or bear, and then he lifted his head and bayed,
and the pack joined in, all heads high, and Jones knew it was a hot
trail. He stifled the Comanche yell and let John lead him
straight toward the nearby black volcanic mountain. This mountain was
known as The Black Reef and it rose almost perpendicularly for about
two hundred feet, honeycombed with caves, top covered with dense scrub
and creepers and tall grass. On the south it ended sharply as though
the lava had been cut off there suddenly. Kearton and Ulyate
had started the day together while Jones followed the dogs, and Means
and Loveless had taken another route, and now, with the discovery
of the fresh trail still unknown to him, Ulyate reined in, in the
shadow of the Reef and pointed. Kearton focussed his field glasses.

"That's the Colonel", he said, "But I can't see the

dogs". As they watched, Jones rode straight for the Reef.
Then they picked up the smaller black specks on the plain in front
of him. The dogs were working a trail- lion? hyena? The pack
had made a bend to the north, swinging back toward the Reef, and Kearton
and Ulyate could hear them faintly. Kearton got off and
tore up some dry grass that grew in cracks between the rocks and piled
it in a heap and wanted to make the smoke signal that would bring Loveless
and Means and the rest of the party. "Not yet", cautioned
Ulyate. Jones came toward them fast, now, along the southern
toe of the Reef, and the dogs could be heard plainly, Old John
with his Grand Canyon voice outstanding above the others. There
was Sounder, too, also a veteran of the North Rim, and Rastus and
the Rake from a pack of English fox-hounds, and a collie from a London
pound, and Simba, a terrier **h. A motley pack, chosen for effectiveness,
not beauty. Jones was galloping close behind them leaning
down, cheering them on. "Light it"! Ulyate said, and Kearton
touched a match to the pile of grass, blew on it and flame licked
out. He threw green stuff on it, and a thin blue column of smoke rose.

"That will fetch the gang and tell the Colonel where we
are". Two quick shots sounded. Then there was a chorus of
wild barking and baying. Then the heavy roar of a lion. Kearton
and Ulyate looked at each other and began to gallop toward the sound.
It came from the top of the Reef not half a mile away. At the
base of the rocky hillside, they left their horses and climbed on foot.
The route was choked with rugged lava-rocks, creepers and bushes, so
thickly overgrown that when Kearton lost sight of Ulyate and called,
Ulyate answered from ten feet away. Nice country to meet a lion in
face to face. Ulyate and Kearton climbed on toward the sound of the
barking of the dogs and the sporadic roaring of the lion, till they
came, out of breath, to the crest, and peering through the branches of
a bush, this is what Ulyate saw: Jones who had apparently (and actually
had) ridden up the nearly impassable hillside, sitting calmly on
his horse within forty feet of a full-grown young lioness, who was crouched
on a flat rock and seemed just about to charge him, while the
dogs whirled around her. Ulyate drew back with a start, and put
finger to lips, almost afraid to move or whisper lest it set her
off, "The dogs have got her bayed **h. She's just the other side
of that bush"! And when they had drawn back a step he added:
"Jones is sitting on his horse right in front of her. Why she doesn't
charge him, I don't know. And he hasn't even got a knife on
him. He couldn't get away from her in this kind of ground **h. Careful,
don't disturb her". ##

Jones had been about a hundred

and fifty feet from her when he first broke through to the top of the
Reef. She was standing on a flat rock three feet above ground and when
she saw him she rose to full height and roared, opening her mouth wide,
lashing her tail, and stamping at the rock with both forefeet in
irritation, as much as to say: "How dare you disturb me in my sacred
precinct"? Intuition told him, however, that she was tired
and winded from the run up the Reef and would not charge, yet. He
moved forward to within thirty-five feet of her, being careful, because
he knew the female is less predictable than the male. (In the graveyard
at Nairobi he had been shown the graves of thirty-four big game
hunters killed hunting the animals he was attempting to lasso.
Of the thirty-four, seventeen had been killed by lions, and eleven out
of the seventeen by lionesses.) She snarled terribly but intuition
told
him, again, that she was bluffing, and he could see that half her
attention was distracted by the dogs. He threw the lasso. It was falling
over her head when a branch of a bush caught it and it fell in front
of her on the rock. Even then, if she took one step forward he could
catch her. But John nipped her rear end- one lion's rear end
was as good as another to John, Africa, Arizona no matter- and she
changed ends and took a swipe at John, but he ducked back. Jones
then recoiled his rope and threw again, this time hitting her on
the back but failing to encircle her. She whirled and faced him, roaring
terribly, and Ulyate, watching through the leaves, could not understand
why she did not charge and obliterate him, because he wouldn't
have much of a chance of getting away, in that thick growth, but she
seemed just a trace uncertain; while Jones, on the other hand, appeared
perfectly confident and Ulyate decided perhaps that was the answer.

From the lioness' point of view, this strange creature

on the back of another creature, lashing out with its long thin paw,
very likely appeared as something she could not at first cope with. But
now she sank lower to the rock. Her roar changed to a growl. Her
tail
no longer lashed. Although she appeared more subdued and defeated,
Jones knew she was growing more dangerous. She was rested and could
mount a charge. Just the tip of her tail was moving as she crouched,
and she was treading lightly up and down with her hind feet.
At this moment, Loveless and Means arrived, crashing through the undergrowth
with their horses, and distracted her, and she ran off a short
distance and jumped into a crevice between two rocks. The dogs followed
her and she killed three and badly wounded Old John. "We've
got to get her out of there"! Jones yelled, "or she'll
kill 'em all. Bring me the firecrackers". For such an
emergency he had included Fourth-of-July cannon crackers as part of
their equipment. Lighting one he pitched it into the crevice, and the
lioness left off mauling the dogs and departed. "Ain't she
a beauty, though"? called out Means as she ran. "Don't
you go a step nearer her than I do", Jones warned, "and if
you do, go at a run so you'll have momentum"! For two hours
they drove her from one strong point to another along the side of
the Reef, trying to maneuver her onto the plain where they could get
a good throw. But she clung to the rocks and brush, and the day wore
away. It was hot. The dogs were tired. The men were tired too. It
was the story of the rhinoceros fight all over again. And the sun was
beginning to go down. If dark came they would lose her. "I'll
get a pole", Jones said finally, "and I'll poke a noose
over her
head"! At this moment she was crouched in a cave-like
aperture halfway down the Reef. Ulyate made no comment but his face
showed what he thought of poking ropes over lions' heads with poles,
and of course these were the lions of fifty years ago, not the gentler
ones of today, and this one was angry, with good reason. Loveless,
too, objected. "It won't work, Colonel". "Just the
same we'll try it". But without waiting for them to try it,
she scattered the dogs and shot down the Reef and out across the plain.

John led the chase after her and the other dogs strung out
behind, many of them trailing blood. John himself was bruised and
clawed from head to tail, but he was in this fight to the finish, running
almost as strongly now as in the morning. She took refuge
on a tongue of land extending into a gully, crouched at the base of a
thorn tree, and waited for them to come up. She had chosen the spot well.
With the gully on three sides, she could be approached only along
the tongue of land. "Careful, now", Jones warned. Means
tried her first. Very slowly he maneuvered his rawboned bay gelding,
edging closer, watching for a chance to throw, but ready to spin and
run, rope whining about his head, horse edging tensely under him, but
the gelding was obedient and responded and was not paralyzed by the close
proximity of the lion. They tell you horses go crazy at the sight
or smell of a bear or a lion, but these didn't. Means edged
closer. She snarled warningly. Means spit and edged on. Again she
snarled, and again he edged. The pony was sidewise to her. With a whirling
jump, it could get into gear **h. However nothing on four legs
was supposed to be faster than a lion over a short distance, unless
it was a cheetah. She charged. Means spun and spurred. For thirty
yards she gained rapidly. She was closing and within one more bound
would have been able to reach the rear end of the bay, but- and
here Jones and Loveless and Ulyate were holding breath for all they
were worth- she never quite caught up that last bound. Means held
steady one jump ahead of her. Then gradually he began to pull away.
A Western cowpony had outrun an African lion, from a standing start.
Photos showed later that she'd been about six feet from Means **h.
Of course the factor of head start made all the difference. How much
head start? No one knew exactly. That was the whole question.
Enough, was the answer. The lioness quickly changed front, when
she saw she couldn't catch Means, and made for Jones. As she had
done with Means, she gained rapidly at first, but then Baldy began
to draw away. Somewhere in the few scant yards of head start was the
determining point. When Jones too drew away, she returned to
a thorn bush in the neck of land running into the gully, crouched low
and waited as before. This new position, however, gave the ropers a
better chance. There was room to make a quick dash past the bush and
throw as you went. So: Means edged around on the north side of her,
Jones moved in from the south. Tossing his rope and shouting he attracted
her attention. He succeeded almost too well, because once she
rose as if to charge, and he half wheeled his horse- he was within
fifty feet- but she sank back. From behind her Means shot
forward at a run. Kearton began shouting, "Wait, wait- the camera's
jammed"! But Means kept on. He raced by within twenty feet
of her, roped her around the neck, but a lioness' neck is short and
thick and with a quick twist she slipped the noose off.
The missionary obligation to proclaim the gospel to all the world was
once left to zealous individuals and voluntary societies. But the time
came when a church that had no part in the missionary movement was
looked upon as deficient in its essential life. The Christian education
of children, too, was once hardly more than a sideshow, but the day
came when a congregation that did not assume full oversight of a church
school was thought of as failing in its duty. The most serious
weakness of the ecumenical movement today is that it is generally
regarded as the responsibility of a few national leaders in each denomination
and a few interdenominational executives. Most pastors and laymen,
even though they believe it to be important, assume that the ecumenical
movement lies outside the province of their parishes. They may
even dismiss it from their minds as something that concerns only the
"ecclesiastical Rover Boys", as someone has dubbed them, who like
to go to national and international assemblies, and have expense accounts
that permit them to do so. As long as this point of view
prevails, the ecumenical movement will be lame and halt. The next
stage ahead is that of making it thoroughly at home in the local community.
Progress will take place far less through what is done in any
"summit conference" of the National Council or the World Council,
or even in offices of the denominational boards, than through what
happens in the communities where Christian people live together as neighbors.
The front line of advance is where witnessing and worshiping
congregations of different traditions exist side by side. Until they
see the ecumenical movement in terms of the difference it makes in their
own attitudes, programs, and relationships, it will have an inevitable
aspect of unreality. As things now stand, there is a grievous disparity
between the unity in Christ which we profess in ecumenical meetings
and the complacent separateness of most congregations on any Main
Street in the nation.

#THE ECUMENICAL CONGREGATION#

The crux
of ecumenical advance is an even more personalized matter than the relation
between congregations in the same community. The decisive question
is what happens <within> each congregation and, finally, in the
minds and hearts of the individual members. It is here that the local
and ecumenical must meet. It is here that the ecumenical must become
local and the local become ecumenical. It has become almost
trite to say that the ecumenical movement must be "carried down to the
grass roots". This way of describing the matter is unfortunate.
It implies two misconceptions. One is that whatever is ecumenical has
to do with some over-all organization at "the top" and needs only
to be understood at the so-called "lower levels". The truth, however,
is that the ecumenical church <is> just the local church in its
own true character as an integral unit of the whole People of God
throughout the world. The other misconception is that our ecumenical
problems will be solved if only the knowledge of the church in its world-wide
extension and its interdenominational connections, now comprehended
by many national leaders, can be communicated to all congregations.
However needed this may be, the fundamental problem is not information
but active commitment to the total mission of the church of Christ
in the world. The basic unit in the church, of whatever denominational
polity, is always the congregation. It is hardly possible
to emphasize this too much. Most people do not realize that the congregation,
as a gathered fellowship meeting regularly face to face, personally
sharing in a common experience and expressing that experience
in daily relationships with one another, is unique. The idea that it
is a feature of all religions is entirely mistaken. The Jewish synagogue
affords a parallel to the Christian congregation, but Hinduism,
Buddhism, Islam, Confucianism, Taoism, Shintoism, although they
have sacred scriptures, priests, spiritual disciplines, and places of
prayer, do not have a congregation as a local household of faith and
love. Their characteristic experience is that of the individual at an
altar or a shrine rather than that of a continuing social group with
a distinctive kind of fellowship. How far the fellowship in most
local churches falls below what the New Testament means by <koinonia!>
What is now called Christian fellowship is often little more
than the social chumminess of having a gracious time with the kind
of people one likes. The <koinonia> of Acts and of the Epistles
means sharing in a common relation to Christ. It is an experience of
a new depth of community derived from an awareness of the corporate
indwelling of Christ in His people. As Dietrich Bonho^ffer puts
it, "Our community with one another consists solely in what Christ
has done to both of us". This may mean having fellowship in the church
with people with whom, on the level of merely human agreeableness,
we might prefer not to have any association at all. There is a vast
difference between the community of reconciliation which the New Testament
describes and the community of congeniality found in the average
church building. Whenever a congregation really sees itself
as a unit in the universal Church, in vital relation with the whole
Body of Christ and participating in His mission to the world, a necessary
foundation-stone of the ecumenical movement has been laid. The
antithesis of the ecumenical and the local then no longer exists. The
local and the ecumenical are one. Of course, the perspective
of those who are dealing directly with the world-wide problems of the
People of God will always be different from the perspective of those
who are dealing with the nearby problems of particular persons in a
particular place. Each viewpoint is valid if it is organically related
to the other. Neither is adequate if it stands alone. Our difficulty
arises when either viewpoint shuts out the other. And this is what
all too often happens.

#DIVERGENT PERSPECTIVES#

A little parable
illustrative of this truth is afforded by an incident related by Professor
Bela Vasady at the end of the Second World War. With great
difficulty he made his way from his native Hungary to Geneva to renew
his contacts as a member of the Provisional Committee for the World
Council of Churches. When he had the mishap of breaking his spectacles,
his ecumenical colleagues insisted on providing him with new
ones. They were bifocals. He often spoke of them as his "ecumenical"
glasses and used them as a symbol of the kind of vision that is
required in the church. It is, he said, a bifocal vision, which can
see both the near-at-hand and the distant and keep a Christian in right
relation to both. As things stand now, the local and the ecumenical
tend to compete with each other. On the one hand, there are
ecumenists who are so stirred by the crises of the church in its encounter
with the world at large that they have no eyes for what the church
is doing in their own town. They do not escape the pitfall into which
Charles Dickens pictured Mrs& Jellyby as falling. Her concern
for the natives of Borrioboola-Gha was so intense that she quite
forgot and neglected her son Peepy! Likewise, the ecumenist may become
so absorbed in the conflict of the church with the totalitarian
state in East Germany, the precarious situation of the church in revolutionary
China, and the anguish of the church over apartheid in South
Africa that he loses close contact with the parish church in its
unspectacular but indispensable ministry of worship, pastoral service
and counseling, and Christian nurture for a face-to-face group of individuals.

On the other hand, many a pastor is so absorbed in ministering

to the intimate, personal needs of individuals in his congregation
that he does little or nothing to lead them into a sense of social
responsibility and world mission. As a result, they go on thinking
of the church, with introverted and self-centered satisfaction, only
in connection with the way in which it serves them and their families.
It would hardly be an exaggeration to say that ninety per cent of
the energy of most churches- whether in terms of finance or spiritual
concern- is poured into the private and domestic interests of the
members. The parish lives for itself rather than for the community or
the world. The gap between the ecumenical perspective and the
parish perspective appears most starkly in a church in any of our comfortable
suburbs. It is eminently successful according to all conventional
standards. It is growing in numbers. Its people are agreeable
friends. It has a beautiful edifice. Its preaching and its music give
refreshment of spirit to men and women living under heavy strain. It
provides pastoral care for the sick and troubled. It helps children
grow up with at least a nodding acquaintance with the Bible. It draws
young people into the circle of those who continue the life of the
church from generation to generation. And it is easy for the ecumenical
enthusiast to lose sight of how basic all this is. But what
is this church doing to help its members understand their roles as Christians
in the world? All too often its conception of parish ministry
and pastoral care includes no responsibility for them in their relation
to issues of the most desperate urgency for the life of mankind.
It is not stirring them to confront the racial tensions of today with
the mind of Christ. It is not helping them face the moral crisis
involved in the use of nuclear energy. It is not making them sensitive
to the sub-Christian level of much of our economic and industrial
life. It is raising no disturbing question as to what Christian stewardship
means for the relationship of the richest nation in the world
to economically underdeveloped peoples. It is not developing an awareness
of the new kind of missionary strategy that is called for as young
churches emerge in Asia and Africa. To put it bluntly, many
a local church is giving its members only what they consciously want.
It is not disturbing them by thoughts of their Christian responsibility
in relation to the world. We shall not make a decisive advance
in the ecumenical movement until such a church begins to see itself not
merely as a haven of comfort and peace but as a base of Christian witness
and mission to the world. There is a humorous but revealing
story about a rancher who owned a large slice of Texas and who wanted
to have on it everything that was necessary for a completely pleasant
community. He built a school and a library, then a recreation center
and an inn. Desiring to fill the only remaining lack, he selected
the best site on the ranch for a chapel and spared no expense in erecting
it. A visitor to the beautiful little building inquired, "Do
you belong to this church, Mr& Rancher"? "Why, no, ma'am",
he replied, "this church belongs to me"! The story reflects
the way too many people feel. As long as the congregation regards
the church as "our" church, or the minister thinks of it as "my"
church, just so long the ecumenical movement will make no significant
advance. There must first be a deeper sense that the church belongs
not to us but to Christ, and that it is His purpose, not our own interests
and preferences, that determines what it is to be and do.

#LOCAL
EMBODIMENT OF THE WHOLE#

A local church which conceives its function

to be entirely that of ministering to the conscious desires and
concerns of its members tends to look on everything ecumenical as an
extra, not as a normal aspect of its own life as a church. It would
doubtless be greatly surprised to be told that in failing to be ecumenical
it is really failing to be the Church of Christ. Yet the
truth, according to the New Testament, is that every local church
has its existence only by being the embodiment of the whole church in
that particular place.
Yet a crowd came out to see some fresh kids from the city try to match
the boys from the neighboring farms; and buggies and wagons and chugging
Fords kept gathering all morning, until the edges of the field
were packed thick and small boys kept scampering out on the playing field
to make fun of the visitors- whose pitcher was a formidable looking
young man with the only baseball cap. This was a bitterly
fought game, carrying almost as much grudge as a fist fight, with no
friendliness exhibited between the teams except the formal politeness
that accompanied the setting forth of ground rules and agreements on balls
that went into the crowd. Every pitch in the game brought forth
a howl from the enraptured audience and every fly ball the visitors
dropped (and because their right fielder was still a little fuzzy from
drink, they dropped many) called forth yelps of derision. At
one point in the game when the skinny old man in suspenders who was acting
as umpire got in the way of a thrown ball and took it painfully in
the kidneys, he lay there unattended while players and spectators wrangled
over whether the ball was "dead" or the base runners were
free to score. This was typical of such games, which were earnestly
played to win and practically never wound up in an expression of
good fellowship. When the visitors, after losing this game, rode along
the village streets toward home, the youngsters who could keep abreast
of them for a moment or two screamed triumphantly, "You bunch of
hay-shakers! G'ahn back home! You hay-shakers"! Baseball
was surely the national game in those days, even though professional
baseball may have been merely a business. Radio broadcasts had
not begun and most devotees of baseball attended the games near home,
in the town park or a pasture, with perhaps two or three trips to the
city each season to see the Cubs or the Pirates or the Indians or
the Red Sox. Young men in school could look forward to playing
ball for money in a dozen different places, even if they failed to
make the major leagues. Nearly any lad with a modicum of skill might
find a payday awaiting him in the Three ~I League, or the Pony
League, or the Coastal Plains League, or the fast Eastern League,
if not indeed in one of the hundreds of city leagues that abounded everywhere.
Even a city of thirty thousand might have six baseball teams,
sponsored by grocers and hardware merchants or department stores,
that played two or three times a week throughout the summer, usually in
the cool of the evening, before an earnest and partisan audience who
did not begrudge a quarter each, or even more, to be dropped into a hat
when the game was half over. Babe Ruth, of course, was everyone's
hero, and everyone knew him, even though relatively few ever
saw him play ball. His face was always in the newspapers, sometimes
in cartoons that seemed nearly as large as life. As the twenties grew
older, and as radio broadcasts of baseball games began to involve more
and more people daily in the doings of the professionals, the great
hitters (always led by Babe Ruth) overshadowed the game so that pitchers
were nearly of no account. Boys no longer bothered learning to
bunt and even school kids scorned to "choke up" on a bat as Willie
Keeler and the famous hitters of another day had done. Other
hitters bloomed with more or less vigor in the news and a few even dared
to dream of matching Ruth, who was still called Jidge by all his
friends, or Leo or Two-Head by those who dared to taunt him (Leo
was the name of the ball player he liked the least) and who called most
of the world "Kid". Lou Gehrig was given the nickname Buster,
and he ran Ruth a close race in home runs. But the nickname never
stuck and Gehrig was no match for Ruth in "color"- which is sometimes
a polite word for delinquent behavior on and off the field. Ruth
was a delinquent boy still, but he was in every way a great ball
player who was out to win the game and occasionally risked a cracked bone
to do it. A few professional baseball players cultivated eccentricities,
with the encouragement of the press, so that they might
see their names in big black print, along with Daddy Browning's,
Al Capone's, Earl Sande's, and the Prince of Wales'. One
who, for a time, succeeded
best and was still the sorriest of all was Charles
Arthur Shires, who called himself, in the newspapers, Art the
Great, or The Great Shires. It was his brag that he could beat
everybody at anything, but especially at fighting, and he once took on
the manager of his club and worked him over thoroughly with his fists.
he was given to public carousing and to acting the clown on the diamond;
and a policeman asserted he had found a pair of brass knuckles
in Art's pocket once when he had occasion to collar the Great First
Baseman for some forgotten reason. (This made a sportswriter named
Pegler wonder in print if Art had worn this armament when he defeated
his manager.) The sorry fact about this young man, who was barely
of age when he broke into major-league baseball, was that he really
was a better ball player than he was given credit for being- never so
good as he claimed, and always an irritant to his associates, but a
good steady performer when he could fight down the temptation to orate
on his skills or cut up in public. In his minor way Charles
Arthur Shires was perhaps more typical of his era than Ruth was, for
he was but one of many young men who laid waste their talents in these
Scott Fitzgerald days for the sake of earning space in the newspapers.
There were others who climbed flagpoles and refused to come down;
or who ingested strange objects, like live fish; or who undertook
to set records for remaining erect on a dance floor, with or without
a partner; or who essayed to down full bottles of illicit gin without
pausing for breath. One young man, exhilarated to the point of insanity
by liquor and the excitement of the moment, performed a perfect
swan dive out of the stands at the Yale Bowl during the Yale-Army
football game, landed squarely on his head on the concrete ramp below,
and died at once. But the twenties were not all insanity and
a striving after recognition. The business of baseball began to prosper
along with other entertainments, and performers- thanks partly to
George Herman Ruth's spectacular efforts each season to run his
salary higher and higher- prospered too. While fifty years before,
Albert Goodwill Spalding, secretary of the Chicago Ball Club of
the National League, could write earnestly to the manager of the Buffalo
club and request a guarantee of one hundred dollars for a baseball
game in August, in this Golden Era a game at the Yankee Stadium
might bring in nearly a hundred thousand dollars at the gate. And
while less than ten years earlier the wayward Black Sox- all of them
top performers in their positions- had toiled for stingy Charles
Comiskey at salaries ranging from twenty-five hundred dollars to forty-five
hundred dollars a year, stars now were asking ten thousand dollars,
twenty thousand dollars, yes, even fifty thousand dollars a season.

The greatest team of this period was unquestionably the New

York Yankees, bought by brewery millions and made into a ball club
by men named Ed Barrow and Miller Huggins. Boston fans sometimes
liked to wring some wry satisfaction out of the fact that most of the
great 1923-27 crew were graduates of the Red Sox- sold to millionaires
Huston and Ruppert by a man who could not deny them their most
trifling desire. Ruth himself, still owning his farm in Massachusetts
and an interest in the Massachusetts cigar business that printed
his round boyish face on the wrappers, had led the parade down from Fenway
Park, followed by pitchers Carl Mays, Leslie "Joe" Bush,
Waite Hoyt, Herb Pennock, and Sam Jones, catcher Wally Schang,
third baseman Joe Dugan (who completed the "playboy trio" of
Ruth, Dugan, and Hoyt), and shortstop Everett Scott. By 1926, when
the mighty Yanks were at their mightiest, only a few of these were
left but they still shone brightest, even beside able and agile rookies
like Tony Lazzeri (who managed never to have one of his epileptic
fits on the field), Mark Koenig, Lou Gehrig, George Pipgras, and
gray-thatched Earl Combs. The deeds of this team, through two seasons
and in the two World's Series that followed, have been written
and talked about until hardly a word is left to be said. But there
is one small episode that a few New York fans who happened to sit in
the cheap seats for one World's Series game in 1926 like best to
recall. Babe Ruth, as he always did in the Stadium, played right field
to avoid having the sun in his eyes, and Tommy Thevenow, a rather
mediocre hitter who played shortstop for the St& Louis Cardinals,
knocked a ball with all his might into the sharp angle formed by the
permanent stands and the wooden bleachers, where Ruth could not reach
it. The ball lay there, shining white on the grass in view of nearly
every fan in the park while Ruth, red-necked with frustration, charged
about the small patch of ground screaming, "Where's the -ing
ball"? But, as he snarled unhappily when the inning was over,
"not a sonofabitch in the place would tell me", so little Tommy
ran all the way home. The ordinary man and woman, however, saw
little of the great professional games of those Golden Days, or of
any other sporting event for that matter. Promoters always hastened
to place their choice tickets in the hands of the wealthy speculators,
and only the man who knew the man who knew the fellow who had an in
with the guy at the box office ever came up with a good seat for a contest
of any importance. Radio broadcasts, however- now that even plain
people could afford "loud speakers" on their sets- held old
fans to the major-league races and attracted new ones, chiefly women,
who through what the philosopher called the ineluctable modality of audition,
became first inured, then attracted, then addicted to the long
afternoon recitals of the doings in some distant baseball park.

In some cities games were broadcast throughout the week and then on
weekends the announcer was silenced, and fans must needs drive to the
city from all the broadcast area to discover how their heroes were faring.
This had a pleasant effect upon the Sunday gate receipts as well
as upon the intake of the rail and bus companies, some of which began
to offer special excursion rates, including seats at the park, just
as the trolley and ferry companies had when baseball was new.
While women had always attended ball games in small numbers (it was the
part of a "dead game sport" in the early years of the twentieth
century to be taken out to the ball park and to root, root, root for
the home team), they had often sat in patient martyrdom, unable even to
read the scoreboard, which sometimes seemed to indicate that one
team
led another by a score of three hundred and eighty to one hundred and
fifty-one. The questions women asked at baseball games were standard
grist for amateur comedy, as were the doings of women automobile drivers;
for every grown man (except a few who were always suspected of
being shy on virility) knew at least the fundamentals of baseball, just
as every male American in this era liked to imagine (or pretend) that
he could fight with his fists. And women were not expected to know
that the pitcher was trying <not> to let the batter hit the ball.

Radio, however, so increased the interest of women in the game

that it was hardly necessary even to have "Ladies' Days" any longer
to enable men to get to the ball park without interference at home.
Women actually began to appear unaccompanied in the stands, where
they still occasionally ran the risk of coming home with a tobacco-juice
stain on a clean skirt or a new curse word tingling their ears.

The radio broadcasts themselves were often so patiently informative,

despite the baseball jargon, that girls and women could begin to
store up in their minds the same sort of random and meaningless statistics
that small boys had long learned better than they ever did their
lessons in school.
This conclusion is dependent on the assumption that traditional sex mores
will continue to sanction both premarital chastity as the "ideal",
and the double standard holding females primarily responsible for
preserving the ideal. Our discussion of this involves using
Erik Erikson's schema of "identity <vs&> identity diffusion"
as a conceptual tool in superimposing a few common denominators onto
the diverse personality and family configurations of the unwed mothers
from whose case histories we quoted earlier. Our discussion does not
utilize all the identity crises postulated by Erikson, but is intended
to demonstrate the utility of his theoretical schema for studying
unwed mothers. We hope thereby to emphasize that, from a psychological
standpoint, the effectual prevention of illegitimacy is a continuous
long-term process involving the socialization of the female from infancy
through adolescence. Hypothesizing a series of developmental
stages that begin in the individual's infancy and end in his old
age, Erikson has indicated that the adolescent is faced with a series
of identity crises. The successful and positive resolution of these
crises during adolescence involves an epigenetic principle- during
adolescence, the individual's positive resolutions in each area of identity
crisis depend, to a considerable degree, on his already having
resolved preliminary and preparatory identity crises during his infancy,
childhood, and early adolescence. Within Erikson's schema, the
adolescent's delinquent behavior- in this case, her unwed motherhood-
reflects her "identity diffusion", or her inability to resolve
these various identity crises positively. <The adolescent
experiences identity crises in terms of time perspective vs& time diffusion>.
Time perspective- the ability to plan for the future and
to postpone gratifying immediate wants in order to achieve long-range
objectives- is more easily developed if, from infancy on, the individual
has been able to rely on and trust people and the world in which
she lives. Erikson has noted that, unless this trust developed early,
the time ambivalence experienced, in varying degree and temporarily,
by all adolescents (as a result of their remembering the more immediate
gratification of wants during childhood, while not yet having fully
accepted the long-range planning required by adulthood) may develop
into a more permanent sense of time diffusion. Experience of this time
diffusion ranges from a sense of utter apathy to a feeling of desperate
urgency to act immediately. These polar extremes in time
diffusion were indicated in some of the comments by unwed mothers reported
in earlier chapters. Some of these mothers, apparently feeling a
desperate urgency, made, on the spur of the moment, commitments, in love
and sex, that would have life-long consequences. Others displayed
utter apathy and indifference to any decision about the past or the future.
For many of these unwed mothers, the data on their family life
and early childhood experiences revealed several indications and sources
of their
basic mistrust of their parents in particular and of the world in
general. However, as Erickson has noted, the individual's
failure to develop preliminary identities during infancy and childhood
need not be irreversibly deterministic with respect to a given area of
identity diffusion in his (or her) adolescence. And, as shown in Chapter
/6,, some ~SNP females originally developed such trust only
during their adolescence, through the aid of, and their identification
with, alter-parents. In the specific case of time diffusion, we
must emphasize the significance of the earlier development of mistrust
<when it is combined with> the inevitable time crisis experienced by
most (if not all) adolescents in our society, and with the failure of
the adolescent period to provide opportunities for developing trust.

<The adolescent experiences two closely related crises: self-certainty

vs& an identity consciousness; and role-experimentation
vs& negative identity>. A sense of self-certainty and the freedom
to experiment with different roles, or confidence in one's own unique
behavior as an alternative to peer-group conformity, is more easily
developed during adolescence if, during early childhood, the individual
was permitted to exercise initiative and encouraged to develop some
autonomy. However, if the child has been constantly surrounded,
during nursery and early school age, by peer groups; inculcated
with the primacy of group acceptance and group standards; and allowed
little initiative in early play and work patterns- then in adolescence
her normal degree of vanity, sensitivity, and preoccupation with
whether others find her appearance and behavior acceptable, will be compounded.
Her ostensible indifference to and rebellion against suggestions
and criticisms by anyone except peer friends during adolescence
are the manifestations, in her adolescence, of her having been indoctrinated
in childhood to feel shame, if not guilt, for failing to behave
in a manner acceptable to, and judged by, the performance of her nursery-
and elementary-school peer friends. To be different is to invite
shame and doubt; and it is better to be shamed and criticized by one's
parents, who already consider one different and difficult to understand,
than by one's peers, who are also experiencing a similar groping
for and denial of adult status. The attitudes of some unwed
mothers quoted in Chapter /2,, revealed both considerable preoccupation
with being accepted by others and a marked absence of self-certainty.
Many appeared to regard their sexual behavior as a justifiable
means of gaining acceptance from and identification with others; but
very few seemed aware that such acceptance and identification need
to be supplemented with more enduring and stable identification of and
with one's self. <Another identity crisis confronting the
adolescent involves anticipation of achievement vs& work-paralysis>.
The adolescent's capacity to anticipate achievement and to exercise
the self-discipline necessary to complete tasks successfully depends
on the degree to which he or she developed autonomy, initiative, and
self-discipline during childhood. The developmental process involves
the individual's progressively experiencing a sense of dignity and achievement
resulting from having completed tasks, having kept commitments,
and having created something (however small or simple- even a doll
dress of one's own design rather than in the design "it ought
to be"). These childhood experiences are sources of the self-certainty
that the adolescent needs, for experimenting with many roles, and
for the <freedom to fail sometimes> in the process of exploring and
discovering her skills and abilities. If she has not had such
experiences, the female's normal adolescent degree of indecision will
be compounded. She may well be incapacitated by it when she is confronted
with present and future alternatives- e&g&, whether to prepare
primarily for a career or for the role of a homemaker; whether
to stay financially dependent on her parents or help support herself
while attending school; whether to pursue a college education or a
job after high school; and whether to attend this or that college and
to follow this or that course of study. Erikson has noted that, as
this indecision mounts, it may result in a "paralysis of workmanship".
This paralysis may be expressed in the female's starting- and
never completing- many jobs, tasks, and courses of study; and in
the fact that she bases her decisions about work, college, carreer, and
studies on what others are doing, rather than on her own sense of identity
with given skills, abilities, likes, and dislikes. The absence,
during her childhood and early adolescence, of experiences in developing
the self-discipline to complete tasks within her ability- experiences
that would have been subsequent sources of anticipation of achievement-
and her lack of childhood opportunities to practice autonomy
and initiative in play and expression, both tend in her adolescence
to deprive her of the freedoms to role-experiment and to fail occasionally
in experimenting. The comments made by some unwed mothers
(quoted in Chapter /2,) reflect this paralysis of workmanship. They
attended school and selected courses primarily on the basis of decisions
others made; they accepted a job primarily because it was available,
convenient, and paid reasonably. These things both express and,
at the same time, continue contributing to, their identity diffusion
in an area that could have become a source of developing dignity and
self-certainty. As their identity diffusion increased, they became more
susceptible to sporadic diversions in love and sexual affairs. These
affairs temporarily relieved the monotony of school or work activities
containing no anticipation of achievement and joy of craftsmanship,
no sense of dignity derived from a job well done. Childhood
experiences in learning work and self-discipline habits within a context
of developing autonomy and initiative have considerable significance
for the prevention of illegitimacy. The excerpts from case histories
presented above confirm this significance, though through different
facets of experience. For example, some unwed mothers had had no work
experiences, household chores, and responsibilities during childhood
and early adolescence; they subsequently occupied their leisure hours
in searching for something exciting and diverting. Sex was both. On
the other hand, some unwed mothers had had so much work and responsibility
imposed on them at an early age, and had thus had so little freedom
or opportunity to develop autonomy and initiative, that their work
and responsibilities became dull and unrewarding burdens- to be escaped
and rebelled against through fun and experimentation with forbidden
sexual behavior. <The adolescent also faces the identity
crisis that Erikson has termed ideological polarization vs& diffusion
of ideals>. In discussing the ways this crisis is germane to consderations
for the prevention of illegitimacy, we shall again superimpose
Erikson's concept on our data. Adolescents have a much-discussed
tendency to polarize ideas and values, to perceive things as
"either-or", black or white- nuances of meaning are relatively
unimportant. This tendency is, perhaps, most clearly revealed in the
literature on religious conversions and experiences of adolescents. Erikson
has postulated that such ideological polarization temporarily
resolves their search for something stable and definite in the rapidly
changing and fluctuating no-man's-land between childhood and adulthood.
It provides identification- with an idea, a value, a cause that
cuts through, or even transcends, the multiple and ambivalent identities
of their passage from child to adult, and permits their forceful
and overt expression of emotion. The positive development, during
adolescence, of this capacity to think and to feel strongly and with
increasing independence, and to identify overtly either with or against
given ideas, values, and practices, depends to a considerable degree
on both previous and present opportunities for developing autonomy,
initiative, and self-certainty. Most adolescents have some ideological
diffusion at various developmental stages, as they experience a proliferation
of ideas and values. The diffusion is most pronounced and
most likely to become fixed, however, in those who have had no or very
minimal opportunities to develop the autonomy and initiative that could
have been directed into constructive expression and so served as sources
of developing self-certainty. A pronounced ideological
diffusion- i&e&, inability to <identify independently> with given
ideas and value systems- is reflected in many ways. For example,
it is evinced by the adolescent (or adult) whose beliefs and actions
represent primarily his rebellion and reaction again the ideas and behavior
patterns of others, rather than his inner conviction and choice.
It is mirrored by the individual Willie Lohmans, whose ideas and
behavior patterns are so dependent and relativistic that they always coincide
with those of the individual or group present and most important
at the moment. In another sense, it is represented in the arguments
of the "true believers" who seek to disprove the validity of all
other beliefs and ideas in order to retain confidence in theirs.

The case histories provide some interesting illustrations of ideological

diffusion, embodied in the unwed mother's inability to <identify
independently> with a given value system or behavior pattern, and
her subsequent disinclination to assume any individual responsibility
for her sexual behavior. For example, the unwed mothers expressed
their frustration with males who did not indicate more explicitly "what
it is they really want from a girl so one can act accordingly".
They were disappointed by the physical and emotional hurt of premarital
sexual intercourse. They condemned the movie script writers for implying
that sex was enjoyable and exhilarating. They criticized parents
for never having emphasized traditional concepts of right and wrong;
and they censured parents who "never disciplined and were too permissive"
or who "never explained how easy it was to get pregnant".

In the adult world, there are a number of rather general and

diffuse sources of ideological diffusion that further compound the
adolescent's search for meaning during this particular identity crisis.
For example, some contemporary writing tends to fuse the "good
guys" and the "bad guys", to portray the weak people as heroes and
weakness as a virtue, and to explain (or even justify) asocial behavior
by attributing it to deterministic psychological, familial, and social
experiences.
In the final accounting, these would have augmented the bill for both
sides. An estimate of one million dollars is probably not excessive.

Yet the huge amount of money consumed by the Selden litigation,

which many regarded as wasteful, indirectly contributed to constructive
changes in legal procedure. The duration and other circumstances
of the Selden case made it a flagrant example of the gross abuses of
patent infringement actions. The suit, as we have seen, came before
the courts when patent attorneys, inventors, and laymen were making mounting
demands for reforms in the American patent system. Chief among
the defects they singled out were the complicated and wearisome procedures
in equity. In a long and angry footnote to his opinion,
Judge Hough had lent the weight of judicial condemnation to such criticism.
"It is a duty", said Hough, "not to let pass this opportunity
of protesting against the methods of taking and printing testimony
in Equity, current in this circuit (and probably others), excused
if not justified by the rules of the Supreme Court, especially to
be found in patent causes, and flagrantly exemplified in this litigation.
As long as the bar prefers to adduce evidence by written deposition,
rather than <viva voce> before an authoritative judicial officer,
I fear that the antiquated rules will remain unchanged, and expensive
prolixity remain the best known characteristic of Equity". Observing
that "reforms sometimes begin with the contemplation of horrible
examples", Hough catalogued the many abuses encouraged by existing
procedures. He cited the elephantine dimensions of the Selden case
record; the duplication of testimony and exhibits; the numerous
squabbles over minor matters; the "objections stated at outrageous
length"; and the frequent and rancorous verbal bouts, "uncalled
for and
unjustifiable, from the retort discourteous to the lie direct".

The fundamental difficulty of which the Selden case was

"a striking (though not singular) example", concluded Hough, "will
remain as long as testimony is taken without any authoritative judicial
officer present, and responsible for the maintenance of discipline,
and the reception or exclusion of testimony". Not least
among the members of the patent bar who echoed this powerful indictment
were those who had participated in the Selden suit. William A&
Redding asserted that if the case had been heard in open court under
rules of evidence, the testimony would have been completed in sixty
days instead of five years. Inventors joined lawyers in the clamor for
reform, inevitably centering upon the Selden litigation as a "horrible
example". Its costive deliberations were likened to those of
the British courts of chancery mercilessly caricatured by Dickens in
<Bleak House>. Parker, who agreed with much of this criticism,
did not conceal his dissatisfaction with procedural defects. But
he felt that the Selden case was being unfairly pilloried. In a detailed
letter published in the <Scientific American> in 1912, he
remarked that "loose statements" about the case showed scant understanding
of the facts. The suit, although commonly designated as a single
action, actually embraced five cases. Parker insisted that the size
of the record would have been drastically reduced but for an unavoidable
duplication of testimony. In a private communication written
in 1911, Parker had been more to the point. Noting the complaints
of inventors and members of the patent bar, he admitted that some
of the strictures "were fairly well founded", but he added that under
existing rules the courts could not consolidate testimony in a group
of suits involving separate infringements of the same patent. The
vast industrial interests caught up in the Selden suit, as well as the
complex character of the automotive art, encouraged both sides to exploit
"every possible chance" for or against the patent, said Parker.
"This very seldom happens in this class or in other cases, and
of course all of these matters led to a volume and an expense of the
record beyond what ordinarily would occur". Parker listed the
remedies he deemed essential for reducing the cost and mass of testimony.
The most important of these found him in agreement with Hough's
plea for reform. Parker called for abolition of the indiscriminate
or uncontrolled right of taking depositions before officers of the court
who had no authority to limit testimony. The taking of depositions,
he suggested, should be placed under a special court examiner empowered
to compel responsive and relevant answers and to exclude immaterial
testimony. "I am satisfied that in the Selden case had this power
existed and this course [been] pursued, it would have shortened
the depositions of some of the experts nearly one-half and of some of
the other witnesses thereto more than that". In the end Hough's
acidulous protest, which Parker called the "now somewhat famous
note on this 'Selden' case", did not go unheeded. In 1912
the United States Supreme Court adopted a new set of rules of equity
which became effective on February 1, 1913. The revised procedure
was acclaimed as a long-overdue reform. Under the new rules, testimony
is taken orally in open court in all cases except those of an extraordinary
character. Other expeditious methods are designed to prevent
prolixity, limit delays, and reduce the expense of infringement suits.
One of the A&L&A&M& lawyers observed that if the Selden
case had been tried under this simplified procedure, the testimony
which filled more than a score of volumes, "at a minimum cost of $1
a page for publication alone, could have been contained in one volume".
While patent suits are still among the most complex and expensive
forms of litigation, these rules have saved litigants uncounted sums
of money. There is little doubt that they were promulgated by the Supreme
Court as a direct result of the Selden patent suit.

#3#

Even
before it was formally dissolved in 1912, the A&L&A&M&
was succeeded by the Automobile Board of Trade, the direct lineal
ancestor of the present-day Automobile Manufacturers Association.
The trade bodies which came in the wake of the A&L&A&M&
were more representative, for they never adopted a policy of exclusion.
Nevertheless, it is from the Selden organization that the industry
inherited its institutional machinery for furthering the broader interests
of the trade. One of the chief features of this community of interest
is the automotive patents cross-licensing agreement, a milestone
in the development of American industrial cooperation. Its origin
lies in the Selden patent controversy and its aftermath. From
the earliest days of the motor car industry, before the A&L&A&M&
was established, patent infringement loomed as a serious and
vexing problem. Many patent contests were waged over automobile components
and accessories, among them tires, detachable rims, ball bearings,
license brackets, and electric horns. The fluidity and momentum of
the young industry abetted a general disregard of patent claims. As
early as 1900 a Wall Street combination acquired detail patents with
the intention of exacting heavy tribute from automobile manufacturers.
This scheme failed, and the following decade brought a deluge of infringement
suits among individual manufacturers that reached its crest
in 1912. In this tangle of conflicting claims, the patent-sharing
scheme adopted by the A&L&A&M& at its founding proved
to be the best device for avoiding or mitigating the burdens of incessant
litigation. The interchange of shop licenses for a nominal royalty
eliminated infringement suits among the members of the A&L&A&M&
patent pool (although it did not protect them against outside
actions) and kept open channels for the cross-fertilization of automotive
technology. One of the conditions of the pool was a prohibition
upon the withholding of patent rights among A&L&A&M& members.
Within its limits, this arrangement had the actual or potential characteristics
of a cross-licensing agreement. Its positive features
outweighed the fact that the pool was an adjunct of a wouldbe monopoly.
Since the A&L&A&M& holdings embraced only about twenty-five
per cent of motor vehicle patents, the denial of rights to independent
companies did not retard technical progress in unlicensed sectors
of the industry. The highly important Dyer patents on the sliding
gear transmission were held by the A&L&A&M& pool. But Henry
Ford used the planetary transmission in his Model ~T and earlier
cars and, in 1905, as a precautionary measure, took out a license
from the man who claimed to be its inventor. For those affiliated
with it, the A&L&A&M& pool was a haven from the infringement
actions involving detail patents that beset the industry with mounting
intensity after 1900. By 1910 the courts were crowded with cases,
many of them brought by freebooters who trafficked in disputed inventions.
It was commonplace for auto makers, parts-suppliers, and dealers
to find warning notices and threats of infringement suits in their
daily mail. "Purely from the business man's standpoint and without
regard to the lawyer's view", commented a trade journal, "the
matter of patents in the automobile and accessory trade is developing
some phases and results that challenge thought as to how far patents
are to become weapons of warfare in business, instead of simple beneficient
protection devices for encouraging inventive creation".

Occasionally new enterprise was discouraged by the almost certain

prospect of legal complications. One manufacturer who held an allegedly
basic patent said: "I would readily put over $50,000 into the
manufacture of the device, but it is so easy to make that we would enter
immediately into a prolonged ordeal of patent litigation which would
eat up all our profits". The prevailing view in the industry was
summed up in 1912 by a group of auto makers who told a Senate committee:
"The exceedingly unsatisfactory and uselessly expensive conditions,
including delays surrounding legal disputes, particularly in patent
litigation, are items of industrial burden which must be written
large in figures of many millions of dollars of industrial waste".

By that time it was commonly agreed that patent warfare was sapping
constructive achievement and blocking the free exchange of technical
information. At this point Charles C& Hanch, long an advocate
of patent peace in the industry, became chairman of the patents committee
of the National Automobile Chamber of Commerce, successor
to the Automobile Board of Trade. Hanch was treasurer of the Nordyke
+ Marmon Company, an Indianapolis firm which had manufactured flour-milling
machinery before producing the Marmon car in 1904. He had
first-hand knowledge of the patent wars which had driven about ninety
per cent of the milling equipment makers out of business in the mid-1890's.
Anxious to avoid a similar debacle in the motor car industry,
Hanch went to Detroit in 1909 to enlist the support of leading
A&L&A&M& members for an industry-wide patent-sharing plan.
The breach created by the Selden patent doomed his proposal, but Hanch
did not abandon his scheme. After the demise of the A&L&A&M&,
the time was propitious for establishing such a pool.
Most manufacturers were now disposed to heed a proposal for the formal
interchange of patents. "It is a much easier course to agree to
let one another alone so far as ordinary patents are concerned", said
a trade authority, "than to continue the costly effort of straightening
the tangle in the courts or seeking to reform the patent system,
which appears to be getting into deeper confusion every day".

With the other members of the patents committee- Wilfred C& Leland,
Howard E& Coffin, Windsor T& White, and W& H&
Vandervoort- Hanch drafted a cross-licensing agreement whose essential
feature of royalty-free licensing was his own contribution. The
plan was supported by Frederick P& Fish, counsel for the National
Automobile Chamber of Commerce. It will be recalled that in his
summation for the A&L&A&M& before Judge Hough, Fish had
condemned patent litigation as the curse of the American industrial
community. He was well aware that some inventors and their allies used
their patents solely for nuisance value. "My personal view is that
not one patented invention in ten is worth making", he later told
a Congressional committee. The eloquent persuasions of Fish guaranteed
the adoption of the plan by the members of the automotive trade association.

Drawn up in 1914, the cross-licensing agreement became

effective in 1915. It remained in force for ten years and has been
renewed at five-year intervals since 1925.
A little farther along the road you come to the {Church of Santa
Sabina,} called the "Pearl of the Aventine". Continue another
hundred yards to the {Piazza of the Knights of Malta.} On the
wall of this square there are delightful bas-reliefs of musical instruments.
The massive {gate} of the Maltese villa affords one of
the most extraordinary views in Rome. If you look through the keyhole,
you will see an artistically landscaped garden with the white dome
of St& Peter's framed in a long avenue of cropped laurel trees.

Retrace your steps a few yards on the Via di Santa Sabina and
turn right on the {Via di S& Alessio,} a street lined with
stately homes. Oleanders, cypress, and palms in the spacious gardens
add much color and beauty to this attractive residential section. Turn
left a block or so before the street ends, and then turn right down
the Via di Santa Prisca to the {Viale Aventino.} Here you can
pick up a taxi or public transport to return to the center of the city.

#THE RENAISSANCE CITY#

_TO THE PIAZZA NAVONA AND PANTHEON_

These two walks take you through the {heart of Rome.} You will
walk some of the narrow, old streets, hemmed in by massive <palazzi>.
You will visit a few churches that are exceptional yet often by-passed,
a magnificent square, the main shopping district, the Spanish
Steps, and the lovely Pincian Gardens. By seeing such varied places,
both interesting and beautiful, you will become aware of the many
different civilizations Rome has lived through, and in particular, get
a feel of Renaissance Rome. You will realize why Rome is indeed
the Eternal City. Start on the Via d& Teatro di Marcello
at the foot of the {Capitoline Hill.} The majestic circular
tiers of stone of the {Theatre of Marcellus} give you some idea
of the huge edifice that the Emperor Augustus erected in 13 B&C&.
Twenty-two thousand spectators used to crowd it in Roman days.
Andrea Palladio, an Italian architect of the sixteenth century, modeled
his designs on its Doric and Ionic columns. Wander past
the three superb {Columns of Apollo} by the arches of the theatre.
The remains of the {Portico of Octavia} are now in front of
you. Climb the steps from the theatre to the Via della Tribuna di
Campitelli for an even better view of the Columns of Apollo.
Turn to the right along a narrow street to the tiny Piazza Campitelli,
then proceed along the Via dei Funari to the Piazza Mattei. Here
is one of the loveliest fountains in Rome, the {Fontana delle
Tartarughe} or {"Fountain of the Tortoises".} It's typical
of Rome that in the midst of this rather poor area you should find
such an artistic work in the center of a little square. Stand here
for a few moments and look at this gem of a fountain with its four youths,
each holding a tortoise and each with a foot resting on the head
of a dolphin. The figures have been executed so skillfully that one
senses a great feeling of life and movement. Opposite is the
{Palazzo Mattei,} one of Rome's oldest palaces, now the headquarters
of the {Italo-American Association.} Go inside for a closer
look at a Renaissance palace. In the first courtyard there are
some fine bas-reliefs and friezes, and in the second a series of delightful
terraced roof gardens above an ivy-covered wall. The {Palazzo
Caetani,} still inhabited by the Caetani family, adjoins the Palazzo
Mattei. Keep straight ahead on the Via Falegnami, cross
the wide Via Arenula, and you will come to the {Piazza B&
Cairoli,} where you should look in at the {Church of San Carlo
ai Catinari} to see the frescoes on the ceiling. Follow the colorful
and busy Via d& Giubbonari for a hundred yards or so. Now turn
left at the Via dell' Arco del Monte to the Piazza dei Pellegrini.
Just a few yards to the right on the Via Capo di Ferro will
bring you to the {Palazzo Spada,} built in 1540 and now occupied
by the {Council of State.} Paintings by Titian, Caravaggio,
and Rubens are on display (open 9:30-4:00). Before you enter
the palazzo, note Francesco Borromini's facade. The great architect
also designed the fine interior staircase and colonnade which
connects the two courts. The large statue on the first floor is believed
to be the {statue of Pompey} at the base of which Julius Caesar
was stabbed to death (if so, the statue once stood in the senate
house). (This is shown in the afternoon and on Sunday morning.)

By tipping the porter, you can see in the courtyard Borromini's

unusual and fascinating trick in perspective. When you stand before
the barrel-vaulted {colonnade} you have the impression that the statue
at
the end is at a considerable distance, yet it is actually only a few
feet away. The sense of perspective has been created by designing the
length of the columns so that those at the far end of the colonnade
are much shorter than those in front. The gardens of the <palazzo,>
shaded by a huge magnolia tree, are most attractive. The courtyard
is magnificently decorated. From the Palazzo Spada you continue
another block along the Via Capo di Ferro and Vicolo de Venti
to the imposing {Palazzo Farnese,} begun in 1514 and considered
by many to be the finest palace of all. Michelangelo was the most distinguished
of several noted architects who helped design it. Today it
is occupied by the {French Embassy.} Its lovely seventeenth-century
ceiling frescoes, as well as the huge guards room with a tremendously
high and beautifully carved wooden ceiling, can be seen Sundays
(11:00-12:00 noon). Ask to see the modern tapestries of Paris
and Rome designed by Lurcat. Directly in front of the palace
along the Via d& Baullari you will come to the {Campo di Fiori,}
the famous site of executions during the turbulent days of Renaissance
Rome. Today, by contrast it is a lively and colorful fruit,
vegetable, and flower market. Continue on the Via d& Baullari to
the Corso Vittorio Emanuele, then turn right for a couple of hundred
yards to the {Church of Sant' Andrea della Valle.} As you
approach the church on the Via d& Baullari you are passing within
yards of the remains of the {Roman Theatre of Pompey,} near which
is believed to have been the place where Julius Caesar was assassinated.
The dome of the church is, outside of {St& Peter's,}
one of the largest in Rome. Opera lovers will be interested to learn
that this church was the scene for the first act of <Tosca>.

At this point you cross the wide Corso Vittorio Emanuele /2,,
walk along the Corso del Rinascimento a couple of hundred yards,
then turn left on the Via dei Canestrani to enter the splendid {Piazza
Navona,} one of the truly glorious sights in Rome. Your
first impression of this elongated square with its three elegant fountains,
its two churches that almost face each other, and its russet-colored
buildings, is a sense of restful spaciousness- particularly
welcome after wandering around the narrow and dark streets that you have
followed since starting this walk. The site of the oblong
piazza is {Domitian's ancient stadium,} which was probably used
for horse and chariot races. For centuries it was the location of historic
festivals and open-air sports events. From the seventeenth to
the nineteenth century it was a popular practice to flood the piazza in
the summer, and the aristocrats would then ride around the inundated
square in their carriages. Giovanni Bernini's {"Fountain
of the Rivers",} in the center of the piazza, is built around
a Roman obelisk from the Circus of Maxentius which rests on grottoes
and rocks, with four huge figures, one at each corner, denoting four
great rivers from different continents- the Danube, the Ganges, the
Nile, and the Plate. The eyes of the figure of the Nile are covered,
perhaps either to symbolize the mystery of her source or to obscure
from her sight the baroque facade of the {Church of Sant' Agnese
in Agone}, the work of Bernini's rival, Borromini.
In the Piazza Navona there are many delightful cafes where you can
sit, have a drink or lunch, and watch the fountains in the square. The
scene before you is indeed theatrical and often appears in movies about
Rome. Perhaps a street musician will pass to add that extra touch.

Take the Via di S& Agnese in Agone, next to the church

and opposite the center of the square, then turn right after about
two hundred yards to reach the beautiful {Church of Santa Maria della
Pace.} Inside you will find the lovely Sibyls painted by Raphael
and a chapel designed by Michelangelo. The church's cloisters
are among Donato Bramante's most beautiful creations. Now
return to the Piazza Navona and leave it on the opposite side by the
Corsia Agonale; in a moment cross the Corso del Rinascimento.
In front of you is the {Palazzo Madama,} once belonging to the
Medici and now the {Italian Senate.} Walk by the side of the
palazzo and after two blocks along the Via Giustiniani you will come
to the {Piazza della Rotonda.} You are now facing the {Pantheon,}
the largest and best-preserved building still standing from the
days of ancient Rome. This circular edifice, constructed by
Agrippa in B&C& 27, was rebuilt in its present shape by the Emperor
Hadrian. It was dedicated as a church in the seventh century.
As you pause in the piazza by the Egyptian obelisk brought from the
Temple of Isis, you will admire the Pantheon's impressive Corinthian
columns. The Pantheon's interior, still in its original
form, is truly majestic and an architectural triumph. Its {rotunda}
forms a perfect circle whose diameter is equal to the height from
the floor to the ceiling. The only means of interior light is the
twenty-nine-foot-wide aperture in the stupendous {dome.} Standing
before the tomb of Raphael, the great genius of the Renaissance, when
shafts of sunlight are penetrating this great Roman temple, you are
once again reminded of the varied civilizations so characteristic of
Rome. As you leave the Pantheon, take the narrow street to
the right, the Via del Seminario, a block to {Sant' Ignazio,}
one of the most splendid baroque churches in the city. (Along the way
there, about one hundred yards on your right, you pass a simple restaurant,
{La Sacrestia,} where you can have the best pizza in Rome.)
The curve of faded terra-cotta-colored houses in front of the church
seems like a stage set. This is one of the most charming little
squares in this part of Rome. One block along the Via de Burro (in
front of the church) will bring you to the {Stock Exchange} in
the old {Temple of Neptune.} A few yards farther, on the Via
dei Bergamaschi, is the {Piazza Colonna.} The great column from
which the square takes its name was erected by the Emperor Marcus
Aurelius. You are now at the {Corso,} though narrow, one
of Rome's busiest streets. Horse races took place here in the Middle
Ages. If you have taken this stroll in the morning, and you have
the time and inclination, walk to the right along the crowded Corso
for half a dozen blocks to visit the fine private collection of paintings-
mainly of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries- in the
{Palazzo Doria} (open Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday, 10:00-1:00).
Here is your opportunity to see the inside of a palazzo where
the family still lives. Otherwise, cross over the Corso and
walk a block or so to the left. You will come to {Alemagna,} a
delightful, though moderately expensive restaurant, which is particularly
noted for its exceptional selection of ice creams and patisseries.
Either here, or in one of the modest restaurants nearby, is just the
place to end this first walk through the heart of Rome. _TO THE SPANISH
STEPS_ The second walk through the heart of Rome should be taken
after lunch, so that you will reach the {Pincian Hill} when
the soft light of the late afternoon is at its best.
Rare, indeed, is the Harlem citizen, from the most circumspect church
member to the most shiftless adolescent, who does not have a long tale
to tell of police incompetence, injustice, or brutality. I myself
have witnessed and endured it more than once. The businessmen and racketeers
also have a story. And so do the prostitutes. (And this is not,
perhaps, the place to discuss Harlem's very complex attitude toward
black policemen, nor the reasons, according to Harlem, that they
are nearly all downtown.) It is hard, on the other hand, to blame
the policeman, blank, good-natured, thoughtless, and insuperably
innocent, for being such a perfect representative of the people he serves.
He, too, believes in good intentions and is astounded and offended
when they are not taken for the deed. He has never, himself, done
anything for which to be hated- which of us has?- and yet he is
facing, daily and nightly, people who would gladly see him dead, and he
knows it. There is no way for him not to know it: there are few things
under heaven more unnerving than the silent, accumulating contempt
and hatred of a people. He moves through Harlem, therefore, like
an occupying soldier in a bitterly hostile country; which is precisely
what, and where, he is, and is the reason he walks in twos and threes.
And he is not the only one who knows why he is always in company:
the people who are watching him know why, too. Any street meeting,
sacred or secular, which he and his colleagues uneasily cover has as
its explicit or implicit burden the cruelty and injustice of the white
domination. And these days, of course, in terms increasingly vivid and
jubilant, it speaks of the end of that domination. The white policeman
standing on a Harlem street corner finds himself at the very center
of the revolution now occurring in the world. He is not prepared
for it- naturally, nobody is- and, what is possibly much more to the
point, he is exposed, as few white people are, to the anguish of the
black people around him. Even if he is gifted with the merest mustard
grain of imagination, something must seep in. He cannot avoid observing
that some of the children, in spite of their color, remind him of
children he has known and loved, perhaps even of his own children. He
knows that he certainly does not want <his> children living this
way. He can retreat from his uneasiness in only one direction: into
a callousness which very shortly becomes second nature. He becomes more
callous, the population becomes more hostile, the situation grows
more tense, and the police force is increased. One day, to everyone's
astonishment, someone drops a match in the powder keg and everything
blows up. Before the dust has settled or the blood congealed, editorials,
speeches, and civil-rights commissions are loud in the land, demanding
to know what happened. What happened is that Negroes want to
be treated like men. <Negroes want to be treated like men:>
a perfectly straightforward statement, containing only seven words.
People who have mastered Kant, Hegel, Shakespeare, Marx, Freud,
and the Bible find this statement utterly impenetrable. The idea seems
to threaten profound, barely conscious assumptions. A kind of panic
paralyzes their features, as though they found themselves trapped on
the edge of a steep place. I once tried to describe to a very well-known
American intellectual the conditions among Negroes in the South.
My recital disturbed him and made him indignant; and he asked me
in perfect innocence, "Why don't all the Negroes in the South
move North"? I tried to explain what <has> happened, unfailingly,
whenever a significant body of Negroes move North. They do not
escape Jim Crow: they merely encounter another, not-less-deadly
variety. They do not move to Chicago, they move to the South Side;
they do not move to New York, they move to Harlem. The pressure
within the ghetto causes the ghetto walls to expand, and this expansion
is always violent. White people hold the line as long as they can,
and in as many ways as they can, from verbal intimidation to physical
violence. But inevitably the border which has divided the ghetto from
the rest of the world falls into the hands of the ghetto. The white
people fall back bitterly before the black horde; the landlords make
a tidy profit by raising the rent, chopping up the rooms, and all but
dispensing with the upkeep; and what has once been a neighborhood
turns into a "turf". This is precisely what happened when the Puerto
Ricans arrived in their thousands- and the bitterness thus caused
is, as I write, being fought out all up and down those streets.

Northerners indulge in an extremely dangerous luxury. They seem

to feel that because they fought on the right side during the Civil
War, and won, they have earned the right merely to deplore what is going
on in the South, without taking any responsibility for it; and
that they can ignore what is happening in Northern cities because what
is happening in Little Rock or Birmingham is worse. Well, in the
first place, it is not possible for anyone who has not endured both
to know which is "worse". I know Negroes who prefer the South and
white Southerners, because "At least there, you haven't got to
play any guessing games"! The guessing games referred to have driven
more than one Negro into the narcotics ward, the madhouse, or the
river. I know another Negro, a man very dear to me, who says, with
conviction and with truth, "The spirit of the South is the spirit
of America". He was born in the North and did his military training
in the South. He did not, as far as I can gather, find the South
"worse"; he found it, if anything, all too familiar. In the
second place, though, even if Birmingham <is> worse, no doubt
Johannesburg, South Africa, beats it by several miles, and Buchenwald
was one of the worst things that ever happened in the entire history
of the world. The world has never lacked for horrifying examples;
but I do not believe that these examples are meant to be used as justification
for our own crimes. This perpetual justification empties
the heart of all human feeling. The emptier our hearts become, the greater
will be our crimes. Thirdly, the South is not merely an embarrassingly
backward region, but a part of this country, and what happens
there concerns every one of us. As far as the color problem
is concerned, there is but one great difference between the Southern
white and the Northerner: the Southerner remembers, historically and
in his own psyche, a kind of Eden in which he loved black people and
they loved him. Historically, the flaming sword laid across this Eden
is the Civil War. Personally, it is the Southerner's sexual
coming of age, when, without any warning, unbreakable taboos are set
up between himself and his past. Everything, thereafter, is permitted
him except the love he remembers and has never ceased to need. The resulting,
indescribable torment affects every Southern mind and is the
basis of the Southern hysteria. None of this is true for the
Northerner. Negroes represent nothing to him personally, except, perhaps,
the dangers of carnality. He never sees Negroes. Southerners
see them all the time. Northerners never think about them whereas Southerners
are never really thinking of anything else. Negroes are,
therefore, ignored in the North and are under surveillance in the South,
and suffer hideously in both places. Neither the Southerner nor
the Northerner is able to look on the Negro simply as a man. It seems
to be indispensable to the national self-esteem that the Negro be
considered either as a kind of ward (in which case we are told how many
Negroes, comparatively, bought Cadillacs last year and how few,
comparatively,
were lynched), or as a victim (in which case we are promised
that he will never vote in our assemblies or go to school with our
kids). They are two sides of the same coin and the South will not change-
<cannot> change- until the North changes. The country will
not change until it re-examines itself and discovers what it really
means by freedom. In the meantime, generations keep being born, bitterness
is increased by incompetence, pride, and folly, and the world shrinks
around us. It is a terrible, an inexorable, law that one
cannot deny the humanity of another without diminishing one's own:
in the face of one's victim, one sees oneself. Walk through the
streets of Harlem and see what we, this nation, have become.

#4. EAST
RIVER, DOWNTOWN: POSTSCRIPT TO A LETTER FROM HARLEM#

THE
FACT THAT AMERICAN NEgroes rioted in the U&N& while Adlai
Stevenson was addressing the Assembly shocked and baffled most white
Americans. Stevenson's speech, and the spectacular disturbance
in the gallery, were both touched off by the death, in Katanga, the
day before, of Patrice Lumumba. Stevenson stated, in the course of
his address, that the United States was "against" colonialism. God
knows what the African nations, who hold 25 per cent of the voting
stock in the U&N& were thinking- they may, for example, have
been thinking of the U&S& abstention when the vote on Algerian
freedom was before the Assembly- but I think I have a fairly accurate
notion of what the Negroes in the gallery were thinking. I had
intended to be there myself. It was my first reaction upon hearing
of Lumumba's death. I was curious about the impact of this political
assassination on Negroes in Harlem, for Lumumba had- has- captured
the popular imagination there. I was curious to know if Lumumba's
death, which is surely among the most sinister of recent events,
would elicit from "our" side anything more than the usual, well-meaning
rhetoric. And I was curious about the African reaction.

However, the chaos on my desk prevented my being in the U&N&

gallery. Had I been there, I, too, in the eyes of most Americans,
would have been merely a pawn in the hands of the Communists. The
climate and the events of the last decade, and the steady pressure of
the "cold" war, have given Americans yet another means of avoiding
self-examination, and so it has been decided that the riots were "Communist"
inspired. Nor was it long, naturally, before prominent
Negroes rushed forward to assure the republic that the U&N& rioters
do not represent the real feeling of the Negro community.
According, then, to what I take to be the prevailing view, these rioters
were merely a handful of irresponsible, Stalinist-corrupted <provocateurs>.

I find this view amazing. It is a view which even

a minimal effort at observation would immediately contradict. One
has only, for example, to walk through Harlem and ask oneself two questions.
The first question is: Would <I> like to live here?
And the second question is: Why don't those who now live here move
out? The answer to both questions is immediately obvious. Unless
one takes refuge in the theory- however disguised- that Negroes
are, somehow, different from white people, I do not see how one can
escape the conclusion that the Negro's status in this country is
not only a cruel injustice but a grave national liability. Now,
I do not doubt that, among the people at the U&N& that day, there
were Stalinist and professional revolutionists acting out of the
most cynical motives. Wherever there is great social discontent, these
people are, sooner or later, to be found. Their presence is not as
frightening as the discontent which creates their opportunity. What
I find appalling- and really dangerous- is the American assumption
that the Negro is so contented with his lot here that only the cynical
agents of a foreign power can rouse him to protest. It is a notion
which contains a gratuitous insult, implying, as it does, that Negroes
can make no move unless they are manipulated.
Color was delayed until 1935, the wide screen until the early fifties.

Movement itself was the chief and often the only attraction
of the primitive movies of the nineties. Each film consisted of fifty
feet, which gives a running time of about one minute on the screen.
As long as audiences came to see the movement, there seemed little reason
to adventure further. Motion-picture exhibitions took place in stores
in a general atmosphere like that of the penny arcade which can
still be found in such urban areas as Times Square. Brief snips of
actual events were shown: parades, dances, street scenes. The sensational
and frightening enjoyed popularity: a train rushes straight at
the audience, or a great wave threatens to break over the seats. An
early Edison production was <The Execution of Mary, Queen of Scots>.
The unfortunate queen mounted the scaffold; the headsman swung
his axe; the head dropped off; end of film. An early film by
a competitor of the Wizard of Menlo Park simply showed a long kiss
performed by two actors of the contemporary stage. In the field
of entertainment there is no spur to financial daring so effective
as audience boredom, and the first decade of the new device was not over
before audiences began staying away in large numbers from the simple-minded,
one-minute shows. In response, the industry allowed the discovery
of the motion picture as a form of fiction and thus gave the movies
the essential form they have had to this day. Despite the sheer
beauty and spectacle of numerous documentaries, art films, and travelogues,
despite the impressive financial success of such a recent development
as Cinerama, the movies are at heart a form of fiction, like the
play, the novel, or the short story. Moreover, the most artistically
successful of the nonfiction films have invariably borrowed the narrative
form from the fiction feature. Thus such great American documentaries
as <The River> and <The Plow That Broke the Plains>
were composed as visual stories rather than as illustrated lectures.
The discovery that movies are a form of fiction was made in the early
years of this century and it was made chiefly by two men, a French
magician, Georges Melies, and an American employee of Edison, Edwin
S& Porter. Of the two, Porter is justly the better known, for
he went far beyond the vital finding of fiction for films to take the
first step toward fashioning a language of film, toward making the motion
picture the intricate, efficient time machine that it has remained
since, even in the most inept hands.

#NARRATIVE TIME AND FILM TIME#

Melies, however, out of his professional instincts as a magician,

discovered and made use of a number of illusionary techniques that remain
part of the vocabulary of film. One of these is the "dissolve",
which makes possible a visually smooth transition from scene to scene.
As the first scene begins to fade, the succeeding scene begins
to appear. For a moment or two, both scenes are present simultaneously,
one growing weaker, one growing stronger. In a series of fairy tales
and fantasies, Melies demonstrated that the film is superbly equipped
to tell a straightforward story, with beginning, middle and end, complications,
resolutions, climaxes, and conclusions. Immediately, the
film improved and it improved because in narrative it found a content
based on time to complement its own unbreakable connection with time.
Physically, a movie is possible because a series of images is projected
one at a time at such a speed that the eye "remembers" the one
that has gone before even as it registers the one now appearing. Linking
the smoothly changing images together, the eye itself endows them
with the illusion of movement. The "projection" time of painting
and sculpture is highly subjective, varying from person to person and
even varying for a given person on different occasions. So is the time
of the novel. The drama in the theater and the concert in the hall
both have a fixed time, but the time is fixed by the director and the
players, the conductor and the instrumentalists, subject, therefore,
to much variation, as record collectors well know. The time of the motion
picture is fixed absolutely. The film consists of a series of still,
transparent photographs, or "frames", 35-mm&-wide. Each frame
comes between the light and the lens and is individually projected
on the screen, at the rate, for silent movies, of 16 frames per second,
and, for sound films, 24 frames per second. This is the rate of projection;
it is also the rate of photographing. Time is built into
the motion picture, which cannot exist without time. Now time is also
the concern of the fictional narrative, which is, at its simplest,
the story of an action with, usually, a beginning, a middle, and an end-
elements which demand time as the first condition for their existence.
The "moving" picture of the train or the wave coming at the
audience is, to be sure, more intense than a still picture of the same
subject, but the difference is really one of degree; the cinematic
element of time is merely used to increase the realism of an object which
would still be reasonably realistic in a still photo. In narrative,
time is essential, as it is in film. Almost everything about the
movies that is peculiarly <of> the movies derives from a tension created
and maintained between narrative time and film time. This discovery
of Melies was vastly more important than his sometimes dazzling,
magician's tricks produced on film. It was Porter, however,
who produced the very first movie whose name has lived on through the
half century of film history that has since ensued. The movie was <The
Great Train Robbery> and its effects on the young industry and
art were all but incalculable. Overnight, for one thing, Porter's
film multiplied the standard running time of movies by ten. <The
Great Train Robbery> is a one-reel film. One reel- from eight to
twelve minutes- became the standard length from the year of <Robbery>,
1903, until Griffith shattered that limit forever with <Birth of
a Nation> in 1915. The reel itself became and still is the standard
of measure for the movies. The material of the Porter film
is simplicity itself; much of it has continued to be used over the
years and the heart of it- good guys and bad guys in the old West-
pretty well dominated television toward the end of the 1950's. A
band of robbers enters a railroad station, overpowers and ties up the
telegraph operator, holds up the train and escapes. A posse is formed
and pursues the robbers, who, having made their escape, are whooping
it up with some wild, wild women in a honky-tonk hide-out. The robbers
run from the hide-out, take cover in a wooded declivity, and are shot
dead by the posse. As a finale is appended a close-up of one of the
band taking aim and firing his revolver straight at the audience.

All this is simple enough, but in telling the story Porter did
two important things that had not been done before. Each scene is shot
straight through, as had been the universal custom, from a camera fixed
in a single position, but in the outdoor scenes, especially in the
capture and destruction of the outlaws, Porter's camera position
breaks, necessarily, with the camera position standard until then, which
had been, roughly, that of a spectator in a center orchestra seat at
a play. The plane of the action in the scene is not parallel with the
plane of the film in the camera or on the screen. If the change, at
first sight, seems minor, we may recall that it took the Italian painters
about two hundred years to make an analogous change, and the Italian
painters, by universal consent, were the most brilliant group of
geniuses any art has seen. In that apparently simple shift Porter
opened the way to the sensitive use of the camera as an instrument of
art as well as a mechanical recording device. He did more than
that. He revealed the potential value of the "cut" as the basic
technique in the art of the film. Cutting, of course, takes place automatically
in the creation of a film. The meaning of the word is quite
physical, to begin with. The physical film is cut with a knife at the
end of one complete sequence, and the cut edge is joined physically,
by cement, to the cut edge of the beginning of the next sequence. If,
as a home movie maker, you shoot the inevitable footage of your child
taking its first steps, you have merely recorded an historical event.
If, in preparing that shot for the inevitable showing to your friends,
you interrupt the sequence to paste in a few frames of the child's
grandmother watching this event, you have begun to be an artist in
film; you are employing the basic technique of film; you are cutting.

This is what Porter did. As the robbers leave the looted

train, the film suddenly cuts back to the station, where the telegrapher's
little daughter arrives with her father's dinner pail only
to find him bound on the floor. She dashes around in alarm. The two
events are taking place at the same time. Time and space have both become
cinematic. We leap from event to event- including the formation
of the posse- even though the events, in "reality" are taking
place not in sequence but simultaneously, and not near each other but
at a considerable distance. The "chase" as a standard film
device probably dates from <The Great Train Robbery>, and there
is a reason for the continued popularity of the device. The chase in
itself is a narrative; it presumes both speed and urgency and it demands
cutting- both from pursued to pursuer and from stage to stage
of the journey of both. The simple, naked idea of one man chasing another
is of its nature better fitted for the film than it is for any other
form of fiction. The cowboy films, the cops and robbers films, and
the slapstick comedy films culminating in an insane chase are not
only catering to what critics may assume to be a vulgar taste for violence;
these films and these sequences are also seeking out- instinctively
or by design- the peculiarly cinematic elements of narrative.

#THE CREATOR OF THE ART OF THE FILM: D&W&GRIFFITH#

There
still remained the need for one great film artist to explore the full
potential of the new form and to make it an art. The man was D&W&
Griffith. When he came to the movies- more or less by accident-
they were still cheap entertainment capable of enthralling the unthinking
for an idle few minutes. In about seven years Griffith either
invented or first realized the possibilities of virtually every resource
at the disposal of the film maker. Before he was forty Griffith
had created the art of the film. Not that there had not been
attempts, mostly European, to do exactly that. But in general the European
efforts to make an art of the entertainment had ignored the slowly
emerging language of the film itself. Staggeringly condensed versions
of famous novels and famous plays were presented. Great actors
and actresses- the most notable being Sarah Bernhardt- were hired
to repeat their stage performances before the camera. In all of this
extensive and expensive effort, the camera was downgraded to the status
of recording instrument for art work produced elsewhere by the actor
or by the author. The phonograph today, for all its high fidelity
and stereophonic sound, is precisely what the early art purveyors in
the movies wished to make of the camera. Not surprisingly, this approach
did not work. The effort produced a valuable record of stage techniques
in the early years of the century and some interesting records
of great theater figures who would otherwise be only names. But no art
at all was born of the art effort in the early movies.
In general, religious interest seems to exist in all parts of the metropolis;
congregational membership, however, is another thing. A congregation
survives only if it can sustain a socially homogeneous membership;
that is, when it can preserve economic integration. Religious
faith can be considered a <necessary> condition of membership in
a congregation, since the decision to join a worshiping group requires
some motive force, but faith is not a <sufficient> condition for joining;
the presence of other members of similar social and economic
level is the <sufficient> condition. The breakdown of social
homogeneity in inner city areas and the spread of inner city blight account
for the decline of central city churches. Central cities reveal
two adverse features for the major denominations: (1) central cities
tend to be areas of residence for lower social classes; (2) central
cities tend to be more heterogeneous in social composition. The central
city areas, in other words, exhibit the two characteristics which
violate the life principle of congregations of the major denominations:
they have too few middle-class people; they mix middle-class people
with lower-class residents. Central city areas have become progressively
poorer locales for the major denominations since the exodus
of middle-class people from most central cities. With few exceptions,
the major denominations are rapidly losing their hold on the central
city. The key to Protestant development, therefore, is economic
integration of the nucleus of the congregation. Members of higher
and lower social status often cluster around this nucleus, so that Protestant
figures on social class give the impression of spread over all
social classes; but this is deceptive, for the core of membership
is
concentrated in a single social and economic stratum. The congregation
perishes when it is no longer possible to replenish that core from the
neighborhood; moreover, residential mobility is so high in metropolitan
areas that churches have to recruit constantly in their core stratum
in order to survive; they can lose higher- and lower-status members
from the church without collapsing, but they need adequate recruits
for the core stratum in order to preserve economic integration. The
congregation is first and foremost an economic peer group; it is
secondarily a believing and worshiping fellowship. If it were primarily
a believing fellowship, it would recruit believers from all social
and economic ranks, something which most congregations of the New Protestantism
(with a few notable exceptions) have not been able to do.
They survive only when they can recruit social and economic peers.

The vulnerability of Protestant congregations to social differences

has often been attributed to the "folksy spirit" of Protestant
religious life; in fact, a contrast is often drawn in this regard
with the "impersonal" Roman Catholic parish. We have seen that
the folksy spirit is confined to economic peers; consequently, the
vulnerability to social difference should not be attributed to the stress
on personal community in Protestant congregations; actually, there
is little evidence of such personal community in Protestant congregations,
as we shall see in another connection. The vulnerability of
Protestantism to social differences stems from the peculiar role of
the new religious style in middle-class life, where the congregation is
a vehicle of social and economic group identity and must conform, therefore,
to the principle of economic integration. This fact is evident
in the recruitment of new members.

#MISSION AS CO-OPTATION#

The
rule of economic integration in congregational life can be seen in the
missionary outreach of the major denominations. There is much talk
in theological circles about the "Church as Mission" and the "Church's
Mission"; theologians have been stressing the fact that
the Church does not exist for its own sake but as a testimony in
the world for the healing of the world. A crucial question, therefore,
is what evangelism and mission actually mean in metropolitan Protestantism.
If economic integration really shapes congregational life, then
evangelism should be a process of extending economic integration.
The task of a congregation would be defined, according to economic integration,
as the work of co-opting individuals and families of similar
social and economic position to replenish the nuclear core of the congregation.
(Co-optation means to choose by joint action in order to
fill a vacancy; it can also mean the assimilation of centers of power
from an environment in order to strengthen an organization.) In a
mobile society, congregational health depends on a constant process of
recruitment; this recruitment, however, must follow the pattern of
economic integration or it will disrupt the congregation; therefore,
the recruitment or missionary outreach of the congregation will be co-optation
rather than proclamation- like elements will have to be assimilated.

Evangelism and congregational outreach have not been

carefully studied in the churches; one study in Pittsburgh, however,
has illuminated the situation. In a sample of new members of Pittsburgh
churches, almost 60 per cent were recruited by initial "contacts
with friendly members". If we add to these contacts with friendly
members the "contacts with an organization of the church" (11.2
per cent of the cases), then a substantial two thirds of all recruitment
is through friendly contact. On the surface, this seems a sound
approach to Christian mission: members of the congregation show by
their friendly attitudes that they care for new people; the new people
respond in kind by joining the church. Missionary outreach
by friendly contact looks somewhat different when one reflects on what
is known about friendly contact in metropolitan neighborhoods; the majority
of such contacts are with people of similar social and economic
position; association by level of achievement is the dominant principle
of informal relations. This means that the antennae of the congregation
are extended into the community, picking up the wave lengths
of those who will fit into the social and economic level of the congregation;
the mission of the church is actually a process of informal
co-optation; the lay ministry is a means to recruit like-minded people
who will strengthen the social class nucleus of the congregation.
Churches can be strengthened through this process of co-optation so long
as the environs of the church provide a sufficient pool of people
who can fit the pattern of economic integration; once the pool of recruits
diminishes, the congregation is helpless- friendly contacts no
longer keep it going. The transmutation of mission to co-optation
is further indicated by the insignificance of educational activities,
worship, preaching, and publicity in reaching new members. The
proclamation of the churches is almost totally confined to pastoral contacts
by the clergy (17.3 per cent of new members) and friendly contacts
by members (over two thirds if organizational activities are included).
Publicity accounted for 1.1 per cent of the initial contacts with
new members. In general, friendly contact with a member followed by
contact with a clergyman will account for a major share of recruitment
by the churches, making it quite evident that the extension of economic
integration through co-optation is the principal form of mission
in the contemporary church; economic integration and co-optation are
the two methods by which Protestants associate with and recruit from
the neighborhood. The inner life of congregations will prosper so long
as like-minded people of similar social and economic level can fraternize
together; the outer life of congregations- the suitability
of the environment to their survival- will be propitious so long as
the people in the area are of the same social and economic level as the
membership. Economic integration ceases when the social and economic
statuses in an area become too mixed or conflict with the status of
the congregation. In a rapidly changing society congregations will run
into difficulties repeatedly, since such nice balances of economic integration
are hard to sustain in the metropolis for more than a single
generation. The fact that metropolitan churches of the major denominations
have moved approximately every generation for the last hundred
years becomes somewhat more intelligible in the light of this struggle
to maintain economic balance. The expense of this type of organization
in religious life, when one recalls the number of city churches which
deteriorated beyond repair before being abandoned, raises fundamental
questions about the principle of Protestant survival in a mobile
society; nonetheless, the prevalence of economic integration in congregations
illumines the nature of the Protestant development.
It was observed in the introductory chapter that metropolitan life had
split into two trends- expanding interdependence on an impersonal
basis and growing exclusiveness in local communal groupings. These trends
seem to be working at cross-purposes in the metropolis. Residential
associations struggle to insulate themselves against intrusions.
The motifs of impersonal interdependence and insulation of residential
communities have polarized; the schism between central city and suburb,
Negro and White, blue collar and white collar can be viewed as
symptomatic of this deeper polarization of trends in the metropolis.
It now becomes evident that the denominational church is intimately involved
with the economy of middle-class culture, for it serves to crystallize
the social class identity of middle-class residential groupings.
The accelerated pace of metropolitan changes has accentuated the
drive to conformity in congregations of the major denominations. This
conformity represents a desperate attempt to stabilize a hopelessly unstable
environment. More than creatures of metropolitan forces, the
churches have taken the lead in counteracting the interdependence of metropolitan
life, crystallizing and perpetuating the stratification of
peoples, giving form to the struggle for social homogeneity in a world
of heterogeneous peoples. Since American life is committed
above all to productivity and a higher standard of economic life, the
countervailing forces of residential and religious exclusiveness have
fought a desperate, rearguard action against the expanding interdependence
of the metropolis. Consumer communities have suffered at the hands
of the productive interests. Negroes, Puerto Ricans, and rural
newcomers are slowly making their way into the cities. Soon they will
fight their way into the lower middle-class suburbs, and the churches
will experience the same decay and rebuilding cycle which has characterized
their history for a century. The identification of the basic unit
of religious organization- the parish or congregation- with a
residential area is self-defeating in a modern metropolis, for it simply
means the closing of an iron trap on the outreach of the Christian
fellowship and the transmutation of mission to co-optation. Mission
to the metropolis contradicts survival of the congregation in the residential
community, because the middle classes are fighting metropolitan
interdependence with residential exclusion. This interpretation
of the role of residence in the economy of middle-class culture could
lead to various projections for the churches. It could be argued
that any fellowship which centers in residential neighborhoods is doomed
to become an expression of the panic for stable identity among the
middle classes. It could be argued that only such neighborhoods can sustain
religious activity, since worship presupposes some local stabilities.
Whatever projection one makes, the striking fact about congregational
and parochial life is the extent to which it is a vehicle of the
social identity of middle-class people. Attention will be given
in the next chapter to the style of association in the denominational
churches; this style is characteristically an expression of the
communal style of the middle classes. The keynotes of this style are
activism and emphasis on achievements in gaining self-esteem. These
values give direction to the life of the middle-class man or woman, dictating
the methods of child rearing, determining the pattern of community
participation, setting the style for the psychiatric treatment of
middle-class illness, and informing the congregational life of the major
denominations. "Fellowship by likeness" and "mission by friendly
contact" form the iron cage of denominational religion. Its contents
are another matter, for they reveal the kinds of interests pursued
by the congregation. What goes on in the cage will occupy our attention
under the rubric of the organization church. An understanding
of the new role of residential association in an industrial society
serves to illuminate the forces which have fashioned the iron cage of
conformity which imprisons the churches in their suburban captivity.

The perplexing question still remains as to why the middle classes

turn to the churches as a vehicle of social identity when their clubs
and charities should fill the same need.
With capital largely squandered, there seemed to them no other course
to pursue. The directors sold directly to concessionaires, who
had to make their profits above the high prices asked by the company.
These concessionaires traded where they wished and generally dealt
with the Indians through <engages>, who might be <habitants, voyageurs>,
or even soldiers. The concessionaires also had to pay a tax of
one-tenth on the goods they traded, and all pelts were to be taken to
company stores and shipped to France in company ships. The company
disposed of the pelts, but with what profit, the records do not show.

In accord with its penurious policy, the company failed to furnish

presents to hold the loyalty of the principal Indians. The lavish
use of presents had been effective in expanding the Indian trade
of New France and Louisiana in the previous century, and the change
in liberality aroused resentment in the minds of the red men. Traders
from the English colonies were far more generous, and Indian loyalty
turned to them. Protests from governors and intendants passed unheeded,
and the parsimonious policy of the company probably let loose Indian
insurrections that brought ruin to the company. In 1721
the King sent three commissioners to Louisiana with full powers to do
all that was necessary to protect the colony. They ordered the raising
of troops and obtained 75,000 livres with which to build forts. They
adopted a program by which Louisiana was divided into five districts.
In each of these there was to be a strong military post, and a trading
depot to supply the smaller trading houses. For southeastern
Louisiana,
Mobile was the principal post, and it was to furnish supplies
for trade to the north and east, in the region threatened by British
traders. Mobile was to be the anchor of a chain of posts extending
northward to the sources of the Tennessee River. Fort Toulouse,
on the Alabama River, had been erected in 1714 for trade with the Alabamas
and Choctaws, but money was available for only one other new
post, near the present Nashville, Tennessee, and this was soon abandoned.

West of the Mobile district was the lower Mississippi

district, of which New Orleans was headquarters. Dependent upon it
were posts on the lower Mississippi and the region westward to the frontiers
of New Spain. On the middle Mississippi a principal
post was to be located near the mouth of the Arkansas. It was hoped
that to this post would flow a large quantity of furs from the west,
principally down the Arkansas River. On the Ohio or Wabash was to
be built another post "at the fork of two great rivers". Other
posts would be established up the Ohio and Wabash to protect communication
with Canada. On the upper Mississippi the Illinois post was
to be established near Kaskaskia, and dependent posts were to be built
on the Missouri, "where there are mines in abundance".
Each of the five principal posts was to have a director, responsible
to a director-general at New Orleans. An elaborate system of accounting
and reports was worked out, and the trade was to be managed in the
most scientific way. Concessionaires were to be under the supervision
of the directors. <Engages> must be loyal to the concessionaires,
and must serve until the term provided in the engagement was ended.
The <habitants> were to be encouraged to trade and were to dispose
of their pelts to the concessionaires. Only two principal storehouses
were actually established- one at Mobile, the other at New
Orleans. New Orleans supplied the goods for the trade on the Mississippi,
and west of that river, and on the Ohio and Wabash. Mobile
was also supplied by New Orleans with goods for the Mobile district.

The power that Bienville exercised during his first administration

cannot be determined. Regulations for the Indian trade were
made by the <Conseil superieure de la Louisiane>, and Bienville
apparently did not have control of that body. The <Conseil> even
treated the serious matter of British aggression as its business and,
on its own authority, sent to disaffected savages merchandise "suitable
for the peltry trade". It decided, also, that the purely secular
efforts of Bienville were insufficient, and sent missionaries to
win the savages from the heathen Carolinians. During the first
administration of Bienville, the peltry trade of the Mobile district
was a lucrative source of revenue. The Alabamas brought in annually
15,000 to 20,000 deerskins, and the Choctaws and Chickasaws brought
the total up to 50,000 pelts. These deerskins were the raw material
for the manufacture of leather, and were the only articles which the
tribes of this district had to exchange for European goods.
During his first administration, Bienville succeeded in keeping Carolina
traders out of the Alabama country and the Choctaw country. The
director of the post at Mobile kept an adequate amount of French
goods, of a kind to which they were accustomed, to supply the Indian
needs. The Alabama and Tombigbee rivers furnished a highway by which
goods could be moved quickly and cheaply. De la Laude, commander
of the Alabama post, had the friendship of the natives, and was able
to make them look upon the British as poor competitors. Diron d'Artaguette,
the most prominent trader in the district, was energetic and
resourceful, but his methods often aroused the ire of the French governors.
He became, after a time, commander of a post on the Alabama
River, but his operations extended from Mobile throughout the district,
and he finally obtained a monopoly of the Indian trade. The
Chickasaws were the principal source of trouble in the Mobile district.
Their territory lay to the north, near the sources of the Alabama,
the Tombigbee, the Tennessee, and Cumberland rivers, and was
easily accessible to traders among the near-by Cherokees. In 1720 some
Chickasaws massacred the French traders among them, and did not
make peace for four years. Venturesome traders, however, continued to
come to them from Mobile, and to obtain a considerable number of pelts
for the French markets. British traders from South Carolina incited
the Indians against the French, and there developed French and
British Factions in the tribe. The Chickasaws finally were the occasion
for the most disastrous wars during the French control of Louisiana.
To hold them was an essential part of French policy, for they
controlled the upper termini of the routes from the north to Mobile.
They threatened constantly to give the British a hold on this region,
from whence they could move easily down the rivers to the French
settlements near the Gulf. Bienville realized that if the French
were to hold the southeastern tribes against the enticements of British
goods, French traders must be able to offer a supply as abundant
as the Carolinians and at reasonable prices. His urgings brought
some results. The Company of the Indies promised to send over a supply
of Indian trading goods, and to price them more cheaply in terms
of deerskins. But it coupled with this a requirement that Indians
must bring their pelts to Mobile and thus save all costs of transportation
into and out of the Indian country. The insistence of Bienville
upon giving liberal prices to the Indians, in order to drive
back the Carolina traders, was probably a factor that led to his recall
in 1724. For two years his friend and cousin, Boisbriant, remained
as acting governor and could do little to stem the Anglican advance.
Although he incited a few friendly Indians to pillage the invaders,
and even kill some of them, the Carolina advance continued.

The company was impressed with some ideas of the danger from Carolina,
and when Perier came over as governor in 1727, he was given special
instructions regarding the trade of the Mobile district. But the
Company of the Indies, holding to its program of economy, made no arrangements
to furnish better goods at attractive prices. To the directors
the problem appeared a matter of intrigue or diplomacy. Perier
attempted to understand the problem by sending agents to inquire among
the Indians. These agents were to ascertain the difference between
English and French goods, and the prices charged the Indians. They
were to conciliate the unfriendly savages, and, wherever possible, to
incite the natives to pillage the traders from Carolina. They were
to promise fine presents to the loyal red men, as well as an abundant
supply of trading goods at better prices than the opposition was offering.
Perier's intrigues gained some successes. The savages divided
into two factions; one was British and the other, French. So hostile
did these factions become that, among the Choctaws, civil war broke
out. Perier's efforts, however, were on the whole ineffective
in winning back the tribes of the Mobile district, and he decided
to send troops into the troubled country. He asked the government
for two hundred soldiers, who were to be specifically assigned to arrest
English traders and disloyal Indians. In spite of the company's
restrictions, he planned to build new posts in the territory. He asked
also for more supplies to trade at a low price for the Indians'
pelts. No help came from the crown, and Perier, in desperation,
gave a monopoly of the Indian trade in the district to D'Artaguette.
D'Artaguette went vigorously to work, and gave credit to many
hunters. But they brought back few pelts to pay their debts, and soon
French trade in the region was at an end. Perier finally, in one
last bid in 1730, cut the price of goods to an advance of 40 per cent
above the cost in France. The Indians were not impressed and held
to the Carolina traders, who swarmed over the country, almost to the
Mississippi. With the loss of the Mobile trade, which ended
all profits from Louisiana, the Natchez Indians revolted. They destroyed
a trading house and pillaged the goods, and harassed French shipping
on the Mississippi. The war to subdue them taxed the resources
of the colony and piled up enormous debts. In January, 1731, the company
asked the crown to relieve it of the government of the colony.
It stated that it had lost 20,000,000 livres in its operations, and apparently
blamed its poor success largely on the Indian trade. It offered
to surrender its right to exclusive trade, but asked an indemnity.
The King accepted the surrender and fixed the compensation of the
company at 1,450,000 livres. Thenceforth, the commerce of Louisiana
was free to all Frenchmen. Company rule in Louisiana left the
colony without fortifications, arms, munitions, or supplies. The difficulties
of trade had ruined many <voyageurs>, and numbers of them
had gone to live with the natives and rear half-blood families. Others
left the country, and there was no one familiar with the Indian trade.
If this trade should be resumed, the <habitants> who had come
to be farmers or artisans, and soldiers discharged from the army, must
be hardened to the severe life of <coureurs de bois>. This was a
slow and difficult course, and French trade suffered from the many mistakes
of the new group of traders. These men were without capital or
experience. Perier and Salmon, the intendant, wished either
to entrust the trade to an association of merchants or to have the crown
furnish goods on credit to individuals who would repay their debts
with pelts. Bienville, who returned to succeed Perier in 1732, objected
that the merchants would not accept the responsibility of managing
a trade in which they could see no hope of profits. He reported, too,
that among the <habitants> there were none of probity and ability
sufficient to justify entrusting them with the King's goods. He did
find some to trust, however, and he employed the King's soldiers
to trade. With no company to interfere, he kept close control over all
the traders. In order to compete with English traders, Bienville
radically changed the price schedule. The King should expect
no profit, and an advance of only 20 per cent above the cost in France,
which would cover the expense of transportation and handling, was all
he charged the traders.
They would not be pleased to have it published back home that they planned
a frolic in Paris or Hong Kong at the Treasury's expense.
They would be particularly displeased with the State Department if
it were the source of such reports. Few things are more perilous for
the State Department than a displeased congressman. The reason
for this bears explaining for those who may wonder why State spends
so much of its diplomatic energy on Congress when the Russians are
so available. First, the State Department is unique among government
agencies for its lack of public supporters. The farmers may be aroused
if Congress cuts into the Agriculture Department's budget. Businessmen
will rise if Congress attacks the Commerce Department.
Labor restrains undue brutality toward the Labor Department; the
Chamber of Commerce, assaults upon the Treasury. A kaleidoscope of
pressure groups make it unpleasant for the congressman who becomes ugly
toward the Department of Health, Education, and Welfare. The congressman's
patriotism is always involved when he turns upon the Defense
Department. Tampering with the Post Office may infuriate every
voter who can write. With all these agencies, the congressman
must constantly check the political wind and trim his sails accordingly.
No such political restraint subdues his blood when he gazes upon
the State Department in anger. In many sections he may even
reap applause from press and public for giving it a good lesson. After
all, the money dispensed by State goes not to the farmer, the laborer,
or the businessman, but to <foreigners>. Not only do these foreigners
not vote for American congressmen; they are also probably
ungrateful for Uncle's Sam's bounty. And are not the State Department
men who dispense this largesse merely crackpots and do-gooders
who have never met a payroll? Will not the righteous congressman
be cheered at the polls if he reminds them to get right with America
and if he saves the taxpayer some money by spoiling a few of their schemes?
The chances are excellent that he will. The result is
that the State Department's perpetual position before Congress is
the resigned pose of the whipping boy who expects to be kicked whenever
the master has had a dyspeptic outing with his wife. People in this
position do not offend the master by relating his peccadilloes to the
newspapers. State keeps the junketeering list a secret. The
Department expects and receives no thanks from Congress for its discretion.
Congress is a harsh master. State is expected to arrange the
touring Cicero's foreign itinerary; its embassies are expected
to supply him with reams of local money to pay his way; embassy workers
are expected to entertain him according to his whim, frequently with
their savings for the children's college tuition. But come
the next session of Congress, State can expect only that its summer
guest will bite its hand when it goes to the Capitol asking money
for diplomatic entertaining expenses abroad or for living expenses for
its diplomats. The congressman who, in Paris, may have stuffed his
wallet with enough franc notes to paper the roof of Notre-Dame will
systematically scream that a $200 increase in entertainment allowance
for a second secretary is tantamount to debauchery of the Treasury.

In the matter of money State's most unrelenting watchdog during

the Eisenhower years was Representative John J& Rooney, of
Brooklyn, who controlled the purse for diplomatic administrative expenses.
Diplomats stayed up nights thinking of ways to attain peaceful
coexistence, not with Nikita Khrushchev, but with John Rooney. Nothing
worked. In the most confidential whispers ambassadors told of
techniques they had tried to bring Rooney around- friendly persuasion,
groveling abasement, pressure subtly exerted through other powerful
congressmen, tales of heartbreak and penury among a threadbare diplomatic
corps. Rooney remained untouched. "The trouble" explained
Loy Henderson, then Deputy Undersecretary for Administration,
"is that when we get into an argument with him about this thing,
it always turns out that Rooney knows more about our budget than we
do". One year the Department collected a file of case histories
to document its argument that men in the field were paying the government's
entertainment bills out of personal income. News of the
project reached the press. Next day, reports went through the Department
that Rooney had been outraged by what he considered a patent attempt
to put public pressure on him for increased entertainment allowances
and had sworn an oath that, that year, expense allowances would not
rise a dollar. They didn't. The Department's constant
fight with the House for money is a polite minuet compared with its periodic
bloody engagements with the Senate. Armed with constitutional
power to negate the Executive's foreign policy, the Senate carries
a big stick and is easily provoked to use it on the State Department's
back, or on the head of the Secretary of State. With
its power to investigate, the Senate can paralyze the Secretary by
keeping him in a state of perpetual testimony before committees, as it
did with Dean Acheson. John Foster Dulles escaped by keeping his
personal show on the road and because Lyndon Johnson, who was then
operating the Senate, refused to let it become an Inquisition. During
Dulles's first two years in office, while Republicans ran the
Senate, the Department was at the mercy of men who had thirsted for
its
blood since 1945. An internal police operation managed by Scott
McLeod, a former F&B&I& man installed as security officer
upon congressional insistence, was part of the vengeance. So was
the attack upon Charles E& Bohlen when Eisenhower appointed him
Ambassador to Moscow. The principal mauler, however, was Senator
Joseph McCarthy. Where Acheson had fought a gallant losing battle
for the Department, Dulles fed the crocodile with his subordinates.
Fretting privately but eschewing public defense of his terrorized bureaucrats,
Dulles remained serene and detached while the hatchet men
had their way. In view of Eisenhower's reluctance to concede
that anything was amiss in the Terror, it is doubtful that heroic intervention
by Dulles could have produced anything but disaster for him
and the country's foreign policy. In any event, the example of Acheson's
trampling by the Senate did not encourage Dulles to provoke
it. He elected to "get along". During this dark chapter
in State Department history, men who had offered foreign-policy ideas
later proven wrong by events filled the tumbrels sent up to Capitol
Hill. Their old errors of judgment were equated, in the curious
logic of the time, with present treasonous intent. Their successors,
absorbing the lesson, made it a point to have few ideas. This,
in turn, brought a new fashion in senatorial criticism as the Democrats
took control. In the new style, the Department was berated as intellectually
barren and unable to produce the vital ideas needed to outwit
the Russians. For three or four years in the mid-1950's, this
complaint was heard rumbling up from the Senate floor whenever there
was a dull legislative afternoon. It became smart to say that the fault
was with Dulles because he would not countenance thinking done by
anyone but himself. An equally tenable thesis is that the dearth
of new thought was created by the Senate's own penchant for crucifying
anyone whose ideas seem unorthodox to the next generation. #@
GETTING ALONG WITH FOREIGNERS#

THERE ARE ninety-eight foreign

embassies and legations in Washington. They range from the Soviet
Embassy on Sixteenth Street, a gray shuttered pile suggesting a
funeral-accessories
display house, to what Congressman Rooney has called
"that monstrosity on Thirty-fourth Street", the modern cement-and-glass
chancery of the Belgians. Here is the world of the
chauffeured limousine and the gossip reporter, of caviar on stale crackers
and the warm martini, of the poseur, the spy, the party crasher,
and the patriot, of the rented tails, the double cross, and the tired
Lothario. Into its chanceries each day pour reports from ministries
around the earth and an endless stream of home-office instructions
on how to handle Uncle Sam in an infinite variety of contingencies.
Here are hatched plans for getting a share of the American bounty,
the secret of the anti-missile missile, or an invitation to dinner.
Out of it each week go hundreds of thousands of words purporting
to inform home ministries about what is really happening inside Washington.
Some, like the British and the French, maintain an elaborate
system of personal contacts and have experts constantly studying special
areas of the American scene. Other embassies cable home <The
New York Times> without changing a comma. Each has its peculiar
style. The Soviet Embassy is popularly regarded as Russian espionage
headquarters. When Ambassador Mikhail Menshikov took it over
in 1957 from Georgi Zaroubin, he made a determined effort to change
this idea. Menshikov hit Washington with a ~TV announcer's
grin and a hearty handclasp. To everyone's astonishment he seemed
no more like the run-of-the-mine Russian ambassador than George Babbitt
was like Fyodor Pavlovitch Karamazov. Where his predecessors
had glowered, Menshikov smiled. Where they had affected the
bleak social style of embalmers' assistants, Menshikov went abroad
gorgeous in white tie and tails. Overnight he became the most available
man in Washington. Speeches by the Soviet ambassador became the
vogue as he obliged rural Maryland Rotarians and National Press Club
alike. In Senator Joseph McCarthy's phrase, it was the most
unheard-of thing ever heard of. A newspaperman who met him at a reception
swore that he asked Menshikov: "What should we call you"?
And that Menshikov replied: "Just call me Mike".
"Smilin' Mike" was the sobriquet Washington gave him. His English
was usable and he used it fearlessly. Toasting in champagne one
night at the embassy, he hoisted his glass to a senator's wife and
gaily cried: "Up your bottom"! For a few giddy months that
coincided with one of Moscow's smiling moods, he was the sensation
of Washington. At the State Department, hard-bitten Russian experts
complained that the Capitol was out of its wits. Newspaper punditry
was inspired to remind everyone that Judas, too, had been able to
smile. The Menshikov interlude ended as larks with the Russians
usually end. Finding peaceful coexistence temporarily unsuitable
because of domestic politics, Moscow resumed scowling and "Smilin'
Mike" dropped quietly out of the press except for an occasional
story reporting that he had been stoned somewhere in the Middle West.

The most inscrutable embassies are the Arabs', and the most
inscrutable of the Arabs are the Saudi Arabians. When King Saud
visited Washington, the overwhelming question consuming the press
was the size of his family. Rumor had it that his children numbered
in the hundreds. The State Department was little help on this, or
on much else about Saudi Arabia. A reporter who consulted a Middle
East Information officer for routine vital statistics got nowhere until
the State Department man produced from his bottom desk drawer a
brochure published by the Arabian-American Oil Company. "This
is where I get my information from", he confided. "But bring it
right back. It's the only copy I've got". The size of
Saud's family was still being debated when the King appeared for his
first meeting with Eisenhower. When it ended, a dusky sheik in desert
robes flowed into Hagerty's office to report on the interview.
The massed reporters brushed aside the customary bromides about Saudi-American
friendship to bore in on the central question. How many
children did the King have? "Twenty-one", replied the sheik.

And how many of these were sons? "Twenty-five",

the sheik replied. "Do you mean to tell us", a reporter
asked, "that the King has twenty-one children, twenty-five of whom
are sons"? The sheik smiled and murmured: "That is
precisely correct". The Egyptians are noted for elusiveness
of language. When Dag Hammarskjold was negotiating the Middle East
peace after Israel's 1956 invasion of Egypt, he soon found himself
speaking the mysterious phrases of Cairo, a language as anarchic
as Casey Stengel's. The reports of President Nasser's pledges
which Hammarskjold was relaying from Cairo to Washington became
increasingly incomprehensible to other diplomats, including the Israeli
Foreign Minister, Mrs& Golda Meir. Finally he reported that
Nasser was ready to make a concrete commitment in return for Israeli
concessions.
The deep water is used by many people, but it is always clean, for the
washing is done outside. I know now why our Japanese friends were
surprised when they walked into our bathroom. Of course, most
toilets are Eastern style- at floor level- but even when they are
raised to chair height, they are actually outside toilets- inside.
A few newer homes have Western flush toilets, but even with running
water, they are usually Eastern style. The next day I visited
International Christian College which has developed since the war
under the leadership of people who were interned and who know Japan
well. They are trying to demonstrate some different ways of teaching
and learning. The library has open shelves even in the unbound periodical
stockroom. Spiritual life is cultivated, but students do not need
to be Christian. They have an enviable record of being able to place
in employment 100% of their graduates. In the afternoon Miss
Hosaka and her mother invited me to go with them and young Mrs&
Kodama to see the famous Spring dances of the Geisha dancers. Mrs&
Hosaka is one of the Japanese women one reads about- beautiful,
artistically talented, an artful manager of her big household-
(four boys and four girls), and yet looking like a pampered, gentle Japanese
woman. She was a real experience! The dances were as beautiful
as anything I have ever seen- they rival the New York Rockettes
for scenery and precision as well as imagination. Because
Don was leaving the next day, I spent the evening with him at Asia
Center. The following morning Mr& Morikawa called for me, and
we went to visit schools- kindergarten, middle-school, elementary
school, and high school- Mr& Yoshimoto's school. There
is much more freedom in the schools here than I expected- some think
too much. There is a great deal of thought being given to
the question of moral education in the schools. With the loss of the
Emperor diety in Japan, the people are left in confusion with no God
or moral teachings that have strength. The older parents continued
to teach their children traditional principles, but the younger people,
who have lost all faith and convictions, are now parents. There seems
to be no purpose in life that is sure- no certain guiding principles
to give stability. As a result, money is spent quickly and freely,
with no thought of its value. Gambling is everywhere, especially among
students. Parents indulge their children. The government
has recognized the dilemma and is beginning to devise some moral education
for the schools- but the teachers often have no firm conviction
and are confused. I was told that it is quite likely that Japanese
soldiers would not fight again- for why should they? It will be
painful, but interesting, to see what kind of a god these people will
create or what strong convictions they will develop. In the evening
the former Oregon State science teachers met for dinner at the
New Tokyo Restaurant where I had my first raw fish and found it good.
They suggested several new foods, and usually I found them good,
except the sweets, which I think I could learn to like. Six of the
science teachers were present, and we had great fun.
#KYOTO#

After
a day at Nikko, Mrs& Kodama put me on the train for Kyoto.
My instructions were that Mr& Nishimo would meet me at the hotel,
but instead he and three others were at the station with a very warm
welcome. My hotel rooms on the trip were arranged by Masu and the Japan
Travel Bureau and were more elegant than I would have chosen,
but it was fun for once to be elegant- I did explain to the students,
however, that this was not my usual style, for their salaries are very
small, and it seemed out of place for me to be housed so well. They
understood and teased me a bit about it. I think I would have
been much disappointed in Japan if I had not seen Kyoto, Nara,
and Hiroshima. Kyoto is the ancient capital of Japan and still its
cultural center. It, along with Nara, was untouched by the war-
and
is now a beautiful example of the loveliness of prewar Japan. Here
I was accompanied by Mrs& Okamoto (Fumio's mother), her son,
Mr& Washizu (a prospective student with whom I have been corresponding
for more than a year), and Mr& Nishima, one of the science
teachers. I arrived at 7:00 a&m& and by 9:00 a&m& I had
finished breakfast and was on my way to see what they had planned.
We walked miles and saw various shrines and gardens. We visited the
Okamoto home- where for the first time I saw the famous tea ceremony.
At 6:00 p&m& we went to the Kyoto Spring dances at the place
where these beautiful dances originated. They were even better than
those of Tokyo- more spectacular and more imaginative. After
a supper of <unagi> (rice with eel- eel which is raised in an
ice-cold pond at the foot of Mt& Fuji), I returned to my beautiful
room to sleep as hard as possible to be ready for another busy day.
We started at 9 a&m& to visit the Kyoto University where Mr&
Washizu is attending. I was amazed at the very poor hospital facilities
accompanying the medical school. They apologized for the condition,
including dirt and flies, and I was a little at a loss to know what
to say. There seemed to be no excuse? I don't have the answer
yet. We had tea at Mr& Washizu's home where I learned
that he, too, comes from a very wealthy family. His grandfather is
a Buddhist priest; and he, being the eldest, was supposed to be a priest,
but he chose to do differently, and one of his brothers is to become
the priest. This is a significant fact in Japan, for only a few
years ago he would have had no choice. In his big home live four families
and thirty people, so it needs to be big. Also, there are housed
here some priceless historical treasures from 400 to 600 years old-
paintings, lacquer, brocade, etc&. He had displayed more of them
than usual so that I could enjoy them. About 100 of the most important
items he had already given to the museum. The house itself is 400
years old with all the craftsmanship of older, less-hurried times.

#NARA,
OSAKA, AND HIROSHIMA#

Mr& Nishima went with me on the train

to Nara. We passed his house and school on the way. In Nara I
stayed at the hotel where the Prince and Princess had stayed on their
honeymoon. A new red carpet had been laid for their coming, but I
walked on it, too. Here Mr& Yoneda met us after a three-hour train
trip from the town where he teaches. Even though we had walked miles
in Kyoto that day, we started out again to see Nara at night.
In the evening both of the men went with me on the train 30 miles
to Osaka to put me on the train for Hiroshima. Again the plan was
for me to go alone, but they wouldn't let me. At Osaka, Mr& Yoneda
had to leave us to get the train to his home, but Mr& Nishima
and I had an hour and a half before train time to see Osaka at night.
It is the second largest city in Japan, with about four million people.
One spot in Osaka I shall always remember- the bridge where
we stood to watch the reflections of the elaborate neon signs in the
still waters of the river. In the midst of a great busy city, people
take time to enjoy the beauty of natural reflection of artificial light.

My train arrived in Hiroshima at the awful hour of 4:45

a&m&. I had planned to go to the hotel by taxi and sleep a little,
after which Mr& Uno would arrive and pilot me around. But there
he was at the train with an Oregon State pennant in his hand.

I know now why the students insisted that I go to Hiroshima even

when I told them I didn't want to. They knew that I was still grieving
over the tragic event, and they felt that if I could see the
recovery
and the spirit of the people, who hold no grudge, but who also
regret Pearl Harbor, I would be happier and would understand better
a new Japan. There were no words to say this but there was no need.

The teachers of Mr& Uno's school gave me a small gift

to thank me for coming. Hiroshima is a better city than it was before-
in the minds of the people I met was a strong determination for peace
and understanding. I was grateful for their insight into my need
for this experience. A better world may yet come out of Hiroshima.

#TOKYO#

On arriving in Tokyo later we were met by Masu who took

us immediately to her university, the Japanese Women's University.
This day was "Open House for Parents" day, and the girls were
busy preparing exhibits and arranging tea tables. Everything was in
an exciting turmoil- full of anticipation and fun. It was
thrilling to see the effect of an American-trained teacher on Japanese
students in a class in Home Planning. Our Masu is one of the very
few architects in Japan who is trying to plan homes around family
functions and women's needs. I am told the time will soon come when
women will find it necessary to do most of their own work, and even now
it is important to have conveniences for the use of servants. Many
of the features of the homes are the latest modern devices in American
homes, but an interesting blend of cultures finds us using Japanese
artfulness in our own Western architecture at the same time that the
Japanese are adopting Western utility patterns. At this Women's
University we find a monument to a courageous family who believed
that Japanese women also should be educated. Even today there are
some doubts about the value of education for Japanese women, but this
University continues to grow and to send its students out into the
community. Active alumnae have built a fine building on the campus
where members can come and stay for a few days or longer and where they
can have their social gatherings and professional meetings. As far
as I am concerned there is continuous piling up of evidence that the
creative fresh ideas which are needed in the world are going to be found
by educated women unafraid to break traditions. Masu is also
teaching in a municipally-sponsored school for Japanese widows in Tokyo.
Here the women learn to keep house as maids; they become skilled
in cooking and cleaning and in receiving guests. They learn how
to take care of children and sick members of the family. They have model
kitchens, a sick room with a model patient in bed, and a nursery with
a life-like doll. Although the training is only for one month, it
is intensive and thorough. Graduates of this maid's school are much
in demand and can always find work immediately. Occasionally they return
for additional training. Masu's home economics training comes
into play as she designs cupboards along modern functional lines for
the storage of cleaning materials. Masu also uses the training she got
in an American home where she learned to polish furniture, clean corners,
and work effectively in keeping a shiny house. Her education in
the United States, not just in a classroom, but also in an American
house with an American housekeeper, stands her in good stead.

#UNIVERSITY
OF TOKYO#

After a fine luncheon in the cafeteria, the kitchen

of which Masu had planned, Mr& Washizu and I left to meet representatives
of the ~USIS for a visit to the University of Tokyo.
Here again it was vacation time and there were many things I could
not see, but I was able to visit with a professor who is famous
in Japanese circles and be guided through the grounds by his assistant.
The achievement of the desegregation of certain lunch counters not only
by wise action by local community leaders but by voluntary action following
consultation between Attorney General Rogers and the heads
of certain national chain stores should, of course, be applauded. But
for it to be just to attain this same result by means of the force of
a boycott throughout the nation would require the verification of facts
contrary to those assumed in the foregoing case. The suppositions
in the previous illustration might be sufficiently altered by establishing
a connection between general company practice and local practice
in the South, and by establishing such direct connection between the
practice and the economic well-being of stores located in New York
and general company policy. Then the boycott would not be secondary,
but a primary one. It would be directed against the actual location of
the unjust policy which, for love's sake and for the sake of justice,
must be removed, and, indivisible from this, to the economic injury
of the people directly and objectively a part of this policy. Perhaps
this would be sufficient to justify an economic boycott of an entire
national chain in order, by threatening potential injury to its entire
economy, to effect an alteration of the policy of its local stores
in the matter of segregation. Such a general boycott might still be a
blunt or indiscriminating instrument, and therefore of questionable
justification.
Action located where the evil is concentrated will prove
most decisive and is most clearly legitimate. Moreover, prudence alone
would indicate that, unless the local customs are already ready to
fall when pushed, the results of direct economic action everywhere upon
national chain stores will likely be simply to give undue advantage
to local and state stores which conform to these customs, leading to
greater decentralization and local autonomy within the company, or even
(as the final self-defeat of an unjust application of economic pressure
to correct injustice) to its going out of business in certain sections
of the country (as, for that matter, the Quakers, who once had many
meetings in the pre-Civil War South, largely went out of business
in that part of the country over the slavery issue, never to recover
a large number of southern adherents). In any case, anyone who
fails to make significant distinction between primary and secondary
applications of economic pressure would in principle already have justified
that use of economic boycott as a means which broke out a few years
ago or was skillfully organized by White Citizens' Councils
in the entire state of Mississippi against every local Philco dealer
in that state, in protest against a Philco-sponsored program over a
national ~TV network on which was presented a drama showing, it seemed,
a "high yellow gal" smooching with a white man. It is true,
of course, that the end or objective of this action was different. But
since this is a world in which people disagree about ends and goals
and concerning justice and injustice, and since, in a situation where
direct action and economic pressure are called for, the justice of the
matter has either not been clearly defined by law or the law is not
effectively present, there has to be a <morality of means> applied in
every case in which people take it upon themselves to use economic pressures
or other forms of force. the need that we not give unqualified
approval to any but a limited use of economic pressure directed
against the actual doers of injustice is clear also in light of the
fact that White Citizens' Councils seem resolved to maintain segregation
mainly by the use of these same means and not ordinarily by physical
violence. An unlimited use of economic pressures for diametrically
opposite causes could devastate the pre-conditions of any fellow
humanity as surely as this would be destroyed by the use of more obviously
brutal means. The end or aim of the action, of course, is also
important, especially where it is not alone a matter of changing community
customs but of the use of deadly economic power to intimidate a person
from stepping forward to claim his legal rights, e&g&, against
Negroes who register to vote in Fayette County, Tennessee, at the
present moment. Here the recourse is in steps to give economic sustenance
to those being despoiled, and to legal remedies. This, however,
is sufficient to show that more or less non-violent resistance and
economic conflict (if both sides are strong enough) can be war of all
against all no less than if other means are used. It is also sufficient
to show the Christian and any other champion of justice that he needs
to make sure not only that his cause is just but also that his <conduct>
is just, i&e&, that, if economic pressure has to be resorted
to, this be applied directly against those persons directly in the
way of some salutary change in business or institutional practices, while,
if injury fall upon others, it fall upon them indirectly and secondarily
(however inevitably) and not by deliberate intent and direct
action against them. It is clear that non-violent resistance is
a mode of action in need of justification and limitation in Christian
morality, like any other form of resistance. The <language> used
itself often makes very clear that this is only another form of struggle
for victory (perhaps to be chosen above all others). One of the sit-in
leaders has said: "Nobody from the top of Heaven to the bottom
of Hell can stop the march to freedom. Everybody in the world today
might as well make up their minds to march with freedom or freedom
is going to march over them". The present writer certainly agrees
with that statement, and would also affirm this- in the order of justice.
However, it is also a Christian insight to know that unless charity
interpenetrates justice it is not likely to be freedom that marches
forward. And when charity interpenetrates man's struggle for justice
and freedom it does not simply surround this with a sentimental
good will. It also definitely fashions conduct in the way explained
above, and this means far more than in the choice of non-violent
means.
R& B& Gregg has written that "non-violence and good will of
the victim act like the lack of physical opposition by the user of physical
jiu-jitsu, to cause the attacker to lose his moral balance. He
suddenly and unexpectedly loses the moral support which the usual violent
resistance of most victims would render him"; and again, that
"the object of non-violent resistance is partly analogous to this object
of war- namely, to demoralize the opponent, to break his will,
to destroy his confidence, enthusiasm, and hope. In another respect
it is dissimilar, for non-violent resistance demoralizes the opponent
only to re-establish in him a new morale that is firmer because it is
based on sounder values". A trial of strength, however, is made
quite inevitable by virtue of the fact that anyone engaging in non-violent
resistance will be convinced that his action is based on sounder
values than those of his opponent; and in warfare with any means,
men commonly disagree over the justice of the cause. This makes necessary
a morality of means, and principles governing the <conduct> of
resistance whenever this is thought to be justified. The question,
then, is whether sufficient discrimination in the use of even non-violent
means of coercion is to be found in the fact that such conduct demoralizes
and overcomes the opponent while re-moralizing and re-establishing
him. Here it is relevant to remember that men commonly regard some
causes as more important than their lives; and to them it will seem
insignificant that it is proposed to defeat such causes non-violently.
A technique by which it is proposed to enter with compulsion into
the very heart of a man and determine his values may often in fact seem
the more unlimited aggression. Among Christian groups, the
Mennonites have commonly been aware more than others of the fact that
the nature of divine charity raises decisively the question of the
Christian use of all forms of pressure. Since the will and word of God
are for them concentrated in Christlike love, it seems clear to them
that non-violent resistance is quite another thing. "The primary
objective of non-violence", writes the outstanding Mennonite ethicist,
"is not peace, or obedience to the divine will, but rather certain
desired social changes, for personal, or class, or national advantage".
Without agreeing with every phrase in this statement, we must
certainly assert the great difference between Christian love and any
form of resistance, and then go on beyond the Mennonite position and
affirm that Christian love-in-action must first justify and then determine
the moral principles limiting resistance. These principles we
have now set forth. <Economy> in the use of power needs not only to
be asserted, but clearly specified; and when this is done it will
be found that the principles governing Christian resistance cut across
the distinction between violent and non-violent means, and apply to
both alike, justifying either on occasion and always limiting either action.
Economy in the use of power means more than inflicting a
<barely
intolerable> pressure upon an opponent and upon the injustice opposed.
That would amount to calculating the means and justifying them wholly
in terms of their effectiveness in reaching desired goals. There
must also be additional and more fundamental discrimination in the use
of means of resistance, violent or non-violent. The justification
in Christian conscience of the use of any mode of resistance also lays
down its limitation- in the distinction between the persons against
whom pressure is primarily directed, those upon whom it may be permitted
also to fall, and those who may never be directly repressed for the
sake even of achieving some great good. In these terms, the "economic
withdrawal" of the Negroes of Nashville, Tennessee, from trading
in the center city, for example, was clearly justified, since these
distinctions do not require that only people subjectively guilty be
singled out. We may now take up for consideration a hard case
which seems to require either no action employing economic pressure
or else action that would seem to violate the principles set forth above.
There may be instances in which, if economic pressure is to be undertaken
at all, this would have to be applied without discrimination
against a whole people. An excellent article was published recently in
the journal of the Church Peace Union by a South African journalist
on the inhuman economic conditions of the blacks in South Africa,
amounting to virtual slavery, and the economic <complicity> of both
the government and the people of the United States in these conditions.
"**h Billions of American dollars, not only from capital investors
but also from the pockets of U& S& taxpayers", this author
states, "are being poured into South Africa to support a system
dedicated to the oppression, the persecution, and the almost diabolical
exploitation of 12 million people the color of whose skins happens
not to be white". Both the conditions and the complicity are documented
in considerable detail. This leads to the conclusion that "the
fact is inescapable that America does have a say in whether or not
<apartheid> shall continue". Our leadership in a wide economic
boycott of South Africa would be not only in accord, it seems, with
the moral conscience of America, not to be denied because we also as
a people have widespread injustice in the relations of the races in our
own country, but also in accord with our law, U&S& Code Title
19, Section 1307, which forbids the importation of goods made by forced
or convict labor. Not only should this provision be enforced but
other economic and political actions might be taken which, this author
believes, "must surely be supported by every American who values the
freedom that has been won for him and whose conscience is not so dominated
by the lines in his account books that he can willingly and knowingly
contribute to the enslavement of another nation".

NORTHERN liberals are the chief supporters of civil rights

and of integration. They have also led the nation in the direction
of a welfare state. And both in their objectives of non-discrimination
and of social progress they have had ranged against them the Southerners
who are called Bourbons. The name presumably derives from the
French royal house which never learned and never forgot; since Bourbon
whiskey, though of Kentucky origin, is at least as much favored
by liberals in the North as by conservatives in the South. The
nature of the opposition between liberals and Bourbons is too little
understood in the North. The race problem has tended to obscure other,
less emotional, issues which may fundamentally be even more divisive.
It is these other differences between North and South- other,
that is, than those which concern discrimination or social welfare-
which I chiefly discuss herein. I write about Northern liberals
from considerable personal experience. A Southerner married to
a New Englander, I have lived for many years in a Connecticut commuting
town with a high percentage of artists, writers, publicity men,
and business executives of egghead tastes. Most of them are Democrats
and nearly all consider themselves, and are viewed as, liberals. This
is puzzling to an outsider conscious of the classic tradition of
liberalism, because it is clear that these Democrats who are left-of-center
are at opposite poles from the liberal Jefferson, who held that
the best government was the least government. Yet paradoxically my
liberal
friends continue to view Jefferson as one of their patron saints.
When I question them as to what they mean by concepts like liberty and
democracy, I find that they fall into two categories: the simpler
ones who have simply accepted the shibboleths of their faith without
analysis; and the intelligent, cynical ones who scornfully reply that
these things don't count any more in the world of to-day. I am naive,
they say, to make use of such words. I take this to mean
that the intelligent- and therefore necessarily cynical?- liberal
considers that the need for a national economy with controls that will
assure his conception of social justice is so great that individual
and local liberties as well as democratic processes may have to yield
before it. This seems like an attitude favoring a sort of totalitarian
bureaucracy which, under a President of the same stamp, would try
to coerce an uncooperative Congress or Supreme Court. As for states'
rights, they have never counted in the thinking of my liberal friends
except as irritations of a minor and immoral nature which exist
now only as anachronisms. The American liberal may, in the world
of to-day, have a strong case; but he presents it publicly so enmeshed
in hypocrisy that it is not an honest one. Why, in the first place,
call himself a liberal if he is against <laissez-faire> and favors
an authoritarian central government with womb-to-tomb controls over
everybody? If he attaches little importance to personal liberty,
why not make this known to the world? And if he is so scornful of
the rights of states, why not advocate a different sort of constitution
that he could more sincerely support? I am concerned here,
however, with the Northern liberal's attitude toward the South. It
appears to be one of intense dislike, which he makes little effort
to conceal even in the presence of Southern friends. His assumption
seems to be that any such friends, being tolerable humans, must be more
liberal than most Southerners and therefore at least partly in sympathy
with his views. <Time's> editor, Thomas Griffith, in his book,
<The Waist-High Culture>, wrote: "**h most of what was
different about it (the Deep South) I found myself unsympathetic to
**h". This, for the liberals I know, would be an understatement.
Theirs is no mere lack of sympathy, but something closer to the passionate
hatred that was directed against Fascism. I do not think
that my experience would be typical for Southerners living in the
North. In business circles, usually conservative, this sort of atmosphere
would hardly be found. But in our case- and neither my wife nor
I have extreme views on integration, nor are we given to emotional
outbursts- the situation has ruined one or two valued friendships and
come close to wrecking several more. In fact it has caused us to give
serious thought to moving our residence south, because it is not easy
for the most objective Southerner to sit calmly by when his host
is telling a roomful of people that the only way to deal with Southerners
who oppose integration is to send in troops and shoot the bastards
down. Accounts have been published of Northern liberals in
the South up against segregationist prejudice, especially in state-supported
universities where pressure may be strong to uphold the majority
view. But these accounts do not show that Northerners have been subjected
to embarrassment or provocation by Yankee-hatred displayed in
social gatherings. From my wife's experience and other sources, this
seems to be rarely encountered in educated circles. The strong feeling
is certainly there; but there is a leavening of liberalism among
college graduates throughout the South, especially among those who
studied in the North. And social relations arising out of business
ties impose courtesy, if not sympathy, toward resident and visiting Northerners.
Also, among the latter a large percentage soon acquire the
prevalent Southern attitude on most social problems. There
are of course many Souths; but for this discussion the most important
division is between those who have been reconstructed and those who
haven't. My definition of this much abused adjective is that a reconstructed
rebel is one who is glad that the North won the War. Nobody
knows how many Southerners there are in this category. I suspect
that there are far more unreconstructed ones than the North likes to
believe. I never heard of a poll being taken on the question. No doubt
such a thing would be considered unpatriotic. Prior to 1954 I imagine
that a majority of Southerners would have voted against the Confederacy.
Since the Supreme Court's decision of that year this is
more doubtful; and if a poll had been taken immediately following
the dispatch of troops to Little Rock I believe the majority would
have been for the Old South. Belief in the traditional way of
life persists much more in the older states than in the new ones. Probably
a larger percentage of Virginians and South Carolinians remain
unreconstructed than elsewhere, with Georgia, North Carolina, and
Alabama following along after them. Old attitudes are held more tenaciously
in the Tidewater than the Piedmont; so that a line running
down the length of the South marking the upper limits of tidewater
would roughly divide the Old South from the new, but with, of course,
important minority enclaves. The long-settled areas of states
like Virginia and South Carolina developed the ante-bellum culture
to its richest flowering, and there the memory is more precious, and
the consciousness of loss the greater. Also, we should not even to-day
discount the fact that a region such as the coastal lowlands centering
on Charleston had closer ties with England and the West Indies
than with the North even after independence. The social and psychological
consequences of this continue to affect the area. In certain
respects defeat increased the persistent Anglophilia of the Old South.
Poor where they had once been rich, humbled where they had been
arrogant, having no longer any hope of sharing in the leadership of the
nation, the rebels who would not surrender in spirit drew comfort from
the sympathy they felt extended to them by the mother country. And
no doubt many people in states like the Carolinas and Georgia, which
were among the most Tory in sentiment in the eighteenth century, bitterly
regretted the revolt against the Crown. Among Bourbons
the racial issue may have less to do with their remaining unreconstructed
than other factors. All Southerners agree that slavery had to
go; but many historians maintain that except for Northern meddling
it would have ended in states like Virginia years before it did. Southern
resentment has been over the method of its ending, the invasion,
and Reconstruction; their fears now are of miscegenation and Negro
political control in many counties. But apart from racial problems,
the old unreconstructed South- to use the moderate words favored by
Mr& Thomas Griffith- finds itself unsympathetic to most of what
is different about the civilization of the North. And this, in effect,
means most of modern America. It is hard to see how the
situation could be otherwise. And therein, I feel, many Northerners
delude themselves about the South. For one thing, this is not a subject
often discussed or analyzed. There seems to be almost a conspiracy
of silence veiling it. I suppose the reason is a kind of wishful
thinking: don't talk about the final stages of Reconstruction and
they will take care of themselves. Or else the North really believes
that all Southerners except a few quaint old characters have come
around to realizing the errors of their past, and are now at heart sharers
of the American Dream, like everybody else. If the circumstances
are faced frankly it is not reasonable to expect this to be
true. The situation of the South since 1865 has been unique in the western
world. Regardless of rights and wrongs, a population and an area
appropriate to a pre-World-War-/1, great power have been, following
conquest,
ruled against their will by a neighboring people, and have had
imposed upon them social and economic controls they dislike. And the
great majority of these people are of Anglo-Saxon or Celtic descent.
This is the only case in modern history of a people of Britannic
origin submitting without continued struggle to what they view as foreign
domination. The fact is due mainly to international wars, both hot
and cold. In every war of the United States since the Civil War
the South was more belligerent than the rest of the country. So instead
of being tests of the South's loyalty, the Spanish War, the
two World Wars, and the Korean War all served to overcome old grievances
and cement reunion. And there is no section of the nation more
ardent than the South in the cold war against Communism. Had the
situation been reversed, had, for instance, England been the enemy in
1898 because of issues of concern chiefly to New England, there is
little doubt that large numbers of Southerners would have happily put
on their old Confederate uniforms to fight as allies of Britain. It
is extraordinary that a people as proud and warlike as Southerners
should have been as docile as they have. The North should thank its
stars that such has been the case; but at the same time it should not
draw false inferences therefrom. The two main charges levelled
against the Bourbons by liberals is that they are racists and social
reactionaries. There is much truth in both these charges, and not
many Bourbons deny them. Whatever their faults, they are not hypocrites.
Most of them sincerely believe that the Anglo-Saxon is the best
race in the world and that it should remain pure. Many Northeners
believe this, too, but few of them will say so publicly. The Bourbon
economic philosophy, moreover, is not very different from that of Northern
conservatives. But those among the Bourbons who remain unreconstructed
go much further than this. They believe that if the South
had been let alone it would have produced a civilization superior to that
of modern America. As it is, they consider that the North is now
reaping the fruits of excess egalitarianism, that in spite of its high
standard of living the "American way" has been proved inferior
to the English and Scandinavian ways, although they disapprove of the
socialistic features of the latter. The South's antipathy
to Northern civilization includes such charges as poor manners, harsh
accents, lack of appreciation of the arts of living like gastronomy
and the use of leisure. Their own easier, slower tempo is especially
dear to Southerners; and I have heard many say that they are content
to earn a half or a third as much as they could up North because
they so much prefer the quieter habits of their home town.

In the past, the duties of the state, as Sir Henry Maine noted
long ago, were only two in number: internal order and external security.
By prevailing over other claimants for the loyalties of men,
the nation-state maintained an adequate measure of certainty and order
within its territorial borders. Outside those limits it asserted, as
against other states, a position of sovereign equality, and, as against
the "inferior" peoples of the non-Western world, a position of
dominance. It became the sole "subject" of "international law"
(a term which, it is pertinent to remember, was coined by Bentham),
a body of legal principle which by and large was made up of what Western
nations could do in the world arena. (That corpus of law was a
reflection of the power system in existence during the eighteenth and
nineteenth centuries. Speaking generally, it furthered- and still
tends to further- the interests of the Western powers. The enormous
changes in world politics have, however, thrown it into confusion, so
much so that it is safe to say that all international law is now in
need of reexamination and clarification in light of the social conditions
of the present era.) Beyond the two basic tasks mentioned
above, no attention was paid by statesman or scholar to an idea of state
responsibility, either internally or externally. This was particularly
true in the world arena, which was an anarchical battleground characterized
by strife and avaricious competition for colonial empires.
That any sort of duty was owed by his nation to other nations would have
astonished a nineteenth-century statesman. His duty was to his sovereign
and to his nation, and an extension to peoples beyond the territorial
boundaries was not to be contemplated. Thus, to cite but one
example, the <Pax Britannica> of the nineteenth century, whether with
the British navy ruling the seas or with the City of London ruling
world finance, was strictly national in motivation, however much other
nations (e&g&, the United States) may have incidentally benefited.
At the same time, all suggestions that some sort of societal
responsibility existed for the welfare of the people within the territorial
state was strongly resisted. Social Darwinism was able to stave
off the incipient socialist movement until well into the present century.

However, in recent decades, for what doubtless are multiple

reasons, an unannounced but nonetheless readily observable shift has
occurred in both facets of national activity. A concept of responsibility
is in process of articulation and establishment. Already firmly
implanted internally, it is a growing factor in external matters.
##

A little more than twenty years ago the American people turned
an important corner. In what has aptly been called a "constitutional
revolution", the basic nature of government was transformed from
one essentially negative in nature (the "night-watchman state") to
one with affirmative duties to perform. The "positive state" came
into existence. For lawyers, reflecting perhaps their parochial preferences,
there has been a special fascination since then in the role
played by the Supreme Court in that transformation- the manner in
which its decisions altered in "the switch in time that saved nine",
President Roosevelt's ill-starred but in effect victorious "Court-packing
plan", the imprimatur of judicial approval that was
finally placed upon social legislation. Of greater importance, however,
is the content of those programs, which have had and are having enormous
consequences for the American people. Labor relations have been
transformed, income security has become a standardized feature of political
platforms, and all the many facets of the American version of
the welfare state have become part of the conventional wisdom. A national
consensus of near unanimity exists that these governmental efforts
are desirable as well as necessary. Ratified in the Republican Party
victory in 1952, the Positive State is now evidenced by political
campaigns being waged not on <whether> but on <how much> social
legislation there should be. The general acceptance of the idea
of governmental (i&e&, societal) responsibility for the economic
well-being of the American people is surely one of the two most significant
watersheds in American constitutional history. The other, of
course, was the Civil War, the conflict which a century ago insured
national unity over fragmentation. A third, one of at least equal and
perhaps even greater importance, is now being traversed: American
immersion and involvement in world affairs. Internal national
responsibility, now a truism, need not be documented. Nevertheless,
it may be helpful to cite one example- that of employment- for, as
will be shown below, it cuts across both facets of the new concept. Thirty
years ago, while the nation was wallowing in economic depression,
the prevailing philosophy of government was to stand aside and allow
"natural forces" to operate and cure the distress. That guiding
principle of the Hoover Administration fell to the siege guns of the
New Deal; less than a score of years later Congress enacted the
Employment Act of 1946, by which the national government assumed the
responsibility of taking action to insure conditions of maximum employment.
Hands-off the economy was replaced by conscious guidance through
planning- the economic side of the constitutional revolution. In
1961 the first important legislative victory of the Kennedy Administration
came when the principle of <national> responsibility for <local>
economic distress won out over a "state's-responsibility"
proposal- provision was made for payment for unemployment relief
by nation-wide taxation rather than by a levy only on those states afflicted
with manpower surplus. The American people have indeed come
a long way in the brief interval between 1930 and 1961. Internal
national responsibility is a societal response to the impact of the
Industrial Revolution. Reduced to its simplest terms, it is an assumption
of a collective duty to compensate for the inability of individuals
to cope with the rigors of the era. National responsibility for
individual welfare is a concept not limited to the United States or
even to the Western nations. A measure of its widespread acceptance
may be derived from a statement of the International Congress of Jurists
in 1959. Meeting in New Delhi under the auspices of the International
Commission of Jurists, a body of lawyers from the free world,
the Congress redefined and expanded the traditional Rule of Law
to include affirmative governmental duties. It is noteworthy that
the majority of the delegates to the Congress were from the less developed,
former colonial nations. The Rule of Law, historically a principle
according everyone his "day in court" before an impartial tribunal,
was broadened substantively by making it a responsibility of
government to promote individual welfare. Recognizing that the Rule
of Law is "a dynamic concept **h which should be employed not only
to safeguard the civil and political rights of the individual in a free
society", the Congress asserted that it also included the responsibility
"to establish social, economic, educational and cultural conditions
under which his legitimate aspirations and dignity may be realized".
The idea of national responsibility thus has become a common
feature of the nations of the non-Soviet world. For better or for worse,
we all now live in welfare states, the organizing principle of which
is collective responsibility for individual well-being. Whether
a concept analogous to the principle of internal responsibility
operates in a nation's external relations is less obvious and more
difficult to establish. The hypothesis ventured here is that it does,
and that evidence is accumulating validating that proposition. The content
is not the same, however: rather than individual security, it
is the security and continuing existence of an "ideological group"-
those in the "free world"- that is basic. External national
responsibility involves a burgeoning requirement that the leaders of
the Western nations so guide their decisions as to further the viability
of other friendly nations. If internal responsibility suggests acceptance
of the socialist ideal of equality, then external responsibility
implies adherence to principles of ideological supranationalism.

Reference to two other concepts- nationalism and sovereignty-

may help to reveal the contours of the new principle. In its beginnings
the nation-state had to struggle to assert itself- internally,
against feudal groups, and externally, against the power and influence
of such other claimants for loyalty as the Church. The breakup of
the Holy Roman Empire and the downfall of feudalism led, not more
than two centuries ago, to the surge of nationalism. (Since the time-span
of the nation-state coincides roughly with the separate existence
of the United States as an independent entity, it is perhaps natural
for Americans to think of the nation as representative of the highest
form of order, something permanent and unchanging.) The concept of
nationalism is the political principle that epitomizes and glorifies
the territorial state as the characteristic type of socal structure. But
it is more than that. For it includes the emotional ties that bind
men to their homeland and the complex motivations that hold a large
group of people together as a unit. Today, as new nations rise from
the former colonial empires, nationalism is one of the hurricane forces
loose in the world. Almost febrile in intensity, the principle has
become worldwide in application- unfortunately at the very time that
nationalist fervors can wreak greatest harm. Historically, however,
the concept is one that has been of marked benefit to the people of the
Western civilizational group. By subduing disparate lesser groups
the nation has, to some degree at least, broadened the capacity for individual
liberty. Within their confines, moreover, technological and
industrial growth has proceeded at an accelerated pace, thus increasing
the cornucopia from which material wants can be satisfied. While the
pattern is uneven, some having gained more than others, nationalism
has in fact served the Western peoples well. (Whether historical nationalism
helped the peoples of the remainder of the world, and whether
today's nationalism in the former colonial areas has equally beneficial
aspects, are other questions.) It is one of the ironic quirks
of history that the viability and usefulness of nationalism and the
territorial state are rapidly dissipating at precisely the time that
the nation-state attained its highest number (approximately 100). But
it is more than irony: one of the main reasons why nationalism is
no longer a tenable concept is <because> it has spread throughout the
planet. In other words, nationalism worked well enough when it had
limited application, both as to geography and as to population; it
becomes a perilous anachronism when adopted on a world-wide basis.

Complementing the political principle of nationalism is the legal

principle of sovereignty. The former receives its legitimacy from the
latter. Operating side by side, together they helped shore up the nation-state.
While sovereignty has roots in antiquity, in its present
usage it is essentially modern. Jean Bodin, writing in the sixteenth
century, may have been the seminal thinker, but it was the vastly influential
John Austin who set out the main lines of the concept as now
understood. Austin's nineteenth-century view of law and sovereignty
still dominates much of today's legal and political thinking. To
him, law is the command of the sovereign (the English monarch) who
personifies the power of the nation, while sovereignty is the power to
make law- i&e&, to prevail over internal groups and to be free
from the commands of other sovereigns in other nations. These fundamental
ideas- the indivisibility of sovereignty and its dual (internal-external)
aspects- still remain the core of that concept of ultimate
political power. The nation-state, then, exemplifies the principle
of nationalism and exercises sovereignty: supreme power over
domestic affairs and independence from outside control. In fact, however,
both principles have always been nebulous and loosely defined. High-level
abstractions are always difficult to pin down with precision.
That is particularly true of sovereignty when it is applied to democratic
societies, in which "popular" sovereignty is said to exist,
and in federal nations, in which the jobs of government are split. Nevertheless,
nationalism and sovereignty are reputed, in the accepted
wisdom, to describe the modern world. Is there a different reality behind
the facade? Does the surface hide a quite different picture?

The short answer to those questions is "yes". Both concepts

are undergoing alteration; to some degree they are being supplanted
by a concept of national responsibility. As evidence to support
that view, consider the following illustrative instances.
Can thermonuclear war be set off by accident? What steps have been
taken to guard against the one sort of mishap that could trigger the
destruction of continents? Are we as safe as we should be from such
a disaster? Is anything being done to increase our margin of safety?
Will the danger increase or decrease? I have just asked
these questions in the Pentagon, in the White House, in offices of
key scientists across the country and aboard the submarines that prowl
for months underwater, with neat rows of green launch tubes which contain
Polaris missiles and which are affectionately known as "Sherwood
Forest". I asked the same questions inside the launch-control
rooms of an Atlas missile base in Wyoming, where officers who wear
sidearms are manning the "commit buttons" that could start a war-
accidentally or by design- and in the command centers where other
pistol-packing men could give orders to push such buttons. To
the men in the instrument-jammed bomber cockpits, submarine compartments
and the antiseptic, windowless rooms that would be the foxholes of
tomorrow's impersonal intercontinental wars, the questions seem farfetched.
There is unceasing pressure, but its sources are immediate.
"Readiness exercises" are almost continuous. Each could be the real
thing. In the command centers there are special clocks ready
to tick off the minutes elapsed since "~E hour". "~E"
stands for "execution"- the moment a "go order" would unleash
an American nuclear strike. There is little time for the men in the
command centers to reflect about the implications of these clocks.
They are preoccupied riding herd on control panels, switches, flashing
colored lights on pale green or gray consoles that look like business
machines. They know little about their machinery beyond mechanical
details. Accidental war is so sensitive a subject that most of the people
who could become directly involved in one are told just enough so
they can perform their portions of incredibly complex tasks. Among
the policy makers, generals, physicists, psychologists and others
charged with controlling the actions of the button pushers and their
"hardware", the answers to my questions varied partly according to
a man's flair for what the professionals in this field call "scenarios".
As an Air Force psychiatrist put it: "You can't have
dry runs on this one". The experts are thus forced to hypothesize
sequences of events that have never occurred, probably never will-
but possibly might. Only one rule prevailed in my conversations with
these men: The more highly placed they are- that is, the more they
know- the more concerned they have become. Already accidental
war is a silent guest at the discussions within the Kennedy Administration
about the urgency of disarmament and nearly all other questions
of national security. Only recently new "holes" were
discovered in our safety measures, and a search is now on for more. Work
is under way to see whether new restraining devices should be installed
on all nuclear weapons. Meanwhile, the experts speak of
wars triggered by "false pre-emption", "escalation", "unauthorized
behavior" and other terms that will be discussed in this report.
They inhabit a secret world centered on "go codes" and "gold
phones". Their conversations were, almost invariably, accompanied
by the same gestures- arms and pointed forefingers darting toward
each other in arclike semicircular motions. One arm represented our bombers
and missiles, the other arm "theirs". Yet implicit in each
movement was the death of millions, perhaps hundreds of millions, perhaps
you and me- and the experts. These men are not callous.
It is their job to think about the unthinkable. Unanimously they believe
that the world would become a safer place if more of us- and more
Russians and Communist Chinese, too- thought about accidental
war. The first systematic thinking about this Pandora's box
within Pandora's boxes was done four years ago by Fred Ikle, a
frail, meek-mannered Swiss-born sociologist. He was, and is, with the
~RAND Corporation, a nonprofit pool of thinkers financed by the
U& S& Air Force. His investigations made him the Paul Revere
of accidental war, and safety procedures were enormously increased.

In recent weeks, as a result of a sweeping defense policy reappraisal

by the Kennedy Administration, basic United States strategy
has been modified- and large new sums allocated- to meet the accidental-war
danger and to reduce it as quickly as possible. The
chain starts at ~BMEWS (Ballistic Missile Early Warning
System) in Thule, Greenland. Its radar screens would register Soviet
missiles shortly after they are launched against the United States.
~BMEWS intelligence is simultaneously flashed to ~NORAD
(North American Air Defense Command) in Colorado Springs,
Colorado, for interpretation; to the ~SAC command and control
post, forty-five feet below the ground at Offutt Air Force Base, near
Omaha, Nebraska; to the Joint War Room of the Joint Chiefs
of Staff in the Pentagon and to the President. Telephones,
Teletypes, several kinds of radio systems and, in some cases, television,
link all vital points. Alternate locations exist for all key command
centers. For last-ditch emergencies ~SAC has alternate command
posts on ~KC-135 jet tankers. Multiple circuits, routings and
frequencies make the chain as unbreakable as possible. The
same principle of "redundancy" applies to all communications on these
special networks. And no messages can be transmitted on these circuits
until senders and receivers authenticate in advance, by special
codes,
that the messages actually come from their purported sources. Additional
codes can be used to challenge and counterchallenge the authentications.

Only the President is permitted to authorize the

use of nuclear weapons. That's the law. But what if somebody decides
to break it? The President cannot personally remove the safety
devices from every nuclear trigger. He makes the momentous decision.
Hundreds of men are required to pass the word to the button pushers
and to push the buttons. What if one or more of them turn irrational
or suddenly, coolly, decide to clobber the Russians? What if the President
himself, in the language of the military, "goes ape"?
Or singlehandedly decided to reverse national policy and hit the Soviets
without provocation? Nobody can be absolutely certain of
the answers. However, the system is designed, ingeniously and hopefully,
so that no one man could initiate a thermonuclear war. Even
the President cannot pick up his telephone and give a "go" order.
Even he does not know the one signal for a nuclear strike- the
"go code". In an emergency he would receive available intelligence
on the "gold-phone circuit". A system of "gold"- actually
yellow- phones connects him with the offices and action stations of
the Secretary of Defense, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the ~SAC
commander and other key men. All can be connected with the gold circuit
from their homes. All could help the President make his decision.
The talk would not be in code, but neither would it ramble. Vital
questions would be quickly answered according to a preprepared agenda.
Officers who participate in the continual practice drills assured
me that the President's decision could be made and announced on the
gold circuit within minutes after the first flash from ~BMEWS.

If communications work, his decision would be instantly known

in all command posts that would originate the actual go order. For
these centers, too, are on the gold circuit. They include the Navy's
Atlantic Command at Norfolk, Virginia, which is in contact with
the Polaris subs; ~NATO headquarters in Europe; Air Force
forward headquarters in Europe and in the Pacific, which control
tactical fighters on ships and land bases; and ~SAC, which controls
long-range bombers and Atlas missiles. Let us look in on
one of these nerve centers- ~SAC at Omaha- and see what must
still happen before a wing of ~B-52 bombers could drop their ~H-bombs.

In a word, plenty. The key man almost certainly would

be Col& William W& Wisman, ~SAC's senior controller. He
or his deputy or one of their seven assistants, all full colonels,
mans the heart of the command post twenty-four hours a day. It is a quiet
but impressive room- 140 feet long, thirty-nine feet wide, twenty-one
feet high. Movable panels of floor-to-ceiling maps and charts
are crammed with intelligence information. And Bill Wisman, forty-three,
a farmer's son from Beallsville, Ohio, is a quiet but impressive
man. His eyes are steady anchors of the deepest brown. His movements
and speech are precise, clear and quick. No question ruffles him
or causes him to hesitate. Wisman, who has had the chief controller's
job for four years, calls the signals for a team operating
three rows of dull-gray consoles studded with lights, switches and buttons.
At least a dozen men, some armed, are never far away from him.
In front of him is a gold phone. In emergencies the ~SAC commander,
Gen& Thomas Power, or his deputies and their staff would occupy
a balcony that stretches across the length of the room above Wisman
and his staff. At General Power's seat in the balcony there is
also a gold phone. General Power would participate in the decision
making. Wisman, below, would listen in and act. His consoles can give
him instant contact with more than seventy bases around the world and
with every ~SAC aircraft. He need only pick up one of
the two red telephone receivers at his extreme left, right next to the
big red button marked ALERT. (There are two receivers in case
one should be dropped and damaged.) But Wisman, too, does not
know the go code. He must take it from "the red box". In point
of fact, this is a beige box with a bright red door, about one and a half
feet square and hung from the wall about six feet from the door to
Wisman's right. The box is internally wired so the door can never
be opened without setting off a screeching klaxon ("It's real obnoxious").

Now we must become vague, for we are approaching

one of the nation's most guarded secrets. The codes in the red box-
there are several of them covering various contingencies- are contained
in a sealed ~X-ray-proof "unique device". They are supplied,
a batch at a time, by a secret source and are continually changed
by Wisman or his staff, at random intervals. But even the contents
of Wisman's box cannot start a war. They are mere fragments,
just one portion of preprepared messages. What these fragments are
and how they activate the go order may not be revealed. The pieces must
be placed in the context of the prepared messages by Wisman's staff.
In addition to the authentication and acknowledgment procedures
which precede and follow the sending of the go messages, again in special
codes, each message also contains an "internal authenticator",
another specific signal to convince the recipient that he is getting
the real thing. I asked Wisman what would happen if he broke
out the go codes and tried to start transmitting one. "I'd wind
up full of .38 bullet holes", he said, and there was no question that
he was talking about bullets fired by his coworkers. Now let
us imagine a wing of ~B-52's, on alert near their "positive control
(or fail-safe) points", the spots on the map, many miles from
Soviet territory, beyond which they are forbidden to fly without specific
orders to proceed to their targets. They, too, have fragments of
the go code with them. As Wisman put it, "They have separate pieces
of the pie, and we have the whole pie. Once we send out the whole
pie, they can put their pieces into it. Unless we send out the whole
pie, their pieces mean nothing". Why does Wisman's ever-changing
code always mesh with the fragments in possession of the button pushers?
The answer is a cryptographic secret. At any rate, three
men out of a six-man ~B-52 crew are required to copy down Wisman's
go-to-war message. Each must match Wisman's "pie" with the
fragment that he carries with him. All three must compare notes and agree
to "go". ##

After that, it requires several minutes of concentrated

work, including six separate and deliberate actions by a minimum
of three men sitting at three separate stations in a bomber, each
with another man beside him to help, for an armed bomb to be released.
Unless all gadgets are properly operated- and the wires and seals
from the handles removed first- no damage can be done.

Suddenly, however, their posture changed and the game ended. They
went as rigid as black statuary **h six figures, lean and tall and
angular, went still. Their heads were in the air sniffing. They all
swung at the same instant in the same direction. They saw it before
I did, even with my binoculars. It was nothing more than a tiny distant
rain squall, a dull gray sheet which reached from a layer of clouds
to the earth. In the 360 degrees of horizon it obscured only a degree,
no more. A white man would not have seen it. The aborigines fastened
upon it with a concentration beyond pathos. Watching, they waited
until the squall thickened and began to move in a long drifting slant
across the dry burning land. At once the whole band set off at a lope.
They were chasing a rain cloud. They went after the squall
as mercilessly as a wolf pack after an abandoned cow. I followed them
in the jeep and now they did not care. The games were over, this
was life. Occasionally, for no reason that I could see, they would suddenly
alter the angle of their trot. Sometimes I guessed it was because
the rain squall had changed direction. Sometimes it was to skirt
a gulley. Their gait is impossible to convey in words. It has nothing
of the proud stride of the trained runner about it, it is not a lope,
it is not done with style or verve. It is the gait of the human who
must run to live: arms dangling, legs barely swinging over the ground,
head hung down and only occasionally swinging up to see the target,
a loose motion that is just short of stumbling and yet is wonderfully
graceful. It is a barely controlled skimming of the ground.

They ran for three hours. Finally, avoiding hummocks and seeking low
ground, they intercepted the rain squall. For ten minutes they ran
beneath the squall, raising their arms and, for the first time, shouting
and capering. Then the wind died and the rain squall held steady.
They were studying the ground. Suddenly one of them shouted, ran a
few feet, bent forward and put his mouth to the ground. He had found
a depression with rain water in it. He bent down, a black cranelike figure,
and put his mouth to the ground. With a lordly and generous
gesture,
the discoverer stood up and beckoned to the closest of his fellows. The
other trotted over and swooped at the tiny puddle. In an instant
he had sucked it dry. The aborigine lives on the cruelest land
I have ever seen. Which does not mean that it is ugly. Part of it
is, of course. There are thousands of square miles of salt pan which
are hideous. They are huge areas which have been swept by winds for so
many centuries that there is no soil left, but only deep bare ridges
fifty or sixty yards apart with ravines between them thirty or forty
feet deep and the only thing that moves is a scuttling layer of sand.
Such stretches have an inhuman moonlike quality. But much of the land
which the aborigine wanders <looks> as if it should be hospitable.
It is softened by the saltbush and the bluebush, has a peaceful quality,
the hills roll softly. The malignancy of such a landscape
has been beautifully described by the Australian Charles Bean. He
tells of three men who started out on a trip across a single paddock,
a ten-by-ten-mile square owned by a sheep grazer. They went well-equipped
with everything except knowledge of the "outback" country. "

The countryside looked like a beautiful open park with gentle

slopes and soft gray tree-clumps. Nothing appalling or horrible rushed
upon these men. Only there happened- nothing. There might have
been a pool of cool water behind any of these tree-clumps: only-
there was not. It might have rained, any time; only- it did not.
There might have been a fence or a house just over the next rise;
only- there was not. They lay, with the birds hopping from branch
to branch above them and the bright sky peeping down at them. No one
came". The white men died. And countless others like them have
died. Even today range riders will come upon mummified bodies of
men who attempted nothing more difficult than a twenty-mile hike and slowly
lost direction, were tortured by the heat, driven mad by the constant
and unfulfilled promise of the landscape, and who finally died.

The aborigine is not deceived; he knows that the land is hard

and pitiless. He knows that the economy of life in the "outback"
is awful. There is no room for error or waste. Any organism that falters
or misperceives the signals or weakens is done. I do not know
if such a way of life can come to be a self-conscious challenge, but
I suspect that it can. Perhaps this is what gives the aborigine his
odd air of dignity.

#THE FAMILY AT THE BOULDER#

SEEING an aborigine
today is a difficult thing. Many of them have drifted into the
cities and towns and seaports. Others are confined to vast reservations,
and not only does the Australian government justifiably not wish
them to be viewed as exhibits in a zoo, but on their reservations they
are extremely fugitive, shunning camps, coming together only for <corroborees>
at which their strange culture comes to its highest pitch-
which is very low indeed. I persuaded an Australian friend
who had lived "outback" for years to take me to see some aborigines
living in the bush. It was a difficult and ambiguous kind of negotiation,
even though the rancher was said to be expert in his knowledge
of the aborigines and their language. Finally, however, the arrangements
were made and we drove out into the bush in a Land Rover. We
followed the asphalt road for a few miles and then swung off onto a
smaller road which was nothing more than two tire marks on the earth.
The rancher went a mile down this road and then, when he reached a big
red boulder, swung off the road. At once he started to glance toward
the instrument panel. It took me a moment to realize what was odd
about that panel: there was a gimbaled compass welded to it, which rocked
gently back and forth as the Land Rover bounced about. The rancher
was navigating his way across the flatland. "Do you always
navigate like this"? I asked. "Damned right", he
said. "Once I get out on the flat I do. Some chaps that know an
area well can make their way by landmarks **h a tree here, a wash here,
a boulder there. But if you don't know the place like the palm of
your hand, you'd better use a compass and the speedometer. Two miles
northeast, then five miles southwest **h that sort of thing. Very
simple". He was right. The landscape kept repeating itself.
I would try to memorize landmarks and saw in a half-hour that it was
hopeless. Finally we approached the bivouac of the aborigines. They
were camped beside a large column-shaped boulder: a man, his lubra,
and two children. The sun was not yet high and all of them were in
the small area
of shade cast by the boulder. There was also a dog,
a dingo dog. Its ribs showed, it was a yellow nondescript color,
it suffered from a variety of sores, hair had scabbed off its body in
patches. It lay with its head on its paws and only its eyes moving,
watching us carefully. It struck me as a very bright and very malnourished
dog. No one patted the dog. It was not a pet. It was a worker.

"The buggers love shade", the rancher said. "I suppose

because it saves them some loss of body water. They'll move around
that rock all day, following the shade. During the hottest part of
the day, of course, the sun comes straight down and there isn't any
shade". We drove close to the boulder, stopped the Land Rover,
and walked over toward the family. The man was leaning against
the rock. He gazed away from us as we approached. He was over
six feet tall and very thin. His legs were narrow and very long. Every
bone and muscle in his body showed, but he did not give the appearance
of starving. He had long black hair and a wispy beard. The ridges
over his eyes were huge and his eyelids were half shut. There was something
about his face that disturbed me and it took several seconds
to realize what. It was not merely that flies were crawling over his
face but his narrowed eyelids did not blink when the flies crawled into
his eye sockets. A fly would crawl down the bulging forehead, into
the socket of the eye, walk along the man's lashes and across the wet
surface of the eyeball, and the eye did not blink. The Australian
and I both were wearing insect repellent and were not badly bothered
by insects, but my eyes watered as we stood watching the aborigine.

I turned to look at the lubra. She remained squatting on her heels

all the time we were there; like the man, she was entirely naked.
Her long thin arms moved in a slow rhythmical gesture over the family
possessions which were placed in front of her. There were two rubbing
sticks for making fire, two stones shaped roughly like knives, a woven-root
container which held a few pounds of dried worms and the dead
body of some rodent. There was also a long wooden spear and a woomera,
a spear-throwing device which gives the spear an enormous velocity
and high accuracy. There was also a boomerang, elaborately carved. Everything
was burnished with sweat and grease so that all of the objects
seemed to have been carved from the same material and to be ageless.

The two children, both boys, wandered around the Australian

and me for a few moments and then returned to their work. They squatted
on their heels with their heads bent far forward, their eyes only
a few inches from the ground. They had located the runway of a colony
of ants and as the ants came out of the ground, the boys picked them
up, one at a time, and pinched them dead. The tiny bodies, dropped onto
a dry leaf, made a pile as big as a small apple. The odor
here was more powerful than that which surrounded the town aborigines.
The smell at first was more surprising than unpleasant. It was also
subtly familiar, for it was the odor of the human body, but multiplied
innumerable times because of the fact that the aborigines never bathed.
One's impulse is to say that the smell was a stink and unpleasant.
But that is a cliche and a dishonest one. The smell is sexual, but
so powerfully so that a civilized nose must deny it. Their
skin was covered with a thin coating of sweat and dirt which had almost
the consistency of a second skin. They roll at night in ashes to keep
warm and their second skin has a light dusty cast to it. In spots
such as the elbows and knees the second skin is worn off and I realized
the aborigines were much darker than they appeared; as if the coating
of sweat, dirt, and ashes were a cosmetic. The boys had beautiful
dark eyes and unlike their father they brushed constantly at the flies
and blinked their eyes. "That smell is something, eh, mate"?
the Australian asked. "They swear that every person smells
different and every family smells different from every other. At the
<corroborees,> when they get to dancing and sweating, you'll see
them rubbing up against a man who's supposed to have a specially good
smell. Idje, here", and he nodded at the man, "is said to have
great odor. The stink is all the same to me, but I really think they
can make one another out blindfolded". "Here, Idje, you
fella like tabac"? he said sharply. Idje still stared over our shoulders
at the horizon. The Australian stopped trying to talk a pidgin
I could understand, and spoke strange words from deep in his chest.

It was a fortunate time in which to build, for the seventeenth

century was a great period in Persian art. The architects, the tile
and carpet makers, the potters, painters, calligraphers, and metalsmiths
worked through Abbas's reign and those of his successors to enrich
the city. Travelers entering from the desert were confounded by
what must have seemed an illusion: a great garden filled with nightingales
and roses, cut by canals and terraced promenades, studded with
water tanks of turquoise tile in which were reflected the glistening
blue curves of a hundred domes. At the heart of all of this was the square,
which one such traveler declared to be "as spacious, as pleasant
and aromatick a Market as any in the Universe". In time Isfahan
came to be known as "half the world", Isfahan <nisf-i-jahan>.

In the early eighteenth century this fantastic city, then the

size of London, started to decline. The Afghans invaded; the Safavids
fell from power; the capital went elsewhere; the desert encroached.
Isfahan became more of a legend than a place, and now it is
for many people simply a name to which they attach their notions of
old Persia and sometimes of the East. They think of it as a kind of
spooky museum in which they may half see and half imagine the old splendor.

Those who actually get there find that it isn't spooky

at all but as brilliant as a tile in sunlight. But even for them it
remains a museum, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say a tomb,
a tomb in which Persia lies well preserved but indeed dead. Everyone
is ready to grant the Persians their history, but almost no one is
willing to acknowledge their present. It seems that for Persia, and
especially for this city, there are only two times: the glorious past
and the corrupt, depressing, sterile present. The one apparent connection
between the two is a score of buildings which somehow or other
have survived and which naturally enough are called "historical monuments".

However, just as all the buildings have not fallen and

flowed back to their original mud, so the values which wanted them
and saw that they were built have not all disappeared. The values and
talents which made the tile and the dome, the rug, the poem and the miniature,
continue in certain social institutions which rise above the
ordinary life of this city, as the great buildings rise above blank walls
and dirty lanes. Often, too, the social institutions are housed
in these pavilions and palaces and bridges, for these great structures
are not simply "historical monuments"; they are the places where
Persians live. The promenade, for example, continues to take
place on the Chahar Bagh, a mile-long garden of plane and poplar trees
that now serves as the city's principal street. ?t takes place
as well along the terraces and through the arcades of the Khaju bridge,
and also in the gardens of the square. On Fridays, the day when
many Persians relax with poetry, talk, and a samovar, people do not,
it is true, stream into Chehel Sotun- a pavilion and garden built
by Shah Abbas /2, in the seventeenth century- but they do retire
into hundreds of pavilions throughout the city and up the river valley,
which are smaller, more humble copies of the former. And of course
religious life continues to center in the more famous mosques, and commercial
life- very much a social institution- in the bazaar. Those
three other great activities of the Persians, the bath, the teahouse,
and the <zur khaneh> (the latter a kind of club in which a leader
and a group of men in an octagonal pit move through a rite of calisthenics,
dance, chanted poetry, and music), do not take place in buildings
to which entrance tickets are sold, but some of them occupy splendid
examples of Persian domestic architecture: long, domed, chalk-white
rooms with daises of turquoise tile, their end walls cut through
to the orchards and the sky by open arches. But more important,
and the thing which the casual traveler and the blind sojourner often
do not see, is that these places and activities are often the settings
in which Persians exercise their extraordinary aesthetic sensibilities.
Water, air, fruit, poetry, music, the human form- these things
are important to Persians, and they experience them with an intense
and discriminating awareness. I should like, by the way, to make
it clear that I am not using the word "Persians" carelessly.
I don't mean a few aesthetes who play about with sensations, like
a young prince in a miniature dabbling his hand in a pool. These things
are important to almost all Persians and perhaps most important to
the most ordinary. The men crying love poems in an orchard on any summer's
night are as often as not the <lutihaw,> mustachioed toughs
who spend most of their lives in and out of the local prisons, brothels,
and teahouses. A few months ago it was a fairly typical landlord
who in the dead of night lugged me up a mountainside to drink from a spring
famous in the neighborhood for its clarity and flavor. Not long
ago an acquaintance, a slick-headed water rat of a lad up from the maw
of the city, stood on the balcony puffing his first cigarette in weeks.
The air, he said, was just right; a cigarette would taste particularly
good. I really didn't know what he meant. It was a nice day,
granted. But <he> knew; he sniffed the air and licked it on his
lip and knew as a vintner knows a vintage. The natural world
then, plus poetry and some kinds of art, receives from the most ordinary
of Persians a great deal of attention. The line of an eyebrow,
the color of the skin, a ghazal from Hafiz, the purity of spring water,
the long afternoon among the boughs which crowd the upper story of
a pavilion- these things are noticed, judged, and valued. Nowhere
in Isfahan is this rich aesthetic life of the Persians shown so
well as during the promenade at the Khaju bridge. There has probably
always been a bridge of some sort at the southeastern corner of the
city. For one thing, there is a natural belt of rock across the river
bed; for another, it was here that one of the old caravan routes came
in. It was to provide a safe and spacious crossing for these caravans,
and also to make a pleasance for the city, that Shah Abbas /2,
in about 1657 built, of sun-baked brick, tile, and stone, the present
bridge. It is a splendid structure. From upstream it looks like a
long arcaded box laid across the river; from downstream, where the
water level is much lower, it is a high, elaborately facaded pavilion.

The top story contains more than thirty alcoves separated from
each other by spandrels of blue and yellow tile. At either end and
in the center there are bays which contain nine greater alcoves as frescoed
and capacious as church apses. Here, in the old days- when they
had come to see the moon or displays of fireworks- sat the king and
his court while priests, soldiers, and other members of the party lounged
in the smaller alcoves between. Below, twenty vaults tunnel
through the understructure of the bridge. These are traversed by
another line of vaults, and thus rooms, arched on all four sides, are
formed. Down through the axis of the bridge there is a long diminishing
vista like a visual echo of piers and arches, while the vaults fronting
upstream and down frame the sunset and sunrise, the mountains and
river pools. Here, on the hottest day, it is cool beneath the stone
and fresh from the water flowing in the sluices at the bottom of the
vaults. On the downstream, or "pavilion", side these vaults
give out onto terraces twice as wide as the bridge itself. From the
terraces- eighteen in all- broad flights of steps descend into the
water or onto still more terraces barely above the level of the river.
Out of water, brick, and tile they have made far more than just a
bridge. On spring and summer evenings people leave their shops
and houses and walk up through the lanes of the city to the bridge. It
is a great spectacle. The bridge itself rises up from the river, light-flared
and enormous, like the outdoor set for an epic opera. Crowds
press along the terraces, down the steps, in and out of the arcades,
massing against it as though it were a fortress under siege. All kinds
come to walk in the promenade: merchants from the bazaar bickering
over a deal; a Bakhtiari khan in a cap and hacking jacket; dervishes
who stand with the stillness of the blind, their eyes filmed with
rheum and visions; the old Kajar princes arriving in their ancient
limousines; students, civil servants, beggars, musicians, hawkers,
and clowns. Families go out to the edge of the terraces to sit on
carpets around a samovar. Below, people line the steps, as though on
bleachers, to watch the sky and river. Above, in the tiled prosceniums
of the alcoves, boys sing the ghazals of Hafiz and Saadi, while at
the very bottom, in the vaults, the toughs and blades of the city hoot
and bang their drums, drink arak, play dice, and dance. Here
in an evening Persians enjoy many of the things which are important
to them: poetry, water, the moon, a beautiful face. To a stranger
their delight in these things may seem paradoxical, for Persians chase
the golden calf as much as any people. Many of them, moreover, are
beginning to complain about the scarcity of Western amusements and to
ridicule the old life of the bazaar merchant, the mullah, and the peasant.
Nonetheless, they take time out- much time- from the game of
grab and these new Western experiments to go to the gardens and riverbanks.
Above all, they will stop in the middle of anything, anywhere,
to hear or quote some poetry. Poetry in Persian life is far
more than a common ground on which- in a society deeply fissured by
antagonisms- all may stand. It contains, in fact, their whole outlook
on life. And it is expressed, at least to their taste, in a perfect
form. Poetry for a Persian is nothing less than truth and beauty.
In most Western cultures today these twins have been sent away to the
libraries and museums. In Persia, where practically speaking there
are no museums or libraries or, for that matter, hardly any books, the
twins run free. It is perhaps difficult to conceive, but imagine
that tonight on London bridge the Teddy boys of the East End
will gather to sing Marlowe, Herrick, Shakespeare, and perhaps some
lyrics of their own. That, at any rate, is what happens at the Khaju
bridge. Boys and men go along the riverbank or to the alcoves in the
top arcade. Here in these little rooms- or stages arched open to
the sky and river- they choose a few lines out of the hundreds they
may know and sing them according to one of the modes into which Persian
music is divided. Each mode is believed to have a specific attribute-
one inducing pleasure, another generosity, another love, and so
on, to include all of the emotions. The singer simply matches the poem
to a mode; for example, the mode of bravery to this anonymous folk
poem: "<They brought me news that Spring is in the plains And
Ahmad's blood the crimson tulip stains; Go, tell his aged mother
that her son Fought with a thousand foes, and he was one>".
Or the mode of love to this fragment by a recent poet: "<Know
ye, fair folk who dwell on earth Or shall hereafter come to birth, That
here, with dust upon his eyes, Iraj, the sweet-tongued singer, lies.
In this true lover's tomb interred A world of love lies sepulchred>
**h". These songs (practically all Persian music, for
that matter) are limited to a range of two octaves. Yet within this
limitation there is an astonishing variety: design as intricate as
that in the carpet or miniature, with the melodic line like the painted
or woven line often flowing into an arabesque.
<Die Frist ist um, und wiederum verstrichen sind sieben Jahr,> the
Maestro quoted <The Flying Dutchman,> as he told of his career
and wanderings, explaining that the number seven had significantly recurred
in his life several times. The music director of the Pittsburgh
Symphony Orchestra, William Steinberg, has molded his group
into a prominent musical organization, which is his life. When he
added to his Pittsburgh commitments the directorship of the London
Philharmonic Orchestra in 1958, he conducted one hundred fifty concerts
within nine months, "commuting" between the two cities. This
schedule became too strenuous, even for the energetic and conscientious
Mr& Steinberg. His London contract was rescinded, and now, he
explains cheerfully, as a bright smile lightens his intense, mobile face,
"I conduct only one hundred and twenty concerts"! Our
meeting took place in May, 1961, during one of the Maestro's stop-overs
in New York, before he left for Europe. As we began to converse
in the lounge of his Fifth Avenue hotel, his restlessness and
sensitivity to light and sound became immediately apparent. Seeking
an obscure, dark, relatively quiet corner in the airy room otherwise
suffused with afternoon sunshine, he asked if the soft background music
could be turned off. Unfortunately, it was Muzak, which automatically
is piped into the public rooms, and which <nolens volens> had to
be endured. As he talked about himself, time and again stuffing and
dragging on his pipe, Steinberg began to relax and the initial hurried
feeling grew faint and was dispelled. Did he come from a musical
family? Yes: though not professional musicians, they were a
music-loving family. In his native Cologne, where his mother taught
him to play the piano, he was able to read notes before he learned the
alphabet. She even devised a system of colors, whereby the boy could
easily distinguish the different note values. When he started school
at the age of five-and-a-half, he could not understand why the alphabet
begins with the letter ~A, instead of ~C, as in the scale. Because,
like many other children, he intensely disliked practicing Czerny
<Etudes,> he composed his own studies. When he was eight he began
violin lessons. Soon he was playing in the Cologne Municipal Orchestra,
and during World War /1,, when musicians were scarce, he
joined the opera orchestra as well. Steinberg claims that these early
years of orchestra participation were of invaluable help to his career.
"By observing the conductor", he says with a twinkle in his
eyes, "I learned how not to conduct". The musician ran away
from school when he was fifteen, but this escapade did not save him
from the Gymnasium. Simultaneously, he pursued his musical studies
at the conservatory, receiving sound training in counterpoint and harmony,
as well in the violin and piano. His professional career began when
he was twenty; he became Otto Klemperer's personal assistant
at the Cologne Opera, and a year later was promoted to the position
of regular conductor. Wasn't this an unusually young age to
fill such a responsible post? Yes, the Maestro assented. Had
he always wished to be a conductor? No, originally he had hoped
to become a concert pianist and had even performed as such. However,
when he assumed the duties of a conductor, he relinquished his career
as a pianist. Five years were spent with the Cologne Opera,
after which he was called to Prague by Alexander von Zemlinsky, teacher
of Arnold Scho^nberg and Erich Korngold. In 1927 he succeeded
Zemlinsky as opera director of the German Theater at Prague.
During his tenure he also fulfilled guest engagements at the Berlin
State Opera. Two years later he became director of the Frankfurt Opera,
where he remained until he lost this position in 1933 through the
rise of the Hitler regime. During these years the youthful conductor
had contributed greatly to the high level of musical life in Germany.
He had presented the first German performances of Puccini's
<Manon Lescaut> and de Falla's
<La Vida Breve>. The Frankfurt
years were particularly noteworthy for his performance of Berg's
<Wozzek> soon after the Berlin premiere under Erich Kleiber,
and the world premiere of Scho^nberg's <Von heute auf morgen>.
At the outset of his career, Steinberg had dedicated himself to the
advancement of contemporary music by vowing to do a Scho^nberg work
every year. In Frankfurt, too, he directed the Museum and Opera
House concerts which, in addition to the standard repertoire, featured
novelties like Erdmann's Piano Concerto and Mahler's Sixth
Symphony. Because of the political upheaval in Germany in the
1930's,
Steinberg was forced to restrict his activities to the Jewish
community. Through the Frankfurt Jewish <Kulturbund> he began
to give sonata recitals in synagogues, with Cellist Emanuel Feuermann.
As more and more Jewish musicians lost their jobs with professional
organizations Steinberg united them into the Frankfurt <Kulturbund>
Orchestra, which also gave guest performances in other German
cities. In 1936 he accepted the leadership of the Berlin <Kulturbund>.
In the fall of that year the best musicians of the Berlin
and Frankfurt <Kulturbund> orchestras joined under the combined efforts
of Bronislaw Hubermann and Steinberg to become the Palestine
Orchestra- now known as the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra- with
Steinberg as founder-conductor. In 1938, at the insistence
of Arturo Toscanini, Steinberg left Germany for the United States,
by way of Switzerland. After he had spent the first three years
in New York as associate conductor, at Toscanini's invitation, of
the ~NBC Orchestra, he made numerous guest appearances throughout
the United States and Latin America. In 1945 he became conductor
of the Buffalo Philharmonic. Seven years later he was asked to become
director of the Pittsburgh Symphony. Since 1944 he has also conducted
regularly at the San Francisco Opera, where he made his debut
with a memorable performance of Verdi's <Falstaff>. In recent
years he has traveled widely in Europe, conducting in Italy, France,
Austria, and Switzerland. He returned to Germany for the first
time in 1953, where he has since conducted in Cologne, Frankfurt,
and Berlin. Where in Europe was he going now? First
of all, to Italy for a short vacation- Forte dei Marmi, a place
he loves. Since it is not far from Viareggio, he will visit Puccini's
house, as he never fails to do, to pay his respects to the memory
of the composer of <La Boheme,> which he considers one of Puccini's
masterpieces. Steinberg spoke with warmth and enthusiasm about
Italy: "Rome is my second home. I consider it the center of the
world and make it a point to be there once a year". He will conduct
two concerts at the Accademia di Santa Cecilia, as well as concerts
in Munich and Cologne. "Then I return to the United States
for engagements at the Hollywood Bowl and in Philadelphia", he
added. The forthcoming season in Pittsburgh also promises to
be of unusual interest. There will be premieres of new works, made possible
through Ford Foundation commissions: Carlisle Floyd's <Mystery,>
with Phyllis Curtin as soprano soloist. Other world premieres
will be Gardner Read's Third Symphony and Burle Marx's
<Samba Concertante>. "And next year we will do- also
a Ford commission- a piano concerto by Elliott Carter, with Jacob
Lateiner as soloist. Of course, I shall conduct Mahler and Bruckner
works in the coming season, as usual. We'll play Bruckner's
Fifth Symphony in the original version, and Mahler's Seventh-
the least accessible, known, and played of Mahler's works. My Pittsburghers
have become real addicts to Mahler and Bruckner".

He added that he also stresses the works of these favorite masters

on tour, especially Mahler's First and Fourth symphonies, and
<Das Lied von der Erde,> and Bruckner's Sixth- which is rarely
played- and Seventh. Bruckner's Eighth he refers to as "my
travel symphony". He recalled that in California after a critic
had attacked him for "still trying to sell Bruckner to the Americans",
the public's response at the next concert was a standing ovation.

"Now that Bruno Walter is virtually in retirement and

my dear friend Dimitri Mitropoulos is no longer with us, I am probably
the only one- with the possible exception of Leonard Bernstein-
who has this special affinity for and champions the works of Bruckner
and Mahler". Since he introduces so much modern music,
I could not resist asking how he felt about it. "There was
always and at all times a contemporary music and it expresses the era
in which it was created. But I usually stick to the old phrase:
<'Ich habe ein Amt, aber keine Meinung> (I hold an office, but
I do not feel entitled to have an opinion). I consider it to be my
job to expose the public to what is being written today". With
all his musical activities, did he have the time and inclination to
do anything else? He had just paid a brief visit to the Frick Collection
to admire his favorite paintings by Rembrandt and Franz Hals.
He was not enthusiastic over the newly acquired Claude Lorrain,
but reminisced with pleasure over a Poussin exhibit he had been able
to see in Paris a year ago. And how did he feel about modern
art? Again Steinberg was cautious and replied with a smile that he
was not exposed to it enough to hazard comments. "As my wife puts
it", he said, again with a twinkle in his eyes, "all you know is
your music. But after all, you never learned anything else"!

What did he do for relaxation? Like his late colleague, Mitropoulos,

he reads mystery stories, in particular Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
He cited Heine and Stendhal as favorites in literature.

But his prime interest, apart from music, he insisted seriously, was
his family- his wife, daughter and son. At the moment he was excited
about his son's having received the Prix de Rome in archaeology
and was looking forward to being present this summer at the excavation
of an Etruscan tomb. "Both children are musical and my wife is
a music lover of unfailing instinct and judgment".
"IS the attitude of German youth comparable to that of "the
angry
young men' of England"? was the topic for a round-table discussion
at the Bayerische Rundfunk in Munich. I was chairman,
the only not youthful participant. Since attack serves to stimulate
interest in broadcasts, I added to my opening statement a sentence in
which I claimed that German youth seemed to lack the enthusiasm which
is a necessary ingredient of anger, and might be classified as uninterested
and bored rather than angry. I was far from convinced of the
truth of my statement, but could not think of anything that might evoke
responses more quickly. "It is easy for you to talk";
countered a twenty year old law student, "you travel around the world.
We would like to do that too". "But you want a job guaranteed
when you return", I continued my attack. "You must have
some security", said a young clerk. When I mentioned that
for my first long voyage I did not even have the money for the return
fare, but had trusted to luck that I would earn a sufficient amount,
the young people looked at me doubtingly. One girl expressed what was
obviously in their minds. "Would you advise us to act the
same way? You might have failed. I think it is rather foolhardy to
trust to luck". Others mentioned that I might have had to
ask
friends or even strangers for help and that to be stranded in a foreign
country without sufficient funds did not contribute to international
understanding. The debate needed no additional controversy
and soon I could ask each individually what he expected from life, what
his hopes were and what his fears. Though the four boys and
two girls, the youngest nineteen years of age, the oldest twenty-four,
came from varying backgrounds and had different professional and personal
interests, there was surprising agreement among them. What they
wished for most was security; what they feared most was war or political
instability in their own country. The ideal home, they
agreed, would be a small private house or a city apartment of four to
five rooms, just enough for a family consisting of husband, wife, and
two children. No one wanted a larger family or no children, and none
hoped for a castle or said that living in less settled circumstances would
be satisfactory. All expressed interest in world affairs
but no one offered to make any sacrifices to satisfy this interest.
##

ONCE again, as in the days of the Founding Fathers, America

faces a stern test. That test, as President Kennedy forthrightly
depicted it in his State of the Union message, will determine "whether
a nation organized and governed such as ours can endure".

It is well then that in this hour both of "national peril"

and of "national opportunity" we can take counsel with the men who
made the nation. Incapable of self-delusion, the Founding Fathers
found the crisis of their time to be equally grave, and yet they had
confidence that America would surmount it and that a republic of free
peoples would prosper and serve as an example to a world aching for liberty.

Seven Founders- George Washington, Benjamin Franklin,

John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Alexander Hamilton, James
Madison and John Jay- determined the destinies of the new nation.
In certain respects, their task was incomparably greater than ours today,
for there was nobody before them to show them the way. As Madison
commented to Jefferson in 1789, "We are in a wilderness without
a single footstep to guide us. Our successors will have an easier task".

They thought of themselves, to use Jefferson's words,

as "the Argonauts" who had lived in "the Heroic Age". Accordingly,
they took special pains to preserve their papers as essential
sources for posterity. Their writings assume more than dramatic or
patriotic interest because of their conviction that the struggle in
which they were involved was neither selfish nor parochial but, rather,
as Washington in his last wartime circular reminded his fellow countrymen,
that "with our fate will the destiny of unborn millions be involved".

Strong men with strong opinions, frank to the point

of being refreshingly indiscreet, the Founding Seven were essentially
congenial minds, and their agreements with each other were more consequential
than their differences. Even though in most cases the completion
of the definitive editions of their writings is still years off,
enough documentation has already been assembled to warrant drawing
a new composite profile of the leadership which performed the heroic dual
feats of winning American independence and founding a new nation.

Before merging them into a common profile it is well to remember

that their separate careers were extraordinary. Certainly no other
seven American statesmen from any later period achieved so much in
so concentrated a span of years. Eldest of the seven, Benjamin
Franklin, a New Englander transplanted to Philadelphia, wrote the
most dazzling success story in our history. The young printer's apprentice
achieved greatness in a half-dozen different fields, as editor
and publisher, scientist, inventor, philanthropist and statesman.
Author of the Albany Plan of Union, which, had it been adopted, might
have avoided the Revolution, he fought the colonists' front-line
battles in London, negotiated the treaty of alliance with France and
the peace that ended the war, headed the state government of Pennsylvania,
and exercised an important moderating influence at the Federal
Convention. ##

ON a military mission for his native Virginia

the youthful George Washington touched off the French and Indian
War, then guarded his colony's frontier as head of its militia.
Commanding the Continental Army for six long years of the Revolution,
he was the indispensable factor in the ultimate victory. Retiring
to his beloved Mount Vernon, he returned to preside over the Federal
Convention, and was the only man in history to be unanimously elected
President. During his two terms the Constitution was tested and
found workable, strong national policies were inaugurated, and the
traditions and powers of the Presidential office firmly fixed.
John Adams fashioned much of pre-Revolutionary radical ideology, wrote
the constitution of his home state of Massachusetts, negotiated,
with Franklin and Jay, the peace with Britain and served as our first
Vice President and our second President. ##

HIS political
opponent and lifetime friend, Thomas Jefferson, achieved immortality
through his authorship of the Declaration of Independence, but
equally notable were the legal and constitutional reforms he instituted
in his native Virginia, his role as father of our territorial system,
and his acquisition of the Louisiana Territory during his first
term as President. During the greater part of Jefferson's
career he enjoyed the close collaboration of a fellow Virginian, James
Madison, eight years his junior. The active sponsor of Jefferson's
measure for religious liberty in Virginia, Madison played the most
influential single role in the drafting of the Constitution and in
securing its ratification in Virginia, founded the first political
party in American history, and, as Jefferson's Secretary of State
and his successor in the Presidency, guided the nation through the
troubled years of our second war with Britain. If Franklin was
an authentic genius, then Alexander Hamilton, with his exceptional
precocity, consuming energy, and high ambition, was a political prodigy.
His revolutionary pamphlets, published when he was only 19, quickly
brought him to the attention of the patriot leaders. Principal author
of "The Federalist", he swung New York over from opposition
to the Constitution to ratification almost single-handedly. His
collaboration with Washington, begun when he was the general's aide
during the Revolution, was resumed when he entered the first Cabinet
as Secretary of the Treasury. His bold fiscal program and his broad
interpretation of the Constitution stand as durable contributions.
##

LESS dazzling than Hamilton, less eloquent than Jefferson,

John Jay commands an equally high rank among the Founding Fathers.
He served as president of the Continental Congress. He played
the leading role in negotiating the treaty with Great Britain that
ended the Revolution, and directed America's foreign affairs throughout
the Confederation period. As first Chief Justice, his strong
nationalist opinions anticipated John Marshall. He ended his public
career as a two-term governor of New York. These Seven Founders
constituted an intellectual and social elite, the most respectable
and disinterested leadership any revolution ever confessed. Their
social status was achieved in some cases by birth, as with Washington,
Jefferson and Jay; in others by business and professional acumen,
as with Franklin and Adams, or, in Hamilton's case, by an influential
marriage. Unlike so many of the power-starved intellectuals
in underdeveloped nations of our own day, they commanded both prestige
and influence before the Revolution started. As different
physically as the tall, angular Jefferson was from the chubby, rotund
Adams, the seven were striking individualists. Ardent, opinionated,
even obstinate, they were amazingly articulate, wrote their own copy,
and were masters of phrasemaking. ##

CAPABLE of enduring friendships,

they were also stout controversialists, who could write with
a drop of vitriol on their pens. John Adams dismissed John Dickinson,
who voted against the Declaration of Independence, as "a certain
great fortune and piddling genius". Washington castigated his
critic, General Conway, as being capable of "all the meanness of intrigue
to gratify the absurd resentment of disappointed vanity". And
Hamilton, who felt it "a religious duty" to oppose Aaron Burr's
political ambitions, would have been a better actuarial risk had
he shown more literary restraint. The Seven Founders were
completely dedicated to the public service. Madison once remarked:
"My life has been so much a public one", a comment which fits the
careers of the other six. Franklin retired from editing and publishing
at the age of 42, and for the next forty-two years devoted himself
to public, scientific, and philanthropic interests. Washington never
had a chance to work for an extended stretch at the occupation he loved
best, plantation management. He served as Commander in Chief during
the Revolution without compensation. ##

JOHN ADAMS took

to heart the advice given him by his legal mentor, Jeremiah Gridley,
to "pursue the study of the law, rather than the gain of it". In
taking account of seventeen years of law practice, Adams concluded
that "no lawyer in America ever did so much business as I did"
and "for so little profit". When the Revolution broke out, he, along
with Jefferson and Jay, abandoned his career at the bar, with considerable
financial sacrifice. Hamilton, poorest of the seven,
gave up a brilliant law practice to enter Washington's Cabinet.
While he was handling the multi-million-dollar funding operations of
the Government he had to resort to borrowing small sums from friends.
"If you can conveniently let me have twenty dollars", he wrote
one friend in 1791 when he was Secretary of the Treasury. To
support his large family Hamilton went back to the law after each spell
of public service. Talleyrand passed his New York law office one
night on the way to a party. Hamilton was bent over his desk, drafting
a legal paper by the light of a candle. The Frenchman was astonished.
"I have just come from viewing a man who had made the fortune
of his country, but now is working all night in order to support his
family", he reflected. ##

ALL seven combined ardent devotion

to the cause of revolution with a profound respect for legality. John
Adams asserted in the Continental Congress' Declaration of
Rights that the demands of the colonies were in accordance with their
charters, the British Constitution and the common law, and Jefferson
appealed in the Declaration of Independence "to the tribunal of
the world" for support of a revolution justified by "the laws of
nature and of nature's God". They fought hard, but they were
forgiving to former foes, and sought to prevent vindictive legislatures
from confiscating Tory property in violation of the Treaty of
1783. This sense of moderation and fairness is superbly exemplified
in an exchange of letters between John Jay and a Tory refugee,
Peter Van Schaack. Jay had participated in the decision that exiled
his old friend Van Schaack. Yet when, at war's end, the ex-Tory
made the first move to resume correspondence, Jay wrote him from
Paris, where he was negotiating the peace settlement:
"As
an independent American I considered all who were not for us, and you
amongst the rest, as against us, yet be assured that John Jay never
ceased to be the friend of Peter Van Schaack". The latter
in turn assured him that "were I arraigned at the bar, and you my
judge, I should expect to stand or fall only by the merits of my cause".

All seven recognized that independence was but the first

step toward building a nation. "We have now a national character
to establish", Washington wrote in 1783. "Think continentally",
Hamilton counseled the young nation. This new force, love of country,
super-imposed upon- if not displacing- affectionate ties to one's
own state, was epitomized by Washington. His first inaugural
address speaks of "my country whose voice I can never hear but with
veneration and love". All sought the fruition of that nationalism
in a Federal Government with substantial powers. Save Jefferson,
all participated in the framing or ratification of the Federal
Constitution. They supported it, not as a perfect instrument, but as
the best obtainable. Historians have traditionally regarded the great
debates of the Seventeen Nineties as polarizing the issues of centralized
vs& limited government, with Hamilton and the nationalists
supporting the former and Jefferson and Madison upholding the latter
position. ##

THE state's rights position was formulated by

Jefferson and Madison in the Kentucky and Virginia Resolves, but
in their later careers as heads of state the two proved themselves better
Hamiltonians than Jeffersonians. In purchasing Louisiana, Jefferson
had to adopt Hamilton's broad construction of the Constitution,
and so did Madison in advocating the rechartering of Hamilton's
bank, which he had so strenuously opposed at its inception, and in
adopting a Hamiltonian protective tariff. Indeed, the old Jeffersonians
were far more atune to the Hamilton-oriented Whigs than they
were to the Jacksonian Democrats. ##

WHEN, in 1832, the South

Carolina nullifiers adopted the principle of state interposition
which Madison had advanced in his old Virginia Resolve, they elicited
no encouragement from that senior statesman. In his political testament,
"Advice to My Country", penned just before his death, Madison
expressed the wish "that the Union of the States be cherished
and perpetuated. Let the open enemy to it be regarded as a Pandora
with her box opened; and the disguised one, as the serpent creeping
with his deadly wiles into Paradise".

#TOBACCO ROAD IS DEAD. LONG LIVE TOBACCO ROAD.#

Nostalgic Yankee
readers of Erskine Caldwell are today informed by proud Georgians
that Tobacco Road is buried beneath a four-lane super highway, over
which travel each day suburbanite businessmen more concerned with the
Dow-Jones average than with the cotton crop. Thus we are compelled
to face the urbanization of the South- an urbanization which, despite
its dramatic and overwhelming effects upon the Southern culture,
has been utterly ignored by the bulk of Southern writers. Indeed, it
seems that only in today's Southern fiction does Tobacco Road,
with all the traditional trimmings of sowbelly and cornbread and mint
juleps, continue to live- but only as a weary, overexploited phantom.

Those writers known collectively as the "Southern school"

have received accolades from even those critics least prone to eulogize;
according to many critics, in fact, the South has led the North
in literature since the Civil War, both quantitatively and qualitatively.
Such writers as William Faulkner and Robert Penn Warren
have led the field of somewhat less important writers in a sort of post-bellum
renaissance. It is interesting, however, that despite this
strong upsurge in Southern writing, almost none of the writers has
forsaken the firmly entrenched concept of the white-suited big-daddy colonel
sipping a mint julep as he silently recounts the revenue from the
season's cotton and tobacco crops; of the stereotyped Negro servants
chanting hymns as they plow the fields; of these and a host of
other antiquated legends that deny the South its progressive leaps
of the past century. This is not to say that the South is no longer
agrarian; such a statement would be the rankest form of oversimplification.
But the South is, and has been for the past century, engaged
in a wide-sweeping urbanization which, oddly enough, is not reflected
in its literature. In 1900 the South was only 15% urban;
in 1950 it had become 47.1% urban. In a mere half-century the South
has more than tripled its urban status. There is a New South emerging,
a South losing the folksy traditions of an agrarian society with
the rapidity of an avalanche- especially within recent decades. As
the New South snowballs toward further urbanization, it becomes more
and more homogeneous with the North- a tendency which Willard
Thorp terms "Yankeefication", as evidenced in such cities as Charlotte,
Birmingham, and Houston. It is said that, even at the present
stage of Southern urbanization, such a city as Atlanta is not distinctly
unlike Columbus or Trenton. Undoubtedly even the old Southern
stalwart Richmond has felt the new wind: William Styron mentions
in his latest novel an avenue named for Bankhead McGruder, a Civil
War general, now renamed, in typical California fashion, "Buena
Vista Terrace". The effects of television and other mass media
are erasing regional dialects and localisms with a startling force.
As for progress, the "backward South" can boast of Baton Rouge,
which increased its population between 1940 and 1950 by two hundred
and sixty-two percent, to 126,000, the second largest growth of the period
for all cities over 25,000. The field, then, is ripe for
new Southerners to step to the fore and write of this twentieth-century
phenomenon, the Southern Yankeefication: the new urban economy,
the city-dweller, the pains of transition, the labor problems; the
list is, obviously, endless. But these sources have not been tapped.
Truman Capote is still reveling in Southern Gothicism, exaggerating
the old Southern legends into something beautiful and grotesque, but
as unreal as- or even <more> unreal than- yesterday. William
Styron, while facing the changing economy with a certain uneasy reluctance,
insists he is not to be classified as a Southern writer and
yet includes traditional Southern concepts in everything he publishes.
Even the great god Faulkner, the South's one probable contender
for literary immortality, has little concerned himself with these matters;
such are simply not within his bounded province. Where
are the writers to treat these changes? Has the agrarian tradition
become such an addiction that the switch to urbanism is somehow dreaded
or unwanted? Perhaps present writers hypnotically cling to the
older order because they consider it useful and reliable through repeated
testings over the decades. Lacking the pioneer spirit necessary to
write of a <new> economy, these writers seem to be contenting themselves
with an old one that is now as defunct as Confederate money.

An example of the changes which have crept over the Southern region
may be seen in the Southern Negro's quest for a position in
the white-dominated society, a problem that has been reflected in regional
fiction especially since 1865. Today the Negro must discover his
role in an <industrialized> South, which indicates that the racial
aspect of the Southern dilemma hasn't changed radically, but rather
has gradually come to be reflected in this new context, this new coat
of paint. The Negro faces as much, if not more, difficulty in fitting
himself into an urban economy as he did in an agrarian one. This
represents a gradual change in an ever-present social problem. But there
have been abrupt changes as well: the sit-ins, the picket lines,
the bus strikes- all of these were unheard-of even ten years ago.
Today's evidence, such as the fact that only three Southern states
(South Carolina, Alabama and Mississippi) still openly defy integration,
would have astounded many of yesterday's Southerners into speechlessness.
Other examples of <gradual> changes that have
affected the Negro have been his moving up, row by row, in the busses;
his requesting, and often getting, higher wages, better working conditions,
better schools- changes that were slowly emerging even before
the Supreme Court decision of 1954. Then came this decision, which
sped the process of gaining equality (or perhaps hindered it; only
historical evolution will determine which): an <abrupt> change.

Since 1954 the Negro's desire for social justice has led
to an ironically anarchical rebellion. He has frequently refused to move
from white lunch counters, refused to obey <local> laws which he
considers unjust, while in other cases he has appealed to <federal>
laws. This bold self-assertion, after decades of humble subservience,
is indeed a twentieth-century phenomenon, an abrupt change in the Southern
way of existence. A new order is thrusting itself into being.
A new South is emerging after the post-bellum years of hesitation,
uncertainty, and lack of action from the Negro in defining his new role
in the amorphously defined socio-political organizations of the white
man. The modern Negro has not made a decisive debut into Southern
fiction. It is clear that, while most writers enjoy picturing
the Negro as a woolly-headed, humble old agrarian who mutters "yassuhs"
and "sho' nufs" with blissful deference to his white employer
(or, in Old South terms, "massuh"), this stereotype is doomed
to become in reality as obsolete as Caldwell's Lester. While
there may still be many Faulknerian Lucas Beauchamps scattered through
the rural South, such men appear to be a vanishing breed. Writers
openly admit that the Negro is easier to write than the white man;
but they obviously mean by this, not a Negro personality, but a Negro
<type>. Presenting an individualized Negro character, it would
seem, is one of the most difficult assignments a Southern writer could
tackle; and the success of such an endeavor is, as suggested above,
glaringly rare. Just as the Negro situation points up the
gradual and abrupt changes affecting Southern life, it also points up
the non-representation of urbanism in Southern literature. The book
concerned with the Negro's role in an urban society is rare indeed;
recently only Keith Wheeler's novel, <Peaceable Lane>, has
openly faced the problem. All but the most rabid of Confederate
flag wavers admit that the Old Southern tradition is defunct in
actuality and sigh that its passing was accompanied by the disappearance
of many genteel and aristocratic traditions of the reputedly languid
ante-bellum way of life. Many earlier writers, mourning the demise
of the old order, tended to romanticize and exaggerate this "gracious
Old South" imagery, creating such lasting impressions as Margaret
Mitchell's
"Tara" plantation. Modern writers, who are supposed
to keep their fingers firmly upon the pulse of their subjects, insist
upon drawing out this legend, prolonging its burial, when it well deserves
a rest after the overexploitation of the past century. Perhaps
these writers have been too deeply moved by this romanticizing; but
they can hardly deny that, exaggerated or not, the old panorama is dead.
As John T& Westbrook says in his article, "Twilight of Southern
Regionalism" (<Southwest Review>, Winter 1957): "**h
The miasmal mausoleum where an Old South, already too minutely
autopsied in prose and poetry, should be left to rest in peace, forever
dead and (let us fervently hope) forever done with". Westbrook
further bemoans the Southern writers' creation of an unreal image
of their homeland, which is too readily assimilated by both foreign
readers and visiting Yankees: "Our northerner is suspicious of
all this crass evidence [of urbanization] presented to his senses.
It bewilders and befuddles him. He is too deeply steeped in William
Faulkner and Robert Penn Warren. The fumes of progress are in his
nose and the bright steel of industry towers before his eyes, but his
heart is away in Yoknapatawpha County with razorback hogs and night
riders. On this trip to the South he wants, above all else, to sniff
the effluvium of backwoods-and-sand-hill subhumanity and to see at
least one barn burn at midnight". Obviously, such a Northern tourist's
purpose is somewhat akin to a child's experience with Disneyland:
he <wants> to see a world of make-believe. In the
meantime, while the South has been undergoing this phenomenal modernization
that is so disappointing to the curious Yankee, Southern writers
have certainly done little to reflect and promote their region's
progress. Willard Thorp, in his new book <American Writing in
the Twentieth Century>, observes, quite validly it seems: "**h
Certain subjects are conspicuously absent or have been only lightly touched.
No southern novelist has done for Atlanta or Birmingham what
Herrick, Dreiser, and Farrell did for Chicago or Dos Passos did
for New York **h There are almost no fictional treatments of the
industrialized south". Not a single Southern author, major or minor,
has made the urban problems of an urban South his primary source material.

Faulkner, for one, appears to be safe from the accusing

fingers of all assailants in this regard. Faulkner culminates the
Southern legend perhaps more masterfully than it has ever been, or could
ever be, done. He has made it his, and his it remains, irrevocably.
He treats it with a mythological, universal application. As
his disciples boast, even though his emphasis is elsewhere, Faulkner
does show his awareness of the changing order of the South quite keenly,
as can be proven by a quick recalling of his Sartoris and Snopes
families. Even two decades ago in <Go Down, Moses> Faulkner
was looking to the more urban future with a glimmer of hope that through
its youth and its new way of life the South might be reborn and the
curse of slavery erased from its soil. Yet his concern even here is
with a slowly changing socio-economic order in general, and he never
deals with such specific aspects of this change as the urban and industrial
impact. Faulkner traces, in his vast and overpowering saga
of Yoknapatawpha County, the gradual changes which seep into the
South, building layer upon layer of minute, subtle innovation which eventually
tend largely to hide the Old Way. Thus Faulkner reminds
us, and wisely, that the "new" South has gradually evolved out of
the Old South, and consequently its agrarian roots persist. Yet he
presents a realm of source material which may well serve other writers
if not himself: the problems with which a New South must grapple
in groping through a blind adolescence into the maturity of urbanization.
With new mechanization the modern farmer must perform the work of
six men: a machine stands between the agrarian and his soil. The
thousands of city migrants who desert the farms yearly must readjust with
even greater stress and tension: the sacred wilderness is gradually
surrendering to suburbs and research parks and industrial areas.

Another element to concern the choreographer is that of the visual

devices of the theatre. Most avant-garde creators, true to their
interest in the self-sufficiency of pure movement, have tended to dress
their dancers in simple lines and solid colors (often black) and to
give them a bare cyclorama for a setting. But Robert Rauschenberg,
the neo-dadaist artist, has collaborated with several of them. He has
designed a matching backdrop and costumes of points of color on white
for Mr& Cunningham's <Summerspace>, so that dancers and background
merge into a shimmering unity. For Mr& Taylor's <Images
and Reflections> he made some diaphanous tents that alternately
hide and reveal the performer, and a girl's cape lined with grass. Mr&
Nikolais has made a distinctive contribution to the arts of costume
and decor. In fact, he calls his productions dance-theatre works
of motion, shape, light, and sound. To raise the dancer out of his personal,
pedestrian self, Mr& Nikolais has experimented with relating
him to a larger, environmental orbit. He began with masks to make
the dancer identify himself with the creature he appeared to be. He
went on to use objects- hoops, poles, capes- which he employed as
extensions of the body of the dancer, who moved with them. The depersonalization
continued as the dancer was further metamorphosed by the play
of lights upon his figure. In each case, the object, the color, even
the percussive sounds of the electronic score were designed to become
part of the theatrical being of the performer. The dancer who never
loosens her hold on a parasol, begins to feel that it is part of herself.
Or, clad from head to toe in fabric stretched over a series of
hoops, the performer may well lose his sense of self in being a "finial".
As the dancer is depersonalized, his accouterments are animized,
and the combined elements give birth to a new being. From this being
come new movement ideas that utilize dancer and property as a single
unit. Thus, the avant-garde choreographers have extended the
scope of materials available for dance composition. But, since they
have rejected both narrative and emotional continuity, how are they
to unify the impressive array of materials at their disposal? Some
look deliberately to devices used by creators in the other arts and apply
corresponding methods to their own work. Others, less consciously
but quite probably influenced by the trends of the times, experiment
with approaches that parallel those of the contemporary poet, painter,
and musician. An approach that has appealed to some choreographers
is reminiscent of Charles Olson's statement of the process
of projective verse: "one perception must immediately and directly
lead to a further perception". The creator trusts his intuition to
lead him along a path that has internal validity because it mirrors
the reality of his experience. He disdains external restrictions- conventional
syntax, traditional metre. The unit of form is determined
subjectively: "the Heart, by the way of the Breath, to the Line".
The test of form is fidelity to the experience, a gauge also accepted
by the abstract expressionist painters. An earlier but
still influential school of painting, surrealism, had suggested the way
of dealing with the dream experience, that event in which seemingly
incongruous objects are linked together through the curious associations
of the subconscious. The resulting picture might appear a maze of
restless confusions and contradictions, but it is more true to life than
a portrait of an artificially contrived order. The contemporary painter
tends to depict not the concrete objects of his experience but
their essences as revealed in abstractions of their lines, colors, masses,
and energies. He is still concerned, however, with a personal event.
He accepts the accidents of his brushwork because they provide evidence
of the vitality of the experience of creation. The work must
be true to both the physical and the spiritual character of the experience.

Some painters have less interest in the experience of the

moment, with its attendant urgencies and ambiguities, than in looking
beyond the flux of particular impressions to a higher, more serene level
of truth. Rather than putting their trust in ephemeral sensations
they seek form in the stable relationships of pure design, which symbolize
an order more real than the disorder of the perceptual world. The
concept remains subjective. But in this approach it is the artist's
ultimate insight, rather than his immediate impressions, that gives
form to the work. Others look to more objective devices of
order. The musician employing the serial technique of composition establishes
a mathematical system of rotations that, once set in motion,
determines the sequence of pitches and even of rhythms and intensities.
The composer may reverse or invert the order of his original set of
intervals (or rhythms or dynamic changes). He may even alter the pattern
by applying a scheme of random numbers. But he cannot order his
elements by will, either rational or inspired. The system works as an
impersonal mechanism. Musicians who use the chance method also exclude
subjective control of formal development. Again, the composer must
select his own materials. But a tossing of coins, with perhaps the added
safeguard of reference to the oracles of the <I Ching>, the Chinese
Book of Changes, dictates the handling of the chosen materials.

Avant-garde choreographers, seeking new forms of continuity

for their new vocabulary of movements, have turned to similar approaches.
Some let dances take their form from the experience of creation.
According to Katherine Litz, "the becoming, the process of realization,
is the dance". The process stipulates that the choreographer
sense the quality of the initial movement he has discovered and that
he feel the rightness of the quality that is to follow it. The sequence
may involve a sharp contrast: for example, a quiet meditative sway
of the body succeeded by a violent leap; or it may involve more subtle
distinctions: the sway may be gradually minimized or enlarged,
its rhythmic emphasis may be slightly modified, or it may be transferred
to become a movement of only the arms or the head. Even the least
alteration will change the quality. An exploration of these possible
relationships constitutes the process of creation and thereby gives form
to the dance. The approach to the depiction of the experience
of creation may be analytic, as it is for Miss Litz, or spontaneous,
as it is for Merle Marsicano. She, too, is concerned with "the
becoming, the process of realization", but she does not think in
terms of subtle variations of spatial or temporal patterns. The design
is determined emotionally: "I must reach into myself for the spring
that will send me catapulting recklessly into the chaos of event
with which the dance confronts me". Looking back, Miss Marsicano
feels that her ideas may have been influenced by those of Jackson Pollock.
At one time she felt impelled to make dances that "moved all
over the stage", much as Pollock's paintings move violently over
the full extent of the canvas. But her conscious need was to break away
from constricting patterns of form, a need to let the experience shape
itself. Midi Garth also believes in subjective continuity
that begins with the feeling engendered by an initial movement. It
may be a free front-back swing of the leg, leading to a sideways swing
of the arm that develops into a turn and the sensation of taking off
from the ground. This became a dance called <Prelude to Flight>.
A pervading quality of free lyricism and a building from turns close
to the ground towards jumps into the air gives the work its central focus.

Alwin Nikolais objects to art as an outpouring of personal

emotion. He seeks to make his dancers more "godlike" by relating
them to the impersonal elements of shape, light color, and sound. If
his dancers are sometimes made to look as if they might be creatures
from Mars, this is consistent with his intention of placing them in
the orbit of another world, a world in which they are freed of their
pedestrian identities. It is through the metamorphosed dancer that the
germ of form is discovered. In his recognition of his impersonal self
the dancer moves, and this self, in the "first revealed stroke of
its existence", states the theme from which all else must follow. The
theme may be the formation of a shape from which other shapes evolve.
It may be a reaction to a percussive sound, the following movements
constituting further reactions. It may establish the relation of the
figure of the dancer to light and color, in which case changes in the
light or color will set off a kaleidescope of visual designs. Unconcerned
with the practical function of his actions, the dancer is engrossed
exclusively in their "motional content". Movements unfold freely
because they are uninhibited by emotional bias or purposive drive.
But the metamorphosis must come first. Though he is also concerned
with freeing dance from pedestrian modes of activity, Merce
Cunningham has selected a very different method for achieving his aim.
He rejects all subjectively motivated continuity, any line of action
related to the concept of cause and effect. He bases his approach
on the belief that anything can follow anything. An order can be chanced
rather than chosen, and this approach produces an experience that
is "free and discovered rather than bound and remembered". Thus,
there is freshness not only in the individual movements of the dance
but in the shape of their continuity as well. Chance, he finds, enables
him to create "a world beyond imagination". He cites with pleasure
the comment of a lady, who exclaimed after a concert: "Why,
it's extremely interesting. But I would never have thought of it myself".

The sequence of movements in a Cunningham dance is

unlike any sequence to be seen in life. At one side of the stage a dancer
jumps excitedly; nearby, another sits motionless, while still another
is twirling an umbrella. A man and a girl happen to meet; they
look straight at the audience, not at each other. He lifts her, puts
her down, and walks off, neither pleased nor disturbed, as if nothing
had happened. If one dancer slaps another, the victim may do a pirouette,
sit down, or offer his assailant a fork and spoon. Events occur
without apparent reason. Their consequences are irrelevant- or there
are no consequences at all. The sequence is determined by
chance, and Mr& Cunningham makes use of any one of several chance
devices. He may toss coins; he may take slips of paper from a grab
bag. The answers derived by these means may determine not only the temporal
organization of the dance but also its spatial design, special
slips designating the location on the stage where the movement is to be
performed. The other variables include the dancer who is to perform
the movement and the length of time he is to take in its performance.
The only factors that are personally set by the choreographer are the
movements themselves, the number of the dancers, and the approximate
total duration of the dance. The "approximate" is important, because
even after the order of the work has been established by the chance
method, the result is not inviolable. Each performance may be different.
If a work is divided into several large segments, a last-minute
drawing of random numbers may determine the order of the segments for
any particular performance. And any sequence can not only change its
positions in the work but can even be eliminated from it altogether.

Mr& Cunningham tries not to cheat the chance method; he

adheres to its dictates as faithfully as he can. However, there is always
the possibility that chance will make demands the dancers find impossible
to execute. Then the choreographer must arbitrate. He must
rearrange matters so that two performers do not bump into each other.
He must construct transitions so that a dancer who is told to lie prone
one second and to leap wildly the next will have some physical preparation
for the leap.

THE NORTH AND THE SOUTH were in greater agreement on sovereignty,

through all their dispute about it, than were the Founding Fathers.
The truth in their conflicting concepts was expounded by statesmen
of the calibre of Webster and Calhoun, and defended in the end
by leaders of the nobility of Lincoln and Lee. The people everywhere
had grown meanwhile in devotion to basic democratic principles, in
understanding of and belief in the federal balance, and in love of their
Union. Repeated efforts- beginning with the Missouri Compromise
of 1821- were made by such master moderates as Clay and Douglas
to resolve the difference peacefully by compromise, rather than clear
thought and timely action. Even so, confusion in this period gained
such strength (from compromise and other factors) that it led to the
bloodiest war of the Nineteenth century. Nothing can show more than
this the immensity of the danger to democratic peoples that lies in
even relatively slight deviation from their true concept of sovereignty.

The present issue in Atlantica- whether to transform an

alliance of sovereign nations into a federal union of sovereign citizens-
resembles the American one of 1787-89 rather than the one that
was resolved by Civil War. And so I would only touch upon it now
(much as I have long wanted to write a book about it). I think it is
essential, however, to pinpoint here the difference between the two concepts
of sovereignty that went to war in 1861- if only to see better
how imperative is our need today to clarify completely our far worse
confusion on this subject. The difference came down to this:
The Southern States insisted that the United States was, in last
analysis, what its name implied- a Union of States. To their leaders
the Constitution was a compact made by the people of sovereign
states, who therefore retained the right to secede from it. This right
of the State, its upholders contended, was essential to maintain
the federal balance and protect the liberty of the people from the danger
of centralizing power in the Union government. The champions of
the Union maintained that the Constitution had formed, fundamentally,
the united people of America, that it was a compact among sovereign
citizens rather than states, and that therefore the states had no right
to secede, though the citizens could. Writing to Speed on August
24, 1855, Lincoln made the latter point clear. In homely terms whose
timeliness is startling today, he thus declared his own right to secede.
" We began by declaring that <all men are created equal>.
We now practically read it, <all men are created equal except negroes>.
When the Know-nothings get control, it will read, <All
men
are created equal except negroes> and foreigners and Catholics. When
it comes to this, I shall prefer emigrating to some country where
they make no pretence of loving liberty- to Russia, for instance, where
despotism can be taken pure, without the base alloy of hypocrisy".
[His emphasis] When the Southern States exercised
their "right to secede", they formed what they officially styled "The
Confederate States of America". Dictionaries, as we have
seen, still cite this government, along with the Articles of Confederation
of 1781, as an example of a confederacy. The fact is that the
Southern Confederacy differed from the earlier one almost as much as
the Federal Constitution did. The Confederate Constitution copied
much of the Federal Constitution verbatim, and most of the rest in
substance. It operated on, by and for the people individually just as
did the Federal Constitution. It made substantially the same division
of power between the central and state governments, and among the
executive, legislative and judicial branches.

#THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN

CONFEDERACY AND FEDERAL UNION IN 1861#

Many believe- and understandably-

that the great difference between the Constitution of
the Southern Confederacy and the Federal Constitution was that the
former recognized the right of each state to secede. But though each
of its members had asserted this right against the Union, the final
Constitution which the Confederacy signed on March 11- nearly a month
before hostilities began- included no explicit provision authorizing
a state to secede. Its drafters discussed this vital point but
left it out of their Constitution. Their President, Jefferson Davis,
interpreted their Constitution to mean that it "admits of no coerced
association", but this reremained so doubtful that "there were
frequent demands that the right to secede be put into the Constitution".

The Constitution of the Southern "Confederation"

differed from that of the Federal Union only in two important respects:
It openly, defiantly, recognized slavery- an institution
which the Southerners of 1787, even though they continued it, found so
impossible to reconcile with freedom that they carefully avoided mentioning
the word in the Federal Constitution. They recognized that
slavery was a moral issue and not merely an economic interest, and that
to recognize it explicitly in their Constitution would be in explosive
contradiction to the concept of sovereignty they had set forth in
the Declaration of 1776 that "all men are created equal, that they
are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among
them are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness **h". The
other important difference between the two Constitutions was that the
President of the Confederacy held office for six (instead of four)
years, and was limited to one term. These are not, however, differences
in federal structure. The only important differences from that
standpoint, between the two Constitutions, lies in their Preambles.
The one of 1861 made clear that in making their government the people
were acting through their states, whereas the Preamble of 1787-89
expressed, as clearly as language can, the opposite concept, that they
were acting directly as citizens. Here are the two Preambles: _FEDERAL
CONSTITUTION, 1789_ "we the People of the United States,
in order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure
domestic Tranquility, provide for the common Defence, promote the general
Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and
our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United
States of America". _CONFEDERATE CONSTITUTION, 1861_ "We
the people of the Confederate States, each state acting in its
sovereign and independent character, in order to form a permanent federal
government, establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, and secure
the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity- invoking
the favor and the guidance of Almighty God- do ordain and establish
this Constitution for the Confederate States of America".

One is tempted to say that, on the difference between the concepts

of sovereignty in these two preambles, the worst war of the Nineteenth
century was fought. But though the Southern States, when drafting
a constitution to unite themselves, narrowed the difference to this
fine point by omitting to assert the right to secede, the fact remained
that by seceding from the Union they had already acted on the concept
that it was composed primarily of sovereign states. If the Union
conceded this to them, the same right must be conceded to each remaining
state whenever it saw fit to secede: This would destroy the federal
balance between it and the states, and in the end sacrifice to
the sovereignty of the states all the liberty the citizens had gained
by their Union. Lincoln saw that the act of secession made the
issue for the Union a vital one: Whether it was a Union of sovereign
citizens that should continue to live, or an association of sovereign
states that must fall prey either to "anarchy or despotism".

Much as he abhorred slavery, Lincoln was always willing to

concede to each "slave state" the right to decide independently whether
to continue or end it. Though his election was interpreted by
many Southerners as the forerunner of a dangerous shift in the federal
balance in favor of the Union, Lincoln himself proposed no such change
in the rights the Constitution gave the states. After the war began,
he long refused to permit emancipation of the slaves by Union action
even in the Border States that stayed with the Union. He issued
his Emancipation Proclamation only when he felt that necessity left
him no other way to save the Union. In his Message of December
2, 1862, he put his purpose and his policy in these words- which I
would call the Lincoln Law of Liberty-and-Union: <"In giving
freedom to the slave, we assure freedom to the free">. What
Lincoln could not concede was that the states rather than the people
were sovereign in the Union. He fought to the end to preserve it
as a "government of the people, by the people, for the people".

#THE
TRUTH ON EACH SIDE WON IN THE CIVIL WAR#

The fact that the Americans

who upheld the sovereignty of their states did this in order to
keep many of their people more securely in slavery- the antithesis
of individual liberty- made the conflict grimmer, and the greater.
Out of this ordeal the citizen emerged, in the South as in the North,
as America's true sovereign, in "a new birth of freedom", as
Lincoln promised. But before this came about, 214,938 Americans had
given their lives in battle for the two concepts of the sovereign rights
of men and of states. On their decisive battlefield Lincoln
did not distinguish between them when he paid tribute to the "brave
men, living and dead, who fought here". He understood that both
sides were at fault, and he reached the height of saying so explicitly
in his Second Inaugural. To my knowledge, Lincoln remains
the only Head of State and Commander-in-Chief who, while fighting
a fearful war whose issue was in doubt, proved man enough to say this
publicly- to give his foe the benefit of the fact that in all human
truth there is some error, and in all our error, some truth. So great
a man could not but understand, too, that the thing that moves men to
sacrifice their lives is not the error of their thought, which their
opponents see and attack, but the truth which the latter do not see-
any more than they see the error which mars the truth they themselves
defend. It is much less difficult now than in Lincoln's day
to see that on both sides sovereign Americans had given their lives
in the Civil War to maintain the balance between the powers they had
delegated to the States and to their Union. They differed in the
balance they believed essential to the sovereignty of the citizen-
but the supreme sacrifice each made served to maintain a still more fundamental
truth: That individual life, liberty and happiness depend
on a right balance between the two- and on the limitation of sovereignty,
in all its aspects, which this involves. The 140,414 Americans
who gave "the last full measure of devotion" to prevent disunion,
preserved individual freedom in the United States from the dangers
of anarchy, inherent in confederations, which throughout history have
proved fatal in the end to all associations composed primarily of sovereign
states, and to the liberties of their people. But the fact that
70,524 other Americans gave the same measure of devotion to an opposing
concept served Liberty-and-Union in other essential ways.

Its appeal from ballots to bullets at Fort Sumter ended by costing

the Southerners their right to have slaves- a right that was even
less compatible with the sovereignty of man. The very fact that they
came so near to winning by the wrong method, war, led directly to their
losing both the war and the wrong thing they fought for, since it forced
Lincoln to free their slaves as a military measure. There was
a divine justice in one wrong thus undoing another. There was also a
lesson, one that has served ever since to keep Americans, in their conflicts
with one another, from turning from the ballot to the bullet.
Yet though the Southern States lost the worst errors in their case,
they did not lose the truth they fought for. The lives so many of them
gave, to forestall what they believed would be a fatal encroachment
by the Union on the powers reserved to their states have continued
ever since to safeguard all Americans against freedom's other foe.
As cells coalesced into organisms, they built new "unnatural" and
internally controlled environments to cope even more successfully with
the entropy-increasing properties of the external world. The useful
suggestion of Professor David Hawkins which considers culture as a
third stage in biological evolution fits quite beautifully then with
our suggestion that science has provided us with a rather successful technique
for building protective artificial environments. One wonders
about its applicability to people. Will advances in human sciences help
us build social structures and governments which will enable us to
cope with people as effectively as the primitive combination of protein
and nucleic acid built a structure of molecules which enabled it to
adapt to a sea of molecular interaction? The answer is of course yes.
For the family is the simplest example of just such a unit, composed
of people, which gives us both some immunity from, and a way of dealing
with, other people. Social invention did not have to await social
theory any more than use of the warmth of a fire had to await Lavoisier
or the buoyant protection of a boat the formulations of Archimedes.
But it has been during the last two centuries, during the scientific
revolution, that our independence from the physical environment has
made the most rapid strides. We have ample light when the sun sets;
the temperature of our homes is independent of the seasons; we fly
through the air, although gravity pulls us down; the range of our
voice ignores distance. At what stage are social sciences then? Is
the future of psychology akin to the rich future of physics at the time
of Newton? There is a haunting resemblance between the notion
of cause in Copernicus and in Freud. And it is certainly no slight
to either of them to compare both their achievements and their impact.

Political theoretical understanding, although almost at a standstill

during this century, did develop during the eighteenth and nineteenth
centuries, and resulted in a flood of inventions which increased
the possibility for man to coexist with man. Consitutional government,
popular vote, trial by jury, public education, labor unions, cooperatives,
communes, socialized ownership, world courts, and the veto
power in world councils are but a few examples. Most of these, with
horrible exceptions, were conceived as is a ship, not as an attempt to
quell the ocean of mankind, nor to deny its force, but as a means to
survive and enjoy it. The most effective political inventions seem to
make maximum use of natural harbors and are aware that restraining breakwaters
can play only a minor part in the whole scheme. Just as present
technology had to await the explanations of physics, so one might
expect that social invention will follow growing sociological understanding.
We are desperately in the need of such invention, for man is
still very much at the mercy of man. In fact the accumulation of the
hardware of destruction is day by day increasing our fear of each other.
#/3,#

I want, therefore, to discuss a second and quite different

fruit of science, the connection between scientific understanding
and fear. There are certainly large areas of understanding in the human
sciences which in themselves and even without political invention
can help to dispel our present fears. Lucretius has remarked: "The
reason why all Mortals are so gripped by fear is that they see all
sorts of things happening in the earth and sky with no discernable cause,
and these they attribute to the will of God". Perhaps things
were even worse then. It is difficult to reconstruct the primeval fears
of man. We get some clue from a few remembrances of childhood and
from the circumstance that we are probably not much more afraid of people
now than man ever was. We are not now afraid of atomic bombs in
the same way that people once feared comets. The bombs are as harmless
as an automobile in a garage. We are worried about what people may
do with them- that some crazy fool may "push the button".
I am certainly not adequately trained to describe or enlarge on human
fears, but there are certain features of the fears dispelled by scientific
explanations that stand out quite clearly. They are in general
those fears that once seemed to have been amenable to prayer or ritual.
They include both individual fears and collective ones. They arise
in situations in which one believes that what happens depends not
only on the external world, but also on the precise pattern of behavior
of the individual or group. Often it is recognized that all the details
of the pattern may not be essential to the outcome but, because
the pattern was empirically determined and not developed through theoretical
understanding, one is never quite certain which behavior elements
are effective, and the whole pattern becomes ritualized. Yet often
fear persists because, even with the most rigid ritual, one is never
quite free from the uneasy feeling that one might make some mistake or
that in every previous execution one had been unaware of the really decisive
act. To say that science had reduced many such fears merely reiterates
the obvious and frequent statement that science eliminated much
of magic and superstition. But a somewhat more detailed analysis
of this process may be illuminating. The frequently postulated
antique worry that the daylight hours might dwindle to complete darkness
apparently gave rise to a ritual and celebration which we still recognize.
It is curious that even centuries of repetition of the yearly
cycle did not induce a sufficient degree of confidence to allow people
to abandon the ceremonies of the winter solstice. This and other
fears of the solar system have disappeared gradually, first, with the
Ptolemaic
system and its built-in concept of periodicity and then, more
firmly, with the Newtonian innovation of an universal force that could
account quantitatively for both terrestial and celestial motions.
This understanding provides a very simple example of the fact that one
can eliminate fear without instituting any controls. In fact, although
we have dispelled the fear, we have not necessarily assured ourselves
that there are no dangers. There is still the remote possibility
of planetoid collision. A meteor could fall on San Francisco. Solar
activities could presumably bring long periods of flood or drought.
Our understanding of the solar system has taught us to replace our
former elaborate rituals with the appropriate action which, in this case,
amounts to doing nothing. Yet we no longer feel uneasy. This almost
trivial example is nevertheless suggestive, for there are some elements
in common between the antique fear that the days would get shorter
and shorter and our present fear of war. We, in our country, think
of war as an external threat which, if it occurs, will not be primarily
of our own doing. And yet we obviously also believe that the avoidance
of the disaster depends in some obscure or at least uncertain way
on the details of how we behave. What elements of our behavior are decisive?
Our weapons production, our world prestige, our ideas of democracy,
our actions of trust or stubbornness or secrecy or espionage?
We have staved off a war and, since our behavior has involved all
these elements, we can only keep adding to our ritual without daring
to abandon any part of it, since we have not the slightest notion which
parts are effective. I think that we are here also talking of
the kind of fear that a young boy has for a group of boys who are approaching
at night along the streets of a large city. If an automobile
were approaching him, he would know what was required of him, even though
he might not be able to act quickly enough. With the group of boys
it is different. He does not know whether to look up or look aside,
to put his hands in his pockets or to clench them at his side, to cross
the street, or to continue on the same side. When confronted with
a drunk or an insane person I have no notion of what any one of them
might do to me or to himself or to others. I believe that what I do
has some effect on his actions and I have learned, in a way, to commune
with drunks, but certainly my actions seem to resemble more nearly
the performance of a rain dance than the carrying out of an experiment
in physics. I am usually filled with an uneasiness that through some
unwitting slip all hell may break loose. Our inability to explain
why certain people are fond of us frequently induces the same kind of
ritual and malaise. We are forced, in our behavior towards others, to
adopt empirically successful patterns in toto because we have such a
minimal understanding of their essential elements. Our collective
policies, group and national, are similarly based on voodoo, but
here we often lack even the empirically successful rituals and are still
engaged in determing them. We use terms from our personal experience
with individuals such as "trust", "cheat", and "get tough".
We talk about national character in the same way that Copernicus
talked of the compulsions of celestial bodies to move in circles. We
perform elaborate international exhortations and ceremonies with virtually
no understanding of social cause and effect. Small wonder, then,
that we fear. The achievements which dispelled our fears of
the cosmos took place three centuries ago. What additional roles has
the scientific understanding of the 19th and 20th centuries played?
In the physical sciences, these achievements concern electricity, chemistry,
and atomic physics. In the life sciences, there has been an
enormous increase in our understanding of disease, in the mechanisms of
heredity, and in bio- and physiological chemistry. The major effect
of these advances appears to lie in the part they have played in the
industrial revolution and in the tools which scientific understanding
has given us to build and manipulate a more protective environment. In
addition, our way of dealing directly with natural phenomena has also
changed. Even in domains where detailed and predictive understanding
is still lacking, but where some explanations are possible, as with
lightning and weather and earthquakes, the appropriate kind of human action
has been more adequately indicated. Apparently the population
as a whole eventually acquires enough confidence in the explanations
of the scientists to modify its procedures and its fears. How and
why this process occurs would provide an interesting separate subject
for study. In some areas, the progress is slower than in others. In
agriculture, for example, despite the advances in biology, elaborate
rituals tend to persist along with a continued sense of the imminence
of some natural disaster. In child care, the opposite extreme prevails;
procedures change rapidly and parental confidence probably exceeds
anything warranted by established psychological theory. There are
many domains in which understanding has brought about widespread and quite
appropriate reduction in ritual and fear. Much of the former extreme
uneasiness associated with visions and hallucinations and with death
has disappeared. The persistent horror of having a malformed child
has, I believe, been reduced, not because we have gained any control
over this misfortune, but precisely because we have learned that we
have so little control over it. In fact, the recent warnings about the
use of ~X-rays have introduced fears and ambiguities of action which
now require more detailed understanding, and thus in this instance,
science has momentarily aggravated our fears. In fact, insofar as
science generates any fear, it stems not so much from scientific prowess
and gadgets but from the fact that new unanswered questions arise,
which, until they are understood, create uncertainty. Perhaps
the most illuminating example of the reduction of fear through understanding
is derived from our increased knowledge of the nature of disease.
The situation with regard to our attitude and "control" of disease
contains close analogies to problems confronting us with respect
to people. The fear of disease was formerly very much the kind of fear
I have tried to describe.
##

Nothing like Godot, he arrived before the hour. His letter had
suggested we meet at my hotel at noon on Sunday, and I came into
the lobby as the clock struck twelve. He was waiting. My wish
to meet Samuel Beckett had been prompted by simple curiosity and interest
in his work. American newspaper reviewers like to call his plays
nihilistic. They find deep pessimism in them. Even so astute a commentator
as Harold Clurman of <The Nation> has said that "Waiting
for Godot" is "the concentrate **h of the contemporary European
**h mood of despair". But to me Beckett's writing had seemed
permeated with love for human beings and with a kind of humor that
I could reconcile neither with despair nor with nihilism. Could it
be that my own eyes and ears had deceived me? Is his a literature of
defeat, irrelevant to the social crises we face? Or is it relevant
because it teaches us something useful to know about ourselves?

I knew that a conversation with the author would not settle such
questions, because a man is not the same as his writing: in the last
analysis, the questions had to be settled by the work itself. Nevertheless
I was curious. My curiosity was sharpened a day or two
before the interview by a conversation I had with a well-informed teacher
of literature, a Jesuit father, at a conference on religious
drama near Paris. When Beckett's name came into the discussion,
the priest
grew loud and told me that Beckett "hates life". That,
I thought, is at least one thing I can find out when we meet. ##

Beckett's appearance is rough-hewn Irish. The features of his face

are distinct, but not fine. They look as if they had been sculptured
with an unsharpened chisel. Unruly hair goes straight up from his
forehead, standing so high that the top falls gently over, as if to show
that it really is hair and not bristle. One might say it combines
the man; own pride and humility. For he has the pride that comes of
self-acceptance and the humility, perhaps of the same genesis, not to
impose himself upon another. His light blue eyes, set deep within the
face, are actively and continually looking. He seems, by some unconscious
division of labor, to have given them that one function and no
other, leaving communication to the rest of the face. The mouth frequently
breaks into a disarming smile. The voice is light in timbre, with
a rough edge that corresponds to his visage. The Irish accent is,
as one would expect, combined with slight inflections from the French.
His tweed suit was a baggy gray and green. He wore a brown knit
sports shirt with no tie. We walked down the Rue de L'Arcade,
thence along beside the Madeleine and across to a sidewalk cafe
opposite that church. The conversation that ensued may have been engrossing
but it could hardly be called world-shattering. For one thing,
the world that Beckett sees is already shattered. His talk turns to
what he calls "the mess", or sometimes "this buzzing confusion".
I reconstruct his sentences from notes made immediately after our
conversation. What appears here is shorter than what he actually said
but very close to his own words. "The confusion is not my
invention. We cannot listen to a conversation for five minutes without
being acutely aware of the confusion. It is all around us and our
only chance now is to let it in. The only chance of renovation is to
open our eyes and see the mess. It is not a mess you can make sense of".

I suggested that one must let it in because it is the truth,

but Beckett did not take to the word truth. "What is more
true than anything else? To swim is true, and to sink is true.
One is not more true than the other. One cannot speak anymore of being,
one must speak only of the mess. When Heidegger and Sartre speak
of a contrast between being and existence, they may be right, I don't
know, but their language is too philosophical for me. I am not a
philosopher. One can only speak of what is in front of him, and that
now is simply the mess". Then he began to speak about the tension
in art between the mess and form. Until recently, art has withstood
the pressure of chaotic things. It has held them at bay. It realized
that to admit them was to jeopardize form. "How could the mess
be admitted, because it appears to be the very opposite of form and
therefore destructive of the very thing that art holds itself to be"?
But now we can keep it out no longer, because we have come into a
time when "it invades our experience at every moment. It is there
and it must be allowed in". I granted this might be so, but
found the result to be even more attention to form than was the case previously.
And why not? How, I asked, could chaos be admitted to
chaos? Would not that be the end of thinking and the end of art?
If we look at recent art we find it preoccupied with form. Beckett's
own work is an example. Plays more highly formalized than "Waiting
for Godot", "Endgame", and "Krapp's Last Tape" would
be hard to find. "What I am saying does not mean that there
will henceforth be no form in art. It only means that there will
be new form, and that this form will be of such a type that it admits
the chaos and does not try to say that the chaos is really something
else. The form and the chaos remain separate. The latter is not reduced
to the former. That is why the form itself becomes a preoccupation,
because it exists as a problem separate from the material it accommodates.
To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of
the artist now". Yet, I responded, could not similar things
be said about the art of the past? Is it not characteristic of the
greatest art that it confronts us with something we cannot clarify,
demanding that the viewer respond to it in his own never-predictable
way? What is the history of criticism but the history of men attempting
to make sense of the manifold elements in art that will not allow
themselves to be reduced to a single philosophy or a single aesthetic
theory? Isn't all art ambiguous? "Not this", he said,
and gestured toward the Madeleine. The classical lines of the church
which Napoleon thought of as a Temple of Glory, dominated all
the scene where we sat. The Boulevard de la Madeleine, the Boulevard
Malesherbes, and the Rue Royale ran to it with graceful flattery,
bearing tidings of the Age of Reason. "Not this. This is clear.
This does not allow the mystery to invade us. With classical art,
all is settled. But it is different at Chartres. There is the unexplainable,
and there art raises questions that it does not attempt to
answer". I asked about the battle between life and death in
his plays. Didi and Gogo hover on the edge of suicide; Hamm's
world is death and Clov may or may not get out of it to join the living
child outside. Is this life-death question a part of the chaos?

"Yes. If life and death did not both present themselves to

us, there would be no inscrutability. If there were only darkness, all
would be clear. It is because there is not only darkness but also
light that our situation becomes inexplicable. Take Augustine's doctrine
of grace given and grace withheld: have you pondered the dramatic
qualities in this theology? Two thieves are crucified with Christ,
one saved and the other damned. How can we make sense of this
division? In classical drama, such problems do not arise. The destiny
of Racine's Phedre is sealed from the beginning: she will proceed
into the dark. As she goes, she herself will be illuminated. At
the beginning of the play she has partial illumination and at the end
she has complete illumination, but there has been no question but that
she moves toward the dark. That is the play. Within this notion clarity
is possible, but for us who are neither Greek nor Jansenist there
is not such clarity. The question would also be removed if we believed
in the contrary- total salvation. But where we have both dark
and light we have also the inexplicable. The key word in my plays is
'perhaps'". ##

Given a theological lead, I asked what he

thinks about those who find a religious significance to his plays.

"Well, really there is none at all. I have no religious feeling.

Once I had a religious emotion. It was at my first Communion.
No more. My mother was deeply religious. So was my brother. He knelt
down at his bed as long as he could kneel. My father had none. The
family was Protestant, but for me it was only irksome and I let it
go. My brother and mother got no value from their religion when they
died. At the moment of crisis it had no more depth than an old-school
tie. Irish Catholicism is not attractive, but it is deeper. When
you pass a church on an Irish bus, all the hands flurry in the sign of
the cross. One day the dogs of Ireland will do that too and perhaps
also the pigs". But do the plays deal with the same facets
of experience religion must also deal with? "Yes, for they
deal with distress. Some people object to this in my writing. At a
party an English intellectual- so-called- asked me why I write
always about distress. As if it were perverse to do so! He wanted
to know if my father had beaten me or my mother had run away from home
to give me an unhappy childhood. I told him no, that I had had a very
happy childhood. Then he thought me more perverse than ever. I left
the party as soon as possible and got into a taxi. On the glass partition
between me and the driver were three signs: one asked for help
for the blind, another help for orphans, and the third for relief for
the war refugees. One does not have to look for distress. It is screaming
at you even in the taxis of London". Lunch was over,
and we walked back to the hotel with the light and dark of Paris screaming
at us. ##

The personal quality of Samuel Beckett is similar

to qualities I had found in the plays. He says nothing that compresses
experience within a closed pattern. "Perhaps" stands in
place of commitment. At the same time, he is plainly sympathetic, clearly
friendly. If there were only the mess, all would be clear; but
there is also compassion. As a Christian, I know I do not
stand where Beckett stands, but I do see much of what he sees. As a
writer on the theater, I have paid close attention to the plays. Harold
Clurman is right to say that "Waiting for Godot" is a reflection
(he calls it a distorted reflection) "of the impasse and disarray
of Europe's present politics, ethic, and common way of life".
Yet it is not only Europe the play refers to. "Waiting for Godot"
sells even better in America than in France. The consciousness
it mirrors may have come earlier to Europe than to America, but it
is the consciousness that most "mature" societies arrive at when
their successes in technological and economic systematization propel
them into a time of examining the not-strictly-practical ends of culture.
America is now joining Europe in this "mature" phase of development.
Whether any of us remain in it long will depend on what happens
as a result of the technological and economic revolutions now going
on in the countries of Asia and Africa, and also of course on how long
the cold war remains cold.
Even Hemingway, for all his efforts to formulate a naturalistic morality
in <The Sun Also Rises> and <A Farewell to Arms> never
maintained that sex was all. Hemingway's fiction is supported by a
"moral" backbone and in its search for ultimate meaning hints at
a religious dimension. And D& H& Lawrence, in <Fantasia of the
Unconscious,> protested vehemently against the overestimation of
the sexual motive. Though sex in some form or other enters into all human
activity and it was a good thing that Freud emphasized this aspect
of human nature, it is fantastic to explain everything in terms of
sex. "All is <not> sex", declared Lawrence. Man is not confined
to one outlet for his vital energy. The creative urge, for example,
transcends the body and the self. But for the beat generation
all <is> sex. Nothing is more revealing of the way of life and literary
aspirations of this group than their attitude toward sex. For
the beatnik, like the hipster, is in opposition to a society that is based
on the repression of the sex instinct. He has elevated sex- not
Eros or libido but pure, spontaneous, uninhibited sex- to the rank
of the godhead; it is Astarte, Ishtar, Venus, Yahwe, Dionysus,
Christ, the mysterious and divine orgone energy flowing through the
body of the universe. Jazz is sex, marijuana is a stimulus to sex, the
beat tempo is adjusted to the orgiastic release of the sexual impulse.
Lawrence Lipton, in <The Holy Barbarians,> stresses that for
the beat generation sex is more than a source of pleasure; it is a
mystique, and their private language is rich in the multivalent ambiguities
of sexual reference so that they dwell in a sexualized universe
of discourse. The singular uncompromising force of their revolt against
the cult of restraint is illustrated by their refusal to dance in
a public place. The dance is but a disguised ritual for the expression
of ungratified sexual desire. For this reason, too, their language
is more forthright and earthy. The beatniks crave a sexual experience
in which their whole being participates. It is therefore not
surprising that they resist the lure of marriage and the trap of domesticity,
for like cats they are determined not to tame their sexual energy.
They withdraw to the underground of the slums where they can defy
the precepts of legalized propriety. Unlike the heroes and flappers
of the lost generation, they disdain the art of "necking" and "petting".
That is reserved for the squares. If they avoid the use
of the pungent, outlawed four-letter word it is because it is taboo;
it is sacred. As Lipton, the prophet of the beat generation, declares:
"In the sexual act, the beat are filled with mana, the divine
power. This is far from the vulgar, leering sexuality of the middle-class
square in heat". This is the Holy Grail these knights of
the orgasm pursue, this is the irresistible cosmic urge to which they
respond. If Wilhelm Reich is the Moses who has led them out
of the Egypt of sexual slavery, Dylan Thomas is the poet who offers
them the Dionysian dialectic of justification for their indulgence
in liquor, marijuana, sex, and jazz. In addition, they have been converted
to Zen Buddhism, with its glorification of all that is "natural"
and mysteriously alive, the sense that everything in the world
is flowing. Thus, paradoxically, the beat writers resort to "religious"
metaphors: they are in search of mana, the spiritual, the numinous,
but not anything connected with formal religion. What they are
after is the beatific vision. And Zen Buddhism, though it is extremely
difficult to understand how these internal contradictions are reconciled,
helps them in their struggle to achieve personal salvation through
sexual release. The style of life chosen by the beat generation,
the rhythm and ritual they have adopted as uniquely their own,
is designed to enhance the value of the sexual experience. Jazz is
good not only because it promotes wholeness but because of its decided
sexual effect. Jazz is the musical language of sex, the vocabulary of
the orgasm; indeed, it is maintained that the sexual element in jazz,
by freeing the listener of his inhibitions, can have therapeutic
value. That is why, the argument runs, the squares are so fearful of
jazz and yet perversely fascinated by it. Instead of giving themselves
spontaneously to the orgiastic release that jazz can give them, they
undergo psychoanalysis or flirt with mysticism or turn to prostitutes
for satisfaction. Thus jazz is transmuted into something holy, the
sacred road to integration of being. Jazz, like sex, is a mystique. It
is not a substitute for sex but a dynamic expression of the creative
impulse in unfettered man. The mystique of sex, combined with
marijuana and jazz, is intended to provide a design for living. Those
who are sexually liberated can become creatively alive and free, their
instincts put at the service of the imagination. Righteous in their
denunciation of all that makes for death, the beat prophets bid all
men become cool cats; let them learn to "swing" freely, to let
go, to become authentically themselves, and then perhaps civilization
will be saved. The beatnik, seceding from a society that is fatally
afflicted with a deathward drive, is concerned with his personal salvation
in the living present. If he is the child of nothingness, if he
is the predestined victim of an age of atomic wars, then he will consult
only his own organic needs and go beyond good and evil. He will not
curb his instinctual desires but release the energy within him that
makes him feel truly and fully alive, even if it is only for this brief
moment before the apocalypse of annihilation explodes on earth.

That is why the members of the beat generation proudly assume the
title of the holy barbarians; they will destroy the shrines, temples,
museums, and churches of the state that is the implacable enemy of the
life they believe in. Apart from the categorical imperative they derive
from the metaphysics of the orgasm, the only affirmation they are
capable of making is that art is their only refuge. Their writing,
born of their experiments in marijuana and untrammeled sexuality, reflects
the extremity of their existential alienation. The mind has betrayed
them, reason is the foe of life; they will trust only their physical
sensations, the wisdom of the body, the holy promptings of the unconscious.
With lyrical intensity they reveal what they hate, but their
faith in love, inspired by the revolutionary rhythms of jazz, culminates
in the climax of the orgasm. Their work mirrors the mentality
of the psychopath, rootless and irresponsible. Their rebellion against
authoritarian society is not far removed from the violence of revolt
characteristic of the juvenile delinquent. And the life they
lead is undisciplined and for the most part unproductive, even though
they make a fetish of devoting themselves to some creative pursuit-
writing, painting, music. They are non-conformists on principle. When
they express themselves it is incandescent hatred that shines forth,
the rage of repudiation, the ecstasy of negation. It is sex that obsesses
them, sex that is at the basis of their aesthetic creed. What
they discuss with dialectical seriousness is the degree to which sex can
inspire the Muse. Monogamy is the vice from which the abjectly fearful
middle class continue to suffer, whereas the beatnik has the courage
to break out of that prison of respectability. One girl describes
her past, her succession of broken marriages, the abortions she has
had
and finally confesses that she loves sex and sees no reason why she
must justify her passion. If it is an honest feeling, then why should
she not yield to it? "<Most> often", she says, "it's the
<monogamous> relationship that is <dis>honest". There is nothing
holy in wedlock. This girl soon drops the bourgeois pyschiatrist
who disapproves of her life. She finds married life stifling and every
prolonged sex relationship unbearably monotonous. This confession
serves to make clear in part what is behind this sexual revolution:
the craving for sensation for its own sake, the need for change,
for new experiences. Boredom is death. In the realm of physical sensations,
sex reigns supreme. Hence the beatniks sustain themselves on
marijuana, jazz, free swinging poetry, exhausting themselves in orgies
of sex; some of them are driven over the borderline of sanity and
lose contact with reality. One beat poet composes a poem, "Lines on
a Tijuana John", which contains a few happy hints for survival.
The new fact the initiates of this cult have to learn is that they must
move toward simplicity. The professed mission of this disaffiliated
generation is to find a new way of life which they can express in poetry
and fiction, but what they produce is unfortunately disordered, nourished
solely on the hysteria of negation. Who are the creative
representatives of this movement? Nymphomaniacs, junkies, homosexuals,
drug addicts, lesbians, alcoholics, the weak, the frustrated,
the irresolute, the despairing, the derelicts and outcasts of society.
They embrace independent poverty, usually with a "shack-up" partner
who will help support them. They are full of contempt for the institution
of matrimony. Their previous legalized marriages do not count,
for they hold the laws of the state null and void. They feel they
are leagued against a hostile, persecutory world, faced with the concerted
malevolent opposition of squares and their hirelings, the police.
This is the rhetoric of righteousness the beatniks use in defending
their way of life, their search for wholeness, though their actual existence
fails to reach these "religious" heights. One beatnik got
the woman he was living with so involved in drugs and self-analysis and
all-night sessions of sex that she was beginning to crack up. What
obsessions had she picked up during these long nights of talk? Sex
as the creative principle of the universe, the secret of primitive religion,
the life of myth. Everything in the final analysis reduced itself
to sexual symbolism. In his chapter on "The Loveways of the
Beat Generation", Lipton spares the reader none of the sordid details.
No one asks questions about the free union of the sexes in West
Venice so long as the partners share the negative attitudes of the
group. The women who come to West Venice, having forsaken radicalism,
are interested in living only for the moment, in being constantly
on the move. Others who are attracted to this Mecca of the beat
generation are homosexuals, heroin addicts, and smalltime hoodlums.
Those who are sexual deviants are naturally drawn to join the beatniks.
Since the homosexuals widely use marijuana, they do not have to be
initiated. Part of the ritual of sex is the use of marijuana. As Lipton
puts it: "The Eros is felt in the magic circle of marijuana
with far greater force, as a unifying principle in human relationships,
than at any other time except, perhaps, in the mutual metaphysical
orgasms. The magic circle is, in fact, a symbol of and preparation for
the metaphysical orgasm". Under the influence of marijuana the beatnik
comes alive within and experiences a wonderfully enhanced sense
of self as if he had discovered the open sesame to the universe of being.
Carried high on this "charge", he composes "magical" poetry
that captures the organic rhythms of life in words. If he thus achieves
a lyrical, dreamlike, drugged intensity, he pays the price for his
indulgence by producing work- Allen Ginsberg's "Howl" is
a striking example of this tendency- that is disoriented, Dionysian
but without depth and without Apollonian control. For drugs are in
themselves no royal road to creativity. How is the beat poet to achieve
unity of form when he is at the same time engaged in a systematic
derangement of senses. If love reflects the nature of man, as
Ortega y Gasset believes, if the person in love betrays decisively what
he is by his behavior in love, then the writers of the beat generation
are creating a new literary genre.
_@_ There were fences in the old days when we were children. Across
the front of a yard and down the side, they were iron, either spiked
along the top or arched in half circles. Alley fences were made
of solid boards higher than one's head, but not so high as the golden
glow in a corner or the hollyhocks that grew in a line against them.
Side fences were hidden beneath lilacs and hundred-leaf roses; front
fences were covered with Virginia creeper or trumpet vines or honeysuckle.
Square corner- and gate posts were an open-work pattern of
cast-iron foliage; they were topped by steeples complete in every detail:
high-pitched roof, pinnacle, and narrow gable. On these posts
the gates swung open with a squeak and shut with a metallic clang.

The only extended view possible to anyone less tall than the fences
was that obtained from an upper bough of the apple tree. The primary
quality of that view seems, now, to have been its quietness, but that
cannot at the time have impressed us. What one actually remembers
is its greenness. From high in the tree, the whole block lay within
range of the eye, but the ground was almost nowhere visible. One looked
down on a sea of leaves, a breaking wave of flower. Every path from
back door to barn was covered by a grape-arbor, and every yard had its
fruit trees. In the center of any open space remaining our grandfathers
had planted syringa and sweet-shrub, snowball, rose-of-Sharon and
balm-of-Gilead. From above one could only occasionally catch a glimpse
of life on the floor of this green sea: a neighbor's gingham
skirt flashing into sight for an instant on the path beneath her grape-arbor,
or the movement of hands above a clothesline and the flutter
of garments hung there, half-way down the block. That was one
epoch: the apple-tree epoch. Another had ended before it began. Time
is a queer thing and memory a queerer; the tricks that time plays
with memory and memory with time are queerest of all. From maturity
one looks back at the succession of years, counts them and makes them
many, yet cannot feel <length> in the number, however large. In a
stream that turns a mill-wheel there is a lot of water; the mill-pond
is quiet, its surface dark and shadowed, and there does not seem to
be much water in it. Time in the sum is nothing. And yet- a year to
a child is an eternity, and in the memory that phase of one's being-
a certain mental landscape- will seem to have endured without beginning
and without end. The part of the mind that preserves dates and
events may remonstrate, "It could have been like that for only a
little while"; but true memory does not count nor add: it holds
fast to things that were and they are outside of time. Once,
then- for how many years or how few does not matter- my world was
bound round by fences, when I was too small to reach the apple tree bough,
to twist my knee over it and pull myself up. That world was in
scale with my own smallness. I have no picture in my mind of the garden
as a whole- that I could not see- but certain aspects of certain
corners linger in the memory: wind-blown, frost-bitten, white chrysanthemums
beneath a window, with their brittle brown leaves and their
sharp scent of November; ripe pears lying in long grass, to be turned
over by a dusty-slippered foot, cautiously, lest bees still worked
in the ragged, brown-edged holes; hot-colored verbenas in the corner
between the dining-room wall and the side porch, where we passed on
our way to the pump with the half-gourd tied to it as a cup by my grandmother
for our childish pleasure in drinking from it. It was
mother who planted the verbenas. I think that my grandmother was not
an impassioned gardener: she was too indulgent a lover of dogs and
grandchildren. My great-grandmother, I have been told, made her garden
her great pride; she cherished rare and delicate plants like oleanders
in tubs and wall-flowers and lemon verbenas in pots that had to
be wintered in the cellar; she filled the waste spots of the yard with
common things like the garden heliotrope in a corner by the woodshed,
and the plantain lilies along the west side of the house. These my
grandmother left in their places (they are still there, more persistent
and longer-lived than the generations of man) and planted others like
them, that flourished without careful tending. Three of these only
were protected from us by stern commandment: the roses, whose petals
might not be collected until they had fallen, to be made into perfume
or rose-tea to drink; the peonies, whose tight sticky buds would
be blighted by the laying on of a finger, although they were not apparently
harmed by the ants that crawled over them; and the poppies. I
have more than once sat cross-legged in the grass through a long summer
morning and watched without touching while a poppy bud higher than
my head slowly but visibly pushed off its cap, unfolded, and shook out
like a banner in the sun its flaming vermilion petals. Other flowers
we might gather as we pleased: myrtle and white violets from beneath
the lilacs; the lilacs themselves, that bloomed so prodigally but
for the most part beyond our reach; snowballs; hollyhock blossoms
that,
turned upside down, make pink-petticoated ladies; and the little,
dark blue larkspur that scattered its seed everywhere. More
potent a charm to bring back that time of life than this record of a
few pictures and a few remembered facts would be a catalogue of the minutiae
which are of the very stuff of the mind, intrinsic, because they
were known in the beginning not by the eye alone but by the hand that
held them. Flowers, stones, and small creatures, living and dead. Pale
yellow snapdragons that by pinching could be made to bite; seed-pods
of the balsams that snapped like fire-crackers at a touch; red-and-yellow
columbines whose round-tipped spurs were picked off and
eaten
for the honey in them; morning-glory buds which could be so grasped
and squeezed that they burst like a blown-up paper bag; bright flowers
from the trumpet vine that made "gloves" on the ends of ten
waggling fingers. Fuzzy caterpillars, snails with their sensitive horns,
struggling grasshoppers held by their long hind legs and commanded
to "spit tobacco, spit". Dead fledgling birds, their squashed-looking
nakedness and the odor of decay that clung to the hand when they
had been buried in our graveyard in front of the purple flags. And
the
cast shell of a locust, straw-colored and transparent, weighing nothing,
fragile but entire, with eyes like bubbles and a gaping slit down
its back. Every morning early, in the summer, we searched the trunks
of the trees as high as we could reach for the locust shells, carefully
detached their hooked claws from the bark where they hung, and stabled
them, a weird faery herd, in an angle between the high roots of the
tulip tree, where no grass grew in the dense shade **h. We collected
"lucky stones"- all the creamy translucent pebbles, worn smooth
and round, that we could find in the driveway. When these had been
pocketed, we could still spend a morning cracking open other pebbles
for our delight in seeing how much prettier they were inside than their
dull exteriors indicated. We showed them to each other and said "Would
you have guessed **h"? Squatting on our haunches beside the
flat stone we broke them on, we were safe behind the high closed gates
at the end of the drive: safe from interruption and the observation
and possible amusement of the passers-by. Thus shielded, we played
many foolish games in comfortable unselfconsciousness; even when the
fences became a part of the game- when a vine-embowered gate-post
was the Sleeping Beauty's enchanted castle, or when Rapunzel let
down her golden hair from beneath the crocketed spire, even then we paid
little heed to those who went by on the path outside. We enjoyed
a paradoxical freedom when we were still too young for school. In
the heat of the summer, the garden solitudes were ours alone; our
elders stayed in the dark house or sat fanning on the front porch. They
never troubled themselves about us while we were playing, because
the fence formed such a definite boundary and "Don't go outside
the gate" was a command so impossible of misinterpretation. We were
not, however, entirely unacquainted with the varying aspects of the street.
We were forbidden to swing on the gates, lest they sag on their
hinges in a poor-white-trash way, but we could stand on them, when they
were latched, rest our chins on the top, and stare and stare, committing
to memory, quite unintentionally, all the details that lay before
our eyes. The street that is full now of traffic and parked
cars then and for many years drowsed on an August afternoon in the shade
of the curbside trees, and silence was a weight, almost palpable,
in the air. Every slight sound that rose against that pressure fell
away again, crushed beneath it. A hay-wagon moved slowly along the gutter,
the top of it swept by the low boughs of the maple trees, and loose
straws were left hanging tangled among the leaves. A wheel squeaked
on a hub, was still, and squeaked again. If a child watched its progress
he whispered, "Hay, hay, load of hay- make a wish and turn
away", and then stared rigidly in the opposite direction until the
sound of the horses' feet returned no more. When the hay wagon had
gone, and an interval passed, a huckster's cart might turn the corner.
The horse walked, the reins were slack, the huckster rode with bowed
shoulders, his forearms across his knees. Sleepily, as if half-reluctant
to break the silence, he lifted his voice: "Rhu-beb-ni-ice
fresh rhu-<beb> today"! The lazy sing-song was spaced in time
like the drone of a bumble-bee. No one seemed to hear him, no one heeded.
The horse plodded on, and he repeated his call. It became so monotonous
as to seem a part of the quietness. After his passage, the street
was empty again. The sun moved slant-wise across the sky and down;
the trees' shadows circled from street to sidewalk, from sidewalk
to lawn. At four-o'clock, or four-thirty, the coming of the newsboy
marked the end of the day; he tossed a paper toward every front
door, and housewives came down to their steps to pick them up and read
what their neighbors had been doing. The streets of any county
town were like this on any sunshiny afternoon in summer; they were
like this fifty-odd years ago, and yesterday. But the fences were still
in place fifty-odd years ago, and when we stood on the gate to look
over, the sidewalk under our eyes was not cement but two rows of paving
stones with grass between and on both sides. The curb was a line
of stone laid edgewise in the dirt and tilted this way and that by frost
in the ground or the roots of trees. Opposite every gate was a hitching
post or a stone carriage-step, set with a rusty iron ring for tying
a horse. The street was unpaved and rose steeply toward the center;
it was mud in wet weather and dust, ankle-deep, in dry, and could
be crossed only at the corner where there were stepping stones. It had
a bucolic atmosphere that it has lost long since. The hoofmarks of
cattle and the prints of bare feet in the mud or in the dust were as
numerous as the traces of shod horses. Cows were kept in backyard barns,
boys were hired to drive them to and from the pasture on the edge
of town, and familiar to the ear, morning and evening, were the boys'
coaxing voices, the thud of hooves, and the thwack of a stick on cowhide.

It is worth dwelling in some detail on the crisis of this story,

because it brings together a number of characteristic elements and
makes of them a curious, riddling compound obscurely but centrally significant
for Mann's work. The wife, Amra, and her lover are
both savagely portrayed, she as incarnate sensuality, "voluptuous"
and "indolent", possibly "a mischief maker", with "a kind
of luxurious cunning" to set against her apparent simplicity, her "birdlike
brain". La^utner, for his part, "belonged to the present-day
race of small artists, who do not demand the utmost of themselves",
and the bitter description of the type includes such epithets
as "wretched little poseurs", the devastating indictment "they
do not know how to be wretched decently and in order", and the somewhat
extreme prophecy, so far not fulfilled: "They will be destroyed".

The trick these two play upon Jacoby reveals their want
not simply of decency but of imagination as well. His appearance as
Lizzy evokes not amusement but horror in the audience; it is a spectacle
absolutely painful, an epiphany of the suffering flesh unredeemed
by spirit, untouched by any spirit other than abasement and humiliation.
At the same time the multiple transvestitism involved- the fat
man as girl and as baby, as coquette pretending to be a baby- touches
for a moment horrifyingly upon the secret sources of a life like Jacoby's,
upon the sinister dreams which form the sources of any human
life. The music which La^utner has composed for this episode
is for the most part "rather pretty and perfectly banal". But
it is characteristic of him, we are told, "his little artifice",
to be able to introduce "into a fairly vulgar and humorous piece of
hackwork a sudden phrase of genuine creative art". And this occurs
now, at the refrain of Jacoby's song- at the point, in fact, of
the name "Lizzy"-; a modulation described as "almost a stroke
of genius". "A miracle, a revelation, it was like a curtain suddenly
torn away to reveal something nude". It is this modulation
which reveals to Jacoby his own frightful abjection and, simultaneously,
his wife's infidelity. By the same means he perceives this fact
as having communicated itself to the audience; he collapses, and dies.

In the work of every artist, I suppose, there may be found

one or more moments which strike the student as absolutely decisive,
ultimately emblematic of what it is all about; not less strikingly
so for being mysterious, as though some deeply hidden constatation of
thoughts were enciphered in a single image, a single moment. So here.
The horrifying humor, the specifically sexual embarrassment of the joke
gone wrong, the monstrous image of the fat man dressed up as a whore
dressing up as a baby; the epiphany of that quivering flesh; the
bringing together around it of the secret liaison between indolent,
mindless sensuality and sharp, shrewd talent, cleverness with an occasional
touch of genius (which, however, does not know "how to attack
the problem of suffering"); the miraculous way in which music, revelation
and death are associated in a single instant- all this seems
a triumph of art, a rather desperate art, in itself; beyond itself,
also,
it evokes numerous and distant resonances from the entire body of Mann's
work. When I try to work out my reasons for feeling that
this passage is of critical significance, I come up with the following
ideas, which I shall express very briefly here and revert to in
a later essay. Love is the crucial dilemma of experience for Mann's
heroes. The dramatic construction of his stories characteristically
turns on a situation in which someone is simultaneously compelled
and forbidden to love. The release, the freedom, involved in loving
another is either terribly difficult or else absolutely impossible;
and the motion toward it brings disaster. This prohibition
on love has an especially poignant relation to art; it is particularly
the artist (Tonio Kro^ger, Aschenbach, Leverku^hn) who suffers
from it. The specific analogy to the dilemma of love is the problem
of the "breakthrough" in the realm of art. Again, the sufferings
and disasters produced by any transgression against the commandment
not to love are almost invariably associated in one way or another
with childhood, with the figure of a child. Finally, the
theatrical (and perversely erotic) notions of dressing up, cosmetics,
disguise, and especially change of costume (or singularity of costume,
as with Cipolla), are characteristically associated with the catastrophes
of Mann's stories. We shall return to these statements
and deal with them more fully as the evidence for them accumulates.
For the present it is enough to note that in the grotesque figure of
Jacoby, at the moment of his collapse, all these elements come together
in prophetic parody. Professionally a lawyer, that is to say associated
with dignity, reserve, discipline, with much that is essentially
middle-class, he is compelled by an impossible love to exhibit himself
dressed up, disguised- that is, paradoxically, revealed- as a
child, and, worse, as a whore masquerading as a child. That this abandonment
takes place on a stage, during an 'artistic' performance,
is enough to associate Jacoby with art, and to bring down upon him the
punishment for art; that is, he is suspect, guilty, punishable, as
is anyone in Mann's stories who produces <illusion>, and this is
true even though the constant elements of the artist-nature, technique,
magic, guilt and suffering, are divided in this story between Jacoby
and La^utner. It appears that the dominant tendency of
Mann's early tales, however pictorial or even picturesque the surface,
is already toward the symbolic, the emblematic, the expressionistic.
In a certain perfectly definite way, the method and the theme of his
stories are one and the same. Something of this can be learned
from "The Way to the Churchyard" (1901), an anecdote about
an old failure whose fit of anger at a passing cyclist causes him to die
of a stroke or seizure. There is no more "plot" than that; only
slightly more, perhaps, than a newspaper account of such an incident
would give. The artistic interest, then, lies in what the encounter
may be made to represent, in the power of some central significance
to draw the details into relevance and meaningfulness. The first
sentence, with its platitudinous irony, announces an emblematic intent:
"The way to the churchyard ran along beside the highroad, ran
beside it all the way to the end; that is to say, to the churchyard".
And the action is consistently presented with regard for this distinction.
The highroad, one might say at first, belongs to life, while
the way to the churchyard belongs to death. But that is too simple,
and won't hold up. As the first sentence suggests, both roads belong
to death in the end. But the highroad, according to the description
of its traffic, belongs to life as it is lived in unawareness of death,
while the way to the churchyard belongs to some other sort of life:
a suffering form, an existence wholly comprised in the awareness
of death. Thus, on the highroad, a troop of soldiers "marched in their
own dust and sang", while on the footpath one man walks alone.

This man's isolation is not merely momentary, it is permanent.

He is a widower, his three children are dead, he has no one left on
earth; also he is a drunk, and has lost his job on that account. His
name is Praisegod Piepsam, and he is rather fully described as to
his clothing and physiognomy in a way which relates him to a sinister
type in the author's repertory- he is a forerunner of those enigmatic
strangers in "Death in Venice", for example, who represent
some combination of cadaver, exotic, and psychopomp. This strange
person quarrels with a cyclist because the latter is using the path
rather than the highroad. The cyclist, a sufficiently commonplace
young fellow, is not named but identified simply as "Life"- that
and a license number, which Piepsam uses in addressing him. "Life"
points out that "everybody uses this path", and starts to ride
on. Piepsam tries to stop him by force, receives a push in the chest
from "Life", and is left standing in impotent and growing rage,
while a crowd begins to gather. His rage assumes a religious form;
that is, on the basis of his own sinfulness and abject wretchedness,
Piepsam becomes a prophet who in his ecstasy and in the name of God
imprecates doom on Life- not only the cyclist now, but the audience,
the world, as well: "all you light-headed breed". This passion
brings on a fit which proves fatal. Then an ambulance comes along,
and they drive Praisegod Piepsam away. This is simple enough,
but several more points of interest may be mentioned as relevant. The
season, between spring and summer, belongs to life in its carefree
aspect. Piepsam's fatal rage arises not only because <he> cannot
stop the cyclist, but also because God will not stop him; as Piepsam
says to the crowd in his last moments: "His justice is not of
this world". Life is further characterized, in antithesis to
Piepsam, as animal: the image of a dog, which appears at several
places, is first given as the criterion of amiable, irrelevant interest
aroused by life considered simply as a spectacle: a dog in a wagon
is "admirable", "a pleasure to contemplate"; another wagon
has no dog, and therefore is "devoid of interest". Piepsam calls
the cyclist "cur" and "puppy" among other things, and at the crisis
of his fit a little fox-terrier stands before him and howls into
his face. The ambulance is drawn by two "charming" little horses.

Piepsam is not, certainly, religious in any conventional sense.

His religiousness is intimately, or dialectically, connected with
his sinfulness; the two may in fact be identical. His unsuccessful
strivings to give up drink are represented as religious strivings;
he keeps a bottle in a wardrobe at home, and "before this wardrobe Praisegod
Piepsam had before now gone literally on his knees, and in
his wrestlings had bitten his tongue- and still in the end capitulated".

The cyclist, by contrast, blond and blue-eyed, is simply

unreflective, unproblematic Life, "blithe and carefree". "He
made no claims to belong to the great and mighty of this earth".

Piepsam is grotesque, a disturbing parody; his end is ridiculous

and trivial. He is "a man raving mad on the way to the churchyard".
But he is more interesting than the others, the ones who come from
the highroad to watch him, more interesting than Life considered
as a cyclist. And if I have gone into so much detail about so small
a work, that is because it is also so typical a work, representing the
germinal form of a conflict which remains essential in Mann's writing:
the crude sketch of Piepsam contains, in its critical, destructive
and self-destructive tendencies, much that is enlarged and illuminated
in the figures of, for instance, Naphta and Leverku^hn.

In method as well as in theme this little anecdote with its details

selected as much for expressiveness and allegory as for "realism",
anticipates a kind of musical composition, as well as a kind of fictional
composition, in which, as Leverku^hn says, "there shall be
nothing unthematic". It resembles, too, pictures such as Du^rer
and Bruegel did, in which all that looks at first to be solely pictorial
proves on inspection to be also literary, the representation of a
proverb, for example, or a deadly sin. "Gladius Dei" (1902)
resembles "The Way to the Churchyard" in its representation
of a conflict between light and dark, between "Life" and a spirit
of criticism, negation, melancholy, but it goes considerably further
in characterizing the elements of this conflict. The monk Savonarola,
brought over from the Renaissance and placed against the background
of Munich at the turn of the century, protests against the luxurious
works displayed in the art-shop of M& Bluthenzweig; in
particular against a Madonna portrayed in a voluptuous style and modeled,
according to gossip, upon the painter's mistress. Hieronymus,
like Piepsam, makes his protest quite in vain, and his rejection, though
not fatal, is ridiculous and humiliating; he is simply thrown out
of the shop by the porter. On the street outside, Hieronymus envisions
a holocaust of the vanities of this world, such a burning of artistic
and erotic productions as his namesake actually brought to pass in
Florence, and prophetically he issues his curse: "<Gladius Dei
super terram cito et velociter>".
The "reality" to which they respond is rationally empty and their
art is an imitation of the inescapable powerfulness of this unknown and
empty world. Their artistic rationale is given to the witness of unreason.

These polar concerns (imitation vs& formalism) reflect

a philosophical and religious situation which has been developing
over a long period of time. The breakdown of classical structures of
meaning in all realms of western culture has given rise to several generations
of artists who have documented the disintegrative processes.
Thus the image of man has suffered complete fragmentation in personal
and spiritual qualities, and complete objectification in sub-human and
quasi-mechanistic powers. The image of the world tends to reflect the
hostility and indifference of man or else to dissolve into empty spaces
and overwhelming mystery. The image of God has simply disappeared.
All such imitations of negative quality have given rise to a compensatory
response in the form of a heroic and highly individualistic humanism:
if man can neither know nor love reality as it is, he can at
least invent an artistic "reality" which is its own world and which
can speak to man of purely personal and subjective qualities capable
of being known and worthy of being loved. The person of the artist
becomes a final bastion of meaning in a world rendered meaningless by
the march of events and the decay of classical religious and philosophical
systems. Whatever pole of this contrast one emphasizes and
whatever the tension between these two approaches to understanding
the artistic imagination, it will be readily seen that they are not mutually
exclusive, that they belong together. Without the decay of a
sense of objective reference (except as the imitation of mystery), the
stress on subjective invention would never have been stimulated into
being. And although these insights into the nature of art may be in themselves
insufficient for a thoroughgoing philosophy of art, their peculiar
authenticity in this day and age requires that they be taken seriously
and gives promise that from their very substance, new and valid
chapters in the philosophy of art may be written. For better or worse
we cannot regard "imitation" in the arts in the simple mode of
classical rationalism or detached realism. A broader concept of imitation
is needed, one which acknowledges that true invention is important,
that the artist's creativity in part transcends the non-artistic
causal factors out of which it arises. On the other hand, we cannot regard
artistic invention as pure, uncaused, and unrelated to the times
in which it occurs. We need a doctrine of imitation to save us from
the solipsism and futility of pure formalism. Accordingly, it is the
aim of this essay to advance a new theory of imitation (which I shall
call <mimesis> in order to distinguish it from earlier theories of
imitation) and a new theory of invention (which I shall call <symbol>
for reasons to be stated hereafter).

#THE MIMETIC IMAGINATION IN

THE ARTS#

The word "mimesis" ("imitation") is usually associated

with Plato and Aristotle. For Plato, "imitation" is twice
removed from reality, being a poor copy of physical appearance, which
in itself is a poor copy of ideal essence. All artistic and mythological
representations, therefore, are "imitations of imitations" and
are completely superseded by the truth value of "dialectic", the
proper use of the inquiring intellect. In Plato's judgment, the
arts play a meaningful role in society only in the education of the young,
prior to the full development of their intellectual powers. Presupposed
in Plato's system is a doctrine of levels of insight, in which
a certain kind of detached understanding is alone capable of penetrating
to the most sublime wisdom. Aristotle also tended to stratify all
aspects of human nature and activity into levels of excellence and,
like Plato, he put the pure and unimpassioned intellect on the top level.
The <Poetics>, in affirming that all human arts are "modes
of imitation", gives a more serious role to artistic mimesis than
did Plato. But Aristotle kept the principle of levels and even augmented
it by describing in the <Poetics> what kinds of character and
action must be imitated if the play is to be a vehicle of serious and
important human truths. For both Plato and Aristotle artistic mimesis,
in contrast to the power of dialectic, is relatively incapable of
expressing the character of fundamental reality. The central
concern of Erich Auerbach's impressive volume called <Mimesis>
is to describe the shift from a classic theory of imitation (based upon
a recognition of levels of truth) to a Christian theory of imitation
in which the levels are dissolved. Following the theme of Incarnation
in the Gospels, the Christian artist and critic sees in the most
commonplace and ordinary events "figures" of divine power and reality.
Here artistic realism involves the audience in an impassioned participation
in events whose overtones and implications are transcendent.
Artistic mimesis under Christian influence records the involvement
of all persons, however humble, in a divine drama. The artist, unlike
the philosopher, is not a removed observer aiming at neutral and rarified
high levels of abstraction. He is the conveyor of a sacred reality
by which he has been grasped. I have chosen to use the word "mimesis"
in its Christian rather than its classic implications and
to discover in the concrete forms of both art and myth powers of theological
expression which, as in the Christian mind, are the direct consequence
of involvement in historical experience, which are not reserved,
as in the Greek mind, only to moments of theoretical reflection.

In the first instance, "mimesis" is here used to mean the

recalling of experience in terms of vivid images rather than in terms
of abstract ideas or conventional designations. By "image" is meant
not only a visual presentation, but also remembered sensations of any
of the five senses plus the feelings which are immediately conjoined
therewith. This is the primary function of the imagination operating
in the absence of the original experiential stimulus by which the images
were first appropriated. Mimesis is the nearest possible thing to
the actual re-living of experience, in which the imagining person recovers
through images something of the force and depth characteristic
of experience itself. The images themselves, like their counterparts
in experience, are not neutral qualities to be surveyed dispassionately;
they are fields of force exerting a unique influence on the sensibilities
and a unique relatedness to one another. They bring an inextricable
component of value within themselves, with attractions and repulsions
native to their own quality. As in experience one is seized by
given entities and their interrelations and is forced to respond in
value feelings to them, so one is similarly seized in the mimetic presentation
of images. Mimesis here is not to be confused with literalism
or realism in the conventional sense. A word taken in its dictionary
meaning, a photographic image of a recognizable object, the mere picturing
of a "scene" tends to lose experiential vividness and to connote
such conventional abstractions as to invite neutral reception without
the incitement of value feelings. Similarly experience itself can
be conventionalized so that people react to certain preconceived clues
for behavior without awareness of the vitality of their experiential
field. A truly vivid imagination moves beyond the conventional recollection
to a sense of immediacy. The mimetic character of the
imaginative consciousness tends to express itself in the presentation
of artistic forms and materials. When words can be used in a more fresh
and primitive way so that they strike with the force of sights and
sounds, when tones of sound and colors of paint and the carven shape
all strike the sensibilities with an undeniable force of data in and of
themselves, compelling the observer into an attitude of attention, all
this imitates the way experience itself in its deepest character strikes
upon the door of consciousness and clamors for entrance. These
are like the initial ways in which the world forces itself upon the self
and thrusts the self into decision and choice. The presence of genuine
mimesis in art is marked by the persistence with which the work
demands attention and compels valuation even though it is but vaguely
understood. Underlying these conceptions of mimesis are certain
presuppositions concerning the nature of primary human experience which
require some exposition before the main argument can proceed. Experience
is not seen, as it is in classical rationalism, as presenting
us initially with clear and distinct objects simply located in space
and
registering their character, movements, and changes on the <tabula
rasa> of an uninvolved intellect. Neither is primary experience understood
according to the attitude of modern empiricism in which nothing
is thought to be received other than signals of sensory qualities producing
their responses in the appropriate sense organs. Primary feelings
of the world come neither as a collection of clearly known objects
(houses, trees, implements, etc&) nor a collection of isolated and
neutral sensory qualities. In contrast to all this, primary data are
data of a self involved in environing processes and powers. The
most primitive feelings are rudimentary value feelings, both positive
and negative: a desire to appropriate this or that part of the environment
into oneself; a desire to avoid and repel this or that other
part. These desires presuppose a sense of causally efficacious powers
in which one is involved, some working for one's good, others threatening
ill. Gone is the <tabula rasa> of the mind. In its place
is a passionate consciousness grasped and molded to feelings of positive
or negative values even as the actions of one's life are determined
by constellations of process in which one is caught. The principal
defender of this view of primary experience as "causal efficacy"
is Alfred North Whitehead. Our most elemental and unavoidable
impressions, he says, are those of being involved in a large arena of
powers which have a longer past than our own, which are interrelated
in a vast movement through the present toward the future. We feel the
quality of these powers initially as in some degree wholesome or threatening.
Later abstractive and rational processes may indicate errors
of judgment in these apprehensions of value, but the apprehensions themselves
are the primary stuff of experience. It takes a great deal
of abstraction to free oneself from the primitive impression of larger
unities of power and influence and to view one's world simply as a
collection of sense data arranged in such and such sequence and pattern,
devoid of all power to move the feelings and actions except in so far
as they present themselves for inspection. Whitehead is here questioning
David Hume's understanding of the nature of experience; he
is questioning, also, every epistemology which stems from Hume's
presupposition
that experience is merely sense data in abstraction from
causal efficacy, and that causal efficacy is something intellectually
imputed to the world, not directly perceived. What Hume calls "sensation"
is what Whitehead calls "perception in the mode of presentational
immediacy" which is a sophisticated abstraction from perception
in the mode of causal efficacy. As long as perception is seen as
composed only of isolated sense data, most of the quality and interconnectedness
of existence loses its objectivity, becomes an invention
of consciousness, and the result is a philosophical scepticism. Whitehead
contends that the human way of understanding existence as a unity
of interlocking and interdependent processes which constitute each other
and which cause each other to be and not to be is possible only because
the basic form of such an understanding, for all its vagueness and
tendency to mistake the detail, is initially <given> in the way man
feels the world. In this respect experience is broader and full of
a richer variety of potential meanings than the mind of man or any of
his arts or culture are capable of making clear and distinct.
A chief characteristic of experience in the mode of causal efficacy is
one of derivation from the past. Both I and my feelings come up out
of a chain of events that fan out into the past into sources that are
ultimately very unlike the entity which I now am.
After only eighteen years of non-interference, there were already indications
of melioration, though "in a slight degree", to be sure.

There were more indications by the mid-twentieth century. I leave

it to the statisticians to say what they were, but I noticed several
a few years ago, during an automobile ride from Memphis to Hattiesburg.
In town after town my companion pointed out the Negro school
and the White school, and in every instance the former made a better
appearance (it was newer, for one thing). It really looked as if a
change of the sort predicted by Booker T& Washington had been going
on. But with the renewal of interference in 1954 (as with its beginning
in 1835), the improvement was impaired. For over a hundred
years Southerners have felt that the North was picking on them.
It's infuriating, this feeling that one is being picked on, continually,
constantly. By what right of superior virtue, Southerners ask,
do the people of the North do this? The traditional strategy of the
South has been to expose the vices of the North, to demonstrate that
the North possessed no superior virtue, to "show the world that"
(as James's Christopher Newman said to <his> adversaries) "however
bad I may be, you're not quite the people to say it".

In the pre-Civil War years, the South argued that the slave was
not less humanely treated than the factory worker of the North. At
the present time, the counter-attack takes the line that there's no
more of the true <spirit> of "integration" in the North than
in the South. The line is a pretty good one. People talk about
"the law of the land". The expression has become quite a cliche.
But people can't be made to integrate, socialize (the two are inseparable
by Southern standards) by law. I was having lunch not
long ago (apologies to N& V& Peale) with three distinguished
historians (one specializing in the European Middle Ages, one in American
history, and one in the Far East), and I asked them if they
could name instances where the general mores had been radically changed
with "deliberate speed, majestic instancy" (Francis Thompson's
words for the Hound of <Heaven's> pursuit) by judicial fiat.
They didn't seem to be able to think of any. A Virginia
judge a while back cited a Roman jurist to the effect that ten years
might be a reasonable length of time for such a change. But I suspect
that the old Roman was referring to change made under military occupation-
the sort of change which Tacitus was talking about when he
said, "They make a desert, and call it peace" ("Solitudinem faciunt,
pacem appellant".).

Moreover, the law of the land is not

irrevocable; it can be changed; it has been, many times. Mr&
Justice Taney's Dred Scott decision in 1857 was unpopular in the
North, and soon became a dead letter. Prohibition was the law of the
land, but it was unpopular (how many of us oldsters took up drinking
in prohibition days, drinking was so gay, so fashionable, especially
in the sophisticated Northeast!) and was repealed. The cliche loses
its talismanic virtue in the light of a little history. The
Declaration of Independence says that "governments derive their
just powers from the consent of the governed". The phrase "consent
of the governed" needs a hard look. How do we define it? Is the
consent of the governed a numerical majority? Calhoun dealt with
this question in his "Disquisition on Government". To guard
against the tyranny of a numerical majority, Calhoun developed his
theory of "concurrent majority", which, he said, "by giving to
each portion of the community which may be unequally affected by the
action of government, a negative on the others, prevents all partial
or local legislation". Who will say that our country is even now a
homogeneous community? that regional peculiarities do not still exist?
that the Court order does not unequally affect the Southern region?
Who will deny that in a vast portion of the South the Federal
action is incompatible with the Jeffersonian concept of "the consent
of the governed"? Circumstances alter cases. A friend
of mine in New Mexico said the Court order had caused no particular
trouble out there, that all had gone as merry as a marriage bell. He
seemed a little surprised that it should have caused any particular
trouble anywhere. I murmured something about a possible difference between
New Mexico's history and Mississippi's. One can meet
with aloofness almost anywhere: the Thank-Heaven-We're-not-Involved
viewpoint, It Doesn't Affect Us! Southern Liberals
(there are a good many)- especially if they're rich- often exhibit
blithe insouciance. The trouble here is that it's almost too easy
to take the high moral ground when it doesn't cost you anything.
You've already sent your daughter to Miss ~X's select academy
for girls and your son to Mr& ~Y's select academy for boys, and
you can be as liberal as you please with strict impunity. If there's
no suitable academy in your own neighborhood, there's always New
England. New England academies welcome fugitives from the provinces,
South as well as West. They may even enroll a colored student
or two for show, though he usually turns out to be from Thailand, or
any place other than the American South. It would be interesting to
know how much "integration" there is in the famous, fashionable colleges
and prep schools of New England. A recent newspaper report
said there were five Negroes in the 1960 graduating class of nearly one
thousand at Yale; that is, about one-half of one per cent, which
looks pretty "tokenish" to me, especially in an institution which
professes to be "national". I must confess that I prefer
the Liberal who is personally affected, who is willing to send his own
children to a mixed school as proof of his faith. I leave out of account
the question of the best interests of the children, the question
of what their best interests really are. I'm talking about the grand
manner of the Liberal- North <and> South- who is not affected
personally. If these people were denied a voice (do they have a
moral right to a voice?), what voices would be left? Who is involved
<willy nilly?> Well, after everybody has followed the New England
pattern of segregating one's children into private schools,
only the poor folks are left. And it is precisely in this poorer economic
class that one finds, and has always found, the most racial friction.
##

A dear, respected friend of mine, who like myself grew up

in the South and has spent many years in New England, said to me
not long ago: "I can't forgive New England for rejecting
all complicity". Being a teacher of American literature, I remembered
Whittier's "Massachusetts to Virginia", where he said:
"But that one dark loathsome burden ye must stagger with alone,
And reap the bitter harvest which ye yourselves have sown". There
is a legend (Hawthorne records it in his "English Notebooks". and
one finds it again in Thomas Nelson Page) to the effect that the
<Mayflower>
on its second voyage brought a cargo of Negro slaves. Whether
historically a fact or not, the legend has a certain symbolic value.

<Complicity> is an embarrassing word. It is something

which most of us try to get out from under. Like the cowboy in Stephen
Crane's "Blue Hotel", we run around crying, "Well, I
didn't do anything, did I"? Robert Penn Warren puts it this
way in "Brother to Dragons": "The recognition of complicity
is the beginning of innocence", where innocence, I think, means
about the same thing as redemption. A man must be able to say, "Father,
I have sinned",
or there is no hope for him. Lincoln understood
this better than most when he said in his "Second Inaugural"
that God "gives to both North and South this terrible war, as the
woe due to those by whom the offense came". He also spoke of "the
wealth piled by the bondsman's two hundred and fifty years in unrequited
toil". Lincoln was historian and economist enough to know that
a substantial portion of this wealth had accumulated in the hands of
the descendants of New Englanders engaged in the slave trade. After
how many generations is such wealth (mounting all the while through
the manipulations of high finance) purified of taint? It is a question
which New Englanders long ago put out of their minds. But didn't
they get off too easy? The slaves never shared in <their> profits,
while they did share, in a very real sense, in the profits of the
slave-owners: they were fed, clothed, doctored, and so forth; they
were the beneficiaries of responsible, paternalistic care.
Emerson- Platonist, idealist, doctrinaire- sounded a high Transcendental
note in his "Boston Hymn", delivered in 1863 in the Boston Music
Hall amidst thundering applause: "Pay ransom to the owner and
fill the bag to the brim. Who is the owner? The slave is owner,
And ever was. Pay him"! It is the abstractionism, the unrealism,
of the pure idealist. It ignores the sordid financial aspects (quite
conveniently, too, for his audience, who could indulge in moral indignation
without visible, or even conscious, discomfort, their money
from the transaction having been put away long ago in a good antiseptic
brokerage). Like Pilate, they had washed their hands. But can one,
really? Can God be mocked, ever, in the long run? New
Englanders were a bit sensitive on the subject of their complicity in
Negro slavery at the time of the drafting of the Declaration of Independence,
as Jefferson explained in his "Autobiography": "

The clause reprobating the enslaving the inhabitants of Africa

was struck out in complaisance to South Carolina and Georgia, who
had never attempted to restrain the importation of slaves, and who on
the contrary still wished to continue it. Our Northern brethren also
I believe felt a little tender under those censures; for though their
people had very few slaves themselves, yet they had been pretty considerable
carriers of them to others". But that was a long
time ago. The New England conscience became desensitized. George
W& Cable (naturalized New Englander), writing in 1889 from "Paradise
Road, Northampton" (lovely symbolic name), agitated continuously
the "<Southern> question". It was nice to be able to isolate
it. ##

New England, as everyone knows, has long been schoolmaster

to the Nation. There one finds concentrated in a comparatively
small area the chief universities, colleges, and preparatory schools
of the United States. Why should this be so? It is true that New
England, more than any other section, was dedicated to education
from the start. But I think that something more than this is involved.

How did it happen, for example, that the state university,

that great symbol of American democracy, failed to flourish in New England
as it did in other parts of the country? Isn't it a bit odd
that the three states of Southern New England (Massachusetts, Connecticut,
and Rhode Island) have had state institutions of university
status only in the very recent past, these institutions having previously
been ~A+~M colleges? Was it supposed, perchance, that
~A+~M (vocational training, that is) was quite sufficient for the
immigrant class which flooded that part of the New England world in
the post-Civil War period, the immigrants having been brought in from
Southern Europe, to work in the mills, to make up for the labor
shortage caused by migration to the West? Is it not ironical that
Roger Williams's state, Rhode Island, should have been the very
last of the forty-eight to establish a state university? The state
universities of Maine, New Hampshire, And Vermont are older and more
"respectable"; they had less immigration to contend with.

A Yale historian, writing a few years ago in <The Yale Review>,

said: "We in New England have long since segregated our children".
He was referring not only to the general college situation
but more especially to the preparatory schools. And what a galaxy of
those adorns that fair land! I don't propose to go into their history,
but I have one or two surmises. One is that they were established,
or gained eminence, under pressure provided by these same immigrants,
from whom the old families wished to segregate their children.
In the early days of a homogeneous population, the public school was
quite satisfactory.

AMONG THE RECIPIENTS of the Nobel Prize for Literature

more than half are practically unknown to readers of English. Of these
there are surely few that would be more rewarding discoveries than
Verner von Heidenstam, the Swedish poet and novelist who received
the award in 1916 and whose centennial was celebrated two years ago.
Equally a master of prose and verse, he recreates the glory of Sweden
in the past and continues it into the present. In the following sketch
we shall present a brief outline of his life and let him as much as
possible speak for himself. Heidenstam was born in 1859, of
a prosperous family. On his father's side he was of German descent,
on his mother's he came of the old Swedish nobility. The family
estate was situated near Vadstena on Lake Va^ttern in south central
Sweden. It is a lonely, rather desolate region, but full of legendary
and historic associations. As a boy in a local school he was shy
and solitary, absorbed in his fondness for nature and his visions of
Sweden's ancient glory. He liked to fancy himself as a chieftain
and to dress for the part. Being somewhat delicate in health, at the
age of sixteen he was sent to Southern Europe, for which he at once
developed a passion, so that he spent nearly all of the following ten
years abroad, at first in Italy, then in Greece, Egypt, Asia Minor,
and Palestine. In one of his summers at home he married, to the
great disapproval of his father, who objected because of his extreme youth.

Deciding to become a painter, he entered the studio of Gerome

in Paris, where he enjoyed the life of the artists, but soon found
that whatever talent he might have did not lie in that direction.
He gives us an account of this in his lively and humorous poem, "The
Happy Artists". "I scanned the world through printed symbol
swart, And through the beggar's rags I strove to see The inner man.
I looked unceasingly With my cold mind and with my burning heart".
In this final line, we have the key to his nature. Few writers
have better understood their deepest selves. Heidenstam could never be
satisfied by surface. It may, however, be noted that his gift for color
and imagery must have been greatly stimulated by his stay in Paris.
The first result of Heidenstam's long sojourn abroad was
a volume of poems, <Pilgrimage and Wander-Years (Vallfart och vandringsar),>
published in 1888. It was a brilliant debut, so much so
indeed that it aroused a new vitality in the younger poets, as did Byron's
<Childe Harold>. Professor Fredrik Bo^o^k, Sweden's
foremost critic of the period, acclaims it as follows: "In
this we have the verse of a painter; strongly colorful, plastic, racy,
vivid. In a bold, sometimes careless, form there is nothing academic;
all is seen and felt and experienced, the observation is sharp
and the imagination lively. The young poet-painter reproduces the French
life of the streets; he tells stories of the Thousand and One
Nights, and conjures up before us the bazaars of Damascus. In the
care-free indolence of the East he sees the last reflection of the
old happy existence, and for that reason he loves it. And yet amid all
the gay hedonism in <Pilgrimage and Wander-Years> is a cycle of
short poems, "Thoughts in Loneliness", filled with brooding, melancholy,
and sombre longing". Of the longer pieces of the volume
none is so memorable as "Nameless and Immortal", which at
once took rank among the finest poems ever written in the Swedish language.
It celebrates the unknown architect who designed the temple of
Neptune at Paestum, next to the Parthenon the noblest example of Grecian
classic style now in existence. On the eve of his return to their
native Naxos he speaks with his wife of the masterpiece which rises
before them in its completed perfection. The supreme object of their
lives is now fulfilled, says the wife, her husband has achieved immortality.
Not so, he answers, it is not the architect but the temple
that is immortal. "The man's true reputation is his work".

The short poems grouped at the end of the volume as "Thoughts

in Loneliness" is, as Professor Bo^o^k indicated, in sharp contrast
with the others. It consists of fragmentary personal revelations,
such as "The Spark": "There is a spark dwells deep within
my soul. To get it out into the daylight's glow Is my life's
aim both first and last, the whole. It slips away, it burns and tortures
me. That little spark is all the wealth I know, That little spark
is my life's misery". A dominant motive is the poet's longing
for his homeland and its boyhood associations: "Not men-folk, but
the fields where I would stray, The stones where as a child I used
to play". He is utterly disappointed in himself and in the desultory
life he has been leading. What he really wants is to find "a
sacred cause" to which he can honestly devote himself. This restless
individualism found its answer when he returned to live nearly all
the rest of his life in Sweden. His cause was to commemorate the glory
of her past and to incite her people to perpetuate it in the present.

He did not, however, find himself at once. His next major

work, completed in 1892, was a long fantastic epic in prose, entitled
<Hans Alienus,> which Professor Bo^o^k describes as a monument
on the grave of his carefree and indolent youth. The hero, who is
himself, is represented as a pilgrim in the storied lands of the East,
a sort of Faustus type, who, to quote from Professor Bo^o^k again,
"even in the pleasure gardens of Sardanapalus can not cease from
his painful search after the meaning of life. He is driven back by
his yearning to the wintry homeland of his fathers in the forest of
Tiveden". From this time on Heidenstam proceeded to find his
deeper self. By the death of his father in 1888 he had come into possession
of the family estate and had re-assumed its traditions. He
did not, however, settle back into acquiescence with things as they were.
Like his friend and contemporary August Strindberg he had little
patience with collective mediocrity. He saw Sweden as a country of
smug and narrow provincialism, indifferent to the heroic spirit of its
former glory. Strindberg's remedy for this condition was to tear
down the old structures and build anew from the ground up. Heidenstam's
conception, on the contrary, was to revive the present by the memories
of the past. ##

Whether in prose or poetry, all of Heidenstam's

later work was concerned with Sweden. With the first of a group
of historical novels, <The Charles Men (Karolinerna)>, published
in 1897-8, he achieved the masterpiece of his career. In scope
and power it can only be compared to Tolstoy's <War and Peace>.
About one-third as long, it is less intimate and detailed, but better
coordinated, more concise and more dramatic. Though it centers around
the brilliant and enigmatic figure of Charles /12,, the true hero
is not finally the king himself. Hence the title of the book, referring
to the soldiers and subjects of the king; on the fatal battlefield
of Poltava, to quote from the novel, "the wreath he twined for
himself slipped down upon his people". <The Charles Men>
consists not of a connected narrative but of a group of short stories,
each depicting a special phase of the general subject. Somewhat uneven
in interest for an average reader, eight or ten of these are among
the finest of their kind in literature. They comprise a great variety
of scene and interest: grim episodes of war, idyllic interludes, superb
canvases of world-shaking events, and delightfully humorous sketches
of odd characters. The general effect is tragic. Almost nothing
is said of Charles' spectacular victories, the central theme being
the heroic loyalty of the Swedish people to their idolized king in misfortune
and defeat. To carry out this exalted conception the
author has combined the vivid realism and imaginative power we have noticed
in his early poetry and carried them out on a grand scale. His
peculiar gift, as had been suggested before, is his intensity. George
Meredith has said that fervor is the core of style. Of few authors
is this more true than of Heidenstam. <The Charles Men> has a tremendous
range of characters, of common folk even more than of major
figures. The career of Charles /12, is obviously very similar to that
of Napoleon. His ideal was Alexander of Macedon, as Napoleon's
was Julius Caesar. His purpose, however, was not to establish an
empire, but to assert the principle of divine justice. Each aspired
to be a god in human form, but with each it was a different kind of god.
Each failed catastrophically in an invasion of Russia and each brought
ruin on the country that worshipped him. Each is still glorified
as a national hero. The first half of <The Charles Men,>
ending on the climax of the battle of Poltava in 1709, is more dramatically
coherent than the second. After the collapse of that desperate
and ill-fated campaign the character of the king degenerated for a
time into a futility that was not merely pitiable but often ridiculous.
Like Napoleon, he was the worst of losers. There are, however, some
wonderful chapters at the beginning of the second part, concerning
the reactions of the Swedes in adversity. Then more than ever before
did they show their fortitude and patient cheerfulness. This comes
out in "When the Bells Ring", which describes the rallying of the
peasants in southern Sweden to repel an invasion by the Danes.

In "The King's Ride", Charles breaks out of a long period

of petulance and inertia, regains his old self, escapes from Turkey,
and finally reaches his own land after an absence of eighteen years.
He finds it in utter misery and desolation. All his people ask for
is no more war. But he plunges into yet another, this time with Norway,
and is killed in an assault on the fortress of Fredrikshall, being
only thirty-six years of age when he died. He had become king at fifteen.

Then suddenly there was a tremendous revulsion of popular

feeling. From being a hated tyrant and madman he was now the symbol
of all that was noblest and best in the history of Sweden. This is
brought out in the next to last chapter of the book, "A Hero's
Funeral", written in the form of an impassioned prose poem. Slowly
the procession of warriors and statesmen passes through the snow beside
the black water and into the brilliantly lighted cathedral, the shrine
of so many precious memories. The guns are fired, the hymns are
sung, and the body of Charles is carried down to the vault and laid beside
the tombs of his ancestors. As he had longed to be, he became the
echo of a saga. Heidenstam wrote four other works of fiction
about earlier figures revered in Swedish memory. Excellent in their
way, they lack the wide appeal of <The Charles Men>, and need
not detain us here. It is different with his volume <The Swedes
and Their Chieftains (Svenskarna och deras ho^vdingar),> a history
intended for the general reader and particularly suited for high
school students. Admirably written, it is a perfect introduction to Swedish
history for readers of other countries. Some of the earlier episodes
have touches of the supernatural, as suited to the legendary background.
These are suggestive of Selma Lagerlo^f. Especially touching
is the chapter, "The Little Sister", about a king's daughter
who became a nun in the convent of St& Birgitta. The record
teems with romance and adventure. Gustaf Vasa is a superb example,
and Charles /10,, the conqueror of Denmark, hardly less so. Of
Gustavus Adolphus and Charles /12, it is unnecessary to speak.
Today the private detective will also investigate insurance claims or
handle divorce cases, but his primary function remains what it has always
been, to assist those who have money in their unending struggle with
those who have not. It is from this unpromising background that the
fictional private detective was recruited. ##

THE mythological
private eye differs from his counterpart in real life in two essential
ways. On the one hand, he does not work for a large agency, but
is almost always self-employed. As a free-lance investigator, the fictional
detective is responsible to no one but himself and his client.
For this reason, he appears as an independent and self-reliant figure,
whose rugged individualism need not be pressed into the mold of a
9 to 5 routine. On the other hand, the fictional detective does not
break strikes or handle divorce cases; no client would ever think of
asking him to do such things. Whatever his original assignment, the
fictional private eye ends up by investigating and solving a crime, usually
a murder. Operating as a one man police force in fact if not in
name, he is at once more independent and more dedicated than the police
themselves. He catches criminals not merely because he is paid to
do so (frequently he does not receive a fee at all), but because he enjoys
his work, because he firmly believes that murder must be punished.
Thus the fictional detective is much more than a simple businessman.
He is, first and foremost, a defender of public morals, a servant of
society. It is this curious blend of rugged individualism and
public service which accounts for the great appeal of the mythological
detective. By virtue of his self-reliance, his individualism and
his freedom from external restraint, the private eye is a perfect embodiment
of the middle class conception of liberty, which amounts to doing
what you please and let the devil take the hindmost. At the same time,
because the personal code of the detective coincides with the legal
dictates of his society, because he likes to catch criminals, he is
in middle class eyes a virtuous man. In this way, the private detective
gets the best of two possible worlds. He is an individualist but
not an anarchist; he is a public servant but not a cop. In short, the
fictional private eye is a specialized version of Adam Smith's
ideal entrepreneur, the man whose private ambitions must always and everywhere
promote the public welfare. In the mystery story, as in <The
Wealth of Nations,> individualism and the social good are two sides
of the same benevolent coin. ##

THERE is only one

catch to this idyllic arrangement: Adam Smith was wrong. Not only
did the ideal entrepreneur not produce the greatest good for the greatest
number, he ended by destroying himself, by giving birth to monopoly
capitalism. The rise of the giant corporations in Western Europe
and the United States dates from the period 1880-1900. Now, although
the roots of the mystery story in serious literature go back as far
as Balzac, Dickens, and Poe, it was not until the closing decades
of the 19th century that the private detective became an established
figure in popular fiction. Sherlock Holmes, the ancestor of all private
eyes, was born during the 1890s. Thus the transformation of Adam
Smith's ideal entrepreneur into a mythological detective coincides
closely with the decline of the real entrepreneur in economic life. Driven
from the marketplace by the course of history, our hero disguises
himself as a private detective. The birth of the myth compensates
for the death of the ideal. Even on the fictional level, however,
the contradictions which give rise to the mystery story are not fully
resolved. The individualism and public service of the private detective
both stem from his dedication to a personal code of conduct:
he enforces the law without being told to do so. The private eye is therefore
a moral man; but his morality rests upon that of his society.
The basic premise of all mystery stories is that the distinction between
good and bad coincides with the distinction between legal and illegal.
Unfortunately, this assumption does not always hold good. As
capitalism in the 20th century has become increasingly dependent upon
force and violence for its survival, the private detective is placed
in a serious dilemma. If he is good, he may not be legal; if he is
legal, he may not be good. It is the gradual unfolding and deepening
of this contradiction which creates the inner dialectic of the evolution
of the mystery story. ##

WITH the advent of Sir Arthur

Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes, the development of the modern private
detective begins. Sherlock Holmes is not merely an individualist;
he is very close to being a mental case. A brief list of the great
detective's little idiosyncrasies would provide Dr& Freud with
ample food for thought. Holmes is addicted to the use of cocaine and
other refreshing stimulants; he is prone to semi-catatonic trances
induced by the playing of the vioiln; he is a recluse, an incredible
egotist, a confirmed misogynist. Holmes rebels against the social
conventions of his day not on moral but rather on aesthetic grounds. His
eccentricity begins as a defense against boredom. It was in order
to avoid the stuffy routine of middle class life that Holmes became
a detective in the first place. As he informs Watson, "My life is
spent in one long effort to escape from the commonplaces of existence.
These little problems help me to do so". Holmes is a public servant,
to be sure; but the society which he serves bores him to tears.
The curious relationship between Holmes and Scotland Yard
provides an important clue to the deeper significance of his eccentric
behavior. Although he is perfectly willing to cooperate with Scotland
Yard, Holmes has nothing but contempt for the intelligence and mentality
of the police. They for their part are convinced that Holmes
is too "unorthodox" and "theoretical" to make a good detective.
Why do the police find Holmes "unorthodox"? On the face of
it, it is because he employs deductive techniques alien to official
police routine. Another, more interesting explanation, is hinted at by
Watson when he observes on several occasions that Holmes would have
made a magnificent criminal. The great detective modestly agrees. Watson's
insight is verified by the mysterious link between Holmes
and his arch-opponent, Dr& Moriarty. The two men resemble each other
closely in their cunning, their egotism, their relentlessness. The
first series of Sherlock Holmes adventures ends with Holmes and Moriarty
grappling together on the edge of a cliff. They are presumed
to have plunged to a common grave in this fatal embrace. Linked to Holmes
even in death, Moriarty represents the alter-ego of the great
detective, the image of what our hero might have become were he not a
public servant. Just as Holmes the eccentric stands behind Holmes the
detective, so Holmes the potential criminal lurks behind both. ##

IN the modern English "whodunnit", this insinuation of

latent criminality in the detective himself has almost entirely disappeared.
Hercule Poirot and Lord Peter Whimsey (the respective creations
of Agatha Christie and Dorothy Sayers) have retained
Holmes'
egotism but not his zest for life and eccentric habits. Poirot and
his counterparts are perfectly respectable people; it is true that
they are also extremely dull. Their dedication to the status quo has
been affirmed at the expense of the fascinating but dangerous individualism
of a Sherlock Holmes. The latter's real descendents were unable
to take root in England; they fled from the Victorian parlor
and made their way across the stormy Atlantic. In the American "hardboiled"
detective story of the '20s and '30s, the spirit of the
mad genius from Baker Street lives on. Like Holmes, the
American private eye rejects the social conventions of his time. But
unlike Holmes, he feels his society to be not merely dull but also corrupt.
Surrounded by crime and violence everywhere, the "hardboiled"
private eye can retain his purity only through a life of self-imposed
isolation. His alienation is far more acute than Holmes'; he
is not an eccentric but rather an outcast. With Rex Stout's Nero
Wolfe, alienation is represented on a purely physical plane. Wolfe
refuses to ever leave his own house, and spends most of his time drinking
beer and playing with orchids. More profound and more disturbing,
however, is the moral isolation of Raymond Chandler's Philip Marlowe.
In a society where everything is for sale, Marlowe is the only
man who cannot be bought. His tough honesty condemns him to a solitary
and difficult existence. Beaten, bruised and exhausted, he pursues
the elusive killer through the demi-monde of high society and low
morals, always alone, always despised. In the end, he gets his man, but
no one seems to care; virtue is its own and only reward. A similar
tone of underlying futility and despair pervades the spy thrillers
of Eric Ambler and dominates the most famous of all American mystery
stories, Dashiell Hammett's <The Maltese Falcon>. Sam Spade
joins forces with a band of adventurers in search of a priceless jeweled
statue of a falcon; but when the bird is found at last, it turns
out to be a fake. Now the detective must save his own skin by informing
on the girl he loves, who is also the real murderer. For Sam Spade,
neither crime nor virtue pays; moreover, it is increasingly difficult
to distinguish between the two. Because the private eye
intends to save society in spite of himself, he invariably finds himself
in trouble with the police. The latter are either too stupid to
catch the killer or too corrupt to care. In either case, they do not
appreciate the private detective's zeal. Perry Mason and Hamilton
Burger, Nero Wolfe and Inspector Cramer spend more time fighting
each other than they do in looking for the criminal. Frequently enough,
the police are themselves in league with the killer; Dashiell
Hammett's
<Red Harvest> provides a classic example of this theme.
But even when the police are honest, they do not trust the private
eye. He is, like Phillip Marlowe, too alienated to be reliable. Finally,
in <The Maltese Falcon> among others, the clash between detective
and police is carried to its logical conclusion: Sam Spade
becomes the chief murder suspect. In order to exonerate himself, he
is compelled to find the real criminal, who happens to be his girl friend.
What was only a vague suspicion in the case of Sherlock Holmes
now appears as a direct accusation: the private eye is in danger of
turning into his opposite. ##

IT IS the growing contradiction

between individualism and public service in the mystery story which
creates this fatal dilemma. By upholding his own personal code of behavior,
the private detective has placed himself in opposition to a society
whose fabric is permeated with crime and corruption. That society
responds by condemning the private eye as a threat to the status quo,
a potential criminal. If the detective insists upon retaining his
personal standards, he must now do so in conscious defiance of his society.
He must, in short, cease to be a detective and become a rebel.
On the other hand, if he wishes to continue in his chosen profession,
he must abandon his own code and sacrifice his precious individualism.
Dashiell Hammett resolved this contradiction by ceasing to write
mystery
stories and turning to other pursuits. His successors have adopted
the opposite alternative. In order to save the mystery story, they
have converted the private detective into an organization man.

The first of two possible variations on this theme is symbolized by

Mickey Spillane's Mike Hammer. At first glance, this hero seems
to be more rather than less of an individualist than any of his predecessors.
For Hammer, nothing is forbidden. He kills when he pleases,
takes his women where he finds them and always acts as judge, jury
and executioner rolled into one.
It will be shown that the <objectives> of the cooperative people in
an organization determine the type of <network> required, because the
type of network functions according to the characteristics of the messages
enumerated in Table 1. Great stress is placed on the role that
the monitoring of information sending plays in maintaining the effectiveness
of the network. By monitoring, we mean some system of control
over the types of information sent from the various centers.
As a word of caution, we should be aware that in actual practice no
message is purely one of the four types, question, command, statement,
or exclamation. For example, suppose a man wearing a $200 watch, driving
a 1959 Rolls Royce, stops to ask a man on the sidewalk, "What
time is it"? This sentence would have most of the characteristics
of a question, but it has some of the characteristics of a statement
because the questioner has conveyed the fact that he has no faith in
his own timepiece or the one attached to his car. If the man on the
sidewalk is surprised at this question, it has served as an exclamation.
Also, since the man questioned feels a strong compulsion to answer
(and thereby avoid the consequences of being thought queer) the question
has assumed some measurable properties of a command. However, for
convenience we will stick to the idea that information can be classified
according to Table 1. On this basis, certain extreme kinds of networks
will be discussed for illustrative purposes.

#NETWORKS ILLUSTRATING
SOME SPECIAL TYPES OF ORGANIZATION#

_THE COCKTAIL PARTY._

Presumably a cocktail party is expected to fulfill the host's desire
to get together a number of people who are inadequately acquainted
and thereby arrange for bringing the level of acquaintance up to adequacy
for future cooperative endeavors. The party is usually in a room
small enough so that all guests are within sight and hearing of one another.
The information is furnished by each of the guests, is sent by
oral broadcasting over the air waves, and is received by the ears. Since
the air is a continuum, the network of communication remains intact
regardless of the positions or motions of the points (the people)
in the net. As shown in Figure 1, there is a connection for communication
between every pair of points. This, and other qualifications, make
the cocktail party the most complete and most chaotic communication
system ever dreamed up. All four types of message listed in Table
1 are permitted, although decorum and cocktail tradition require holding
the commands to a minimum, while <exclamations> having complimentary
intonations are more than customarily encouraged. The completeness
of the connections provide that, for ~<N> people, there are **f
lines of communication between the pairs, which can become a large number
(1,225) for a party of fifty guests. Looking at the diagram, we
see that **f connection lines come in to each member. Thus the cocktail
party would appear to be the ideal system, but there is one weakness.
In spite of the dreams of the host for oneness in the group, the
**f incoming messages for each guest overload his receiving system beyond
comprehension if ~<N> exceeds about six. The crowd consequently
breaks up into temporary groups ranging in size from two to six, with
a half-life for the cluster ranging from three to twenty minutes.

For the occasion on which everyone already knows everyone else

and the host wishes them to meet one or a few honored newcomers, then
the "open house" system is advantageous because the honored guests
are fixed connective points and the drifting guests make and break connections
at the door. _THE RURAL COMMUNITY._ We consider a rural
community as an assemblage of inhabited dwellings whose configuration
is determined by the location and size of the arable land sites necessary
for family subsistence. We assume for this illustration that the
size of the land plots is so great that the distance between dwellings
is greater than the voice can carry and that most of the communication
is between nearest neighbors only, as shown in Figure 2. Information
beyond nearest neighbor is carried second-, third-, and fourth-hand
as a distortable rumor. In Figure 2, the points in the network are
designated by a letter accompanied by a number. The numbers indicate
the number of nearest neighbors. It will be noted that point ~<f>
has seven nearest neighbors, ~<h> and ~<e> have six, and ~<p>
has only one, while the remaining points have intermediate numbers.
In any social system in which communications have an importance
comparable with that of production and other human factors, a point
like ~<f> in Figure 2 would (other things being equal) be the dwelling
place for the community leader, while ~<e> and ~<h> would
house the next most important citizens. A point like ~<p> gets
information directly from ~<n>, but all information beyond ~<n>
is indirectly relayed through ~<n>. The dweller at ~<p> is
last to hear about a new cure, the slowest to announce to his neighbors
his urgent distresses, the one who goes the farthest to trade, and the
one with the greatest difficulty of all in putting over an idea or
getting people to join him in a cooperative effort. Since the hazards
of poor communication are so great, ~<p> can be justified as a habitable
site only on the basis of unusual productivity such as is made
available by a waterfall for milling purposes, a mine, or a sugar maple
camp. Location theorists have given these matters much consideration.
_MILITARY ORGANIZATIONS._ The networks for military communications
are one of the best examples of networks which not only must be
changed with the changes in objectives but also must be changed with the
addition of new machines of war. They also furnish proof that, in
modern war, message sending must be monitored. Without monitoring, a
military hookup becomes a noisy party. The need for monitoring became
greater when radio was adopted for military signaling. Alexander the
Great, who used runners as message carriers, did not have to worry about
having every officer in his command hear what he said and having
hundreds of them comment at once. As time has passed and science has
progressed, the speed of military vehicles has increased, the range of
missiles has been extended, the use of target-hunting noses on the projectiles
has been adopted, and the range and breadth of message sending
has increased. Next to the old problem of the slowness of decision
making, network structure seems to be paramount, and without monitoring
no network has value. On the parade ground the net may be similar
to that shown in Figure 3. The monitoring is the highest and
most restrictive of any organization in existence. No questions, statements,
or explanations are permitted- only commands. Commands go only
from an officer to the man of nearest lower rank. The same command
is repeated as many times as there are levels in rank from general to
corporal. All orders originate with the officer of highest rank and
terminate with action of the men in the ranks. Even the officer in charge,
be it a captain (for small display) or a general, is restrained
by monitoring. This is done for simplicity of commands and to bring the
hidden redundancy up to where misunderstanding has almost zero possibility.
The commands are specified by the military regulations; are
few in number, briefly worded, all different in sound; and are combinable
into sequences which permit any marching maneuver that could be
desired on a parade ground. This monitoring is necessary because, on
a parade ground, everyone can hear <too much>, and without monitoring
a confused social event would develop. With troops dispersed
on fields of battle rather than on the parade ground, it may seem that
a certain amount of monitoring is automatically enforced by the lines
of communication. Years ago this was true, but with the replacement
of wires or runners by radio and radar (and perhaps television), these
restrictions have disappeared and now again <too much> is heard.

In contrast to cocktail parties, military organizations, even

in the field, are more formal. In the extreme and oversimplified example
suggested in Figure 3, the organization is more easily understood
and more predictable in behavior. A military organization has an objective
chosen by the higher command. This objective is adhered to throughout
the duration of the action. The connective system, or network,
is tailored to meet the requirements of the objective, and it is therefore
not surprising that a military body acting as a single coordinated
unit has a different communication network than a factory, a college,
or a rural village. The assumptions upon which the example
shown
in Figure 3 is based are: (a) One man can direct about six subordinates
if the subordinates are chosen carefully so that they do not
need too much personal coaching, indoctrinating, etc&. (b) A message
runs too great a risk of being distorted if it is to be relayed more
than about six consecutive times. (c) Decisions of a general kind
are made by the central command. And (d) all action of a physical kind
pertinent to the mission is relegated to the line of men on the lower
rank. These assumptions lead to an organization with one man at the
top, six directly under him, six under each of these, and so on until
there are six levels of personnel. The number of people acting as one
body by this scheme gives a surprisingly large army of **f 55,987
men. This organizational network would be of no avail if there
were no regulations pertaining to the types of message sent. Of types
of message listed in Table 1, commands and statements are the only
ones sent through the vertical network shown in Figure 3. A further
regulation is that commands always go <down>, unaccompanied by statements,
and statements always go <up>, unaccompanied by commands. Questions
and, particularly, exclamations are usually channeled along informal,
horizontal lines not indicated in Figure 3 and seldom are carried
beyond the nearest neighbor. It will readily be seen that
in this suggested network (not materially different from some of the
networks in vogue today) greater emphasis on monitoring is implied than
is usually put into practice. Furthermore, the network in Figure
3 is only the basic net through which other networks pertaining to logistics
and the like are interlaced. Not discussed here are some
military problems of modern times such as undersea warfare, where the
surveillance, sending, transmitting, and receiving are all so inadequate
that networks and decision making are not the bottlenecks. Such
problems are of extreme interest as well as importance and are so much
like fighting in a rain forest or guerrilla warfare at night in tall
grass that we might have to re-examine primitive conflicts for what they
could teach. _A TEAM FOR USEFUL RESEARCH._ This is an unsolved
problem which probably has never been seriously investigated, although
one frequently hears the comment that we have insufficient <specialists>
of the kind who can compete with the Germans or Swiss, for example,
in precision machinery and mathematics, or the Finns in geochemistry.
We hear equally fervent concern over the belief that we have
not enough <generalists> who can see the over-all picture and combine
our national skills and knowledge for useful purposes. This problem
of the optimum balance in the relative numbers of generalists and
specialists can be investigated on a communicative network basis. Since
the difficulty of drawing the net is great, we will merely discuss
it. First, we realize that a pure specialist does not exist. But,
for practical purposes, we have people who can be considered as such.
For example, there are persons who are in physical science, in the
field of mineralogy, trained in crystallography, who use only X-rays,
applying only the powder technique of X-ray diffraction, to clay
minerals only, and who have spent the last fifteen years concentrating
on the montmorillonites; or persons in the social sciences in the
field of anthropology, studying the lung capacity of seven Andean
Indians. So we see that a specialist is a man who knows more and more
about less and less as he develops, as contrasted to the generalist,
who knows less and less about more and more.
AMERICAN DEMOCRATIC THOUGHT, pointed up the relation between the
Protestant movement in this country and the development of a social
religion, which he called the American Democratic Faith. Those familiar
with his work will remember that he placed the incipience of the
democratic faith at around 1850. And he describes it as a balanced polarity
between the notions of the free individual and what he called
the fundamental law. I want to say more about Gabriel's so-called
fundamental law. But first I want to quote him on the relationship
that he found between religion and politics in this country and
what happened to it. He points out that from the time of Jackson on
through World War /1,, evangelical Protestantism was a dominant influence
in the social and political life of America. He terms this
early enthusiasm "Romantic Christianity" and concludes that its
similarity to democratic beliefs of that day is so great that "the doctrine
of liberty seems but a secular version of its counterpart in evangelical
Protestantism". Let me quote him even more fully, for his
analysis is important to my theme. He says: "Beside the
Protestant philosophy of Progress, as expressed in radical or conservative
millenarianism, should be placed the doctrine of the democratic
faith which affirmed it to be the duty of the destiny of the United
States to assist in the creation of a better world by keeping lighted
the beacon of democracy". He specifies, "In the middle period
of the Nineteenth Century it was colored by Christian supernaturalism,
in the Twentieth Century it was affected by naturalism. But in
every period it has been humanism". And let me add, utopianism, also.

Some fourteen or fifteen years ago, in an essay I called

<The Leader Follows- Where?> I used his polarity to illustrate
what I thought had happened to us in that form of liberalism we call
Progressivism. It seemed to me that the liberals had scrapped the
balanced polarity and reposed both liberty and the fundamental law
in the common man. That is to say Gabriel's fundamental law had been
so much modified by this time that it was neither fundamental nor
law any more. It is a weakness of Gabriel's analysis that he never
seems to realize that his so-called fundamental law had already been
cut loose from its foundations when it was adapted to democracy. And
with Progressivism the Religion of Humanity was replacing what Gabriel
called Christian supernaturalism. And the common man was developing
mythic power, or charisma, on his own. During the decade
that followed, the common man, as that piece put it, grew uncomfortable
as the Voice of God and fled from behind Saint Woodrow (Wilson)
only to learn from Science, to his shocked relief that after all there
was no God he had to speak for and that he was just an animal anyhow-
that there was a chemical formula for him, and that too much couldn't
be expected of him. The socialism implicit in the slogan
of the Roosevelt Revolution, freedom from want and fear, seems a
far cry from the individualism of the First Amendment to the Constitution,
or of the Jacksonian frontier. What had happened to the common
man? French Egalitarianism had had only nominal influence
in this country before the days of Popularism. The riotous onrush
of industrialism after the War for Southern Independence and the general
secular drift to the Religion of Humanity, however, prepared
the way for a reception of the French Revolution's socialistic offspring
of one sort of another. The first of which to find important place
in our federal government was the graduated income tax under Wilson.
Moreover the centralization of our economy during the 1920s, the
dislocations of the Depression, the common ethos of Materialism everywhere,
all contributed in various ways to the face-lifting that replaced
Mike Fink and the Great Gatsby with the anonymous physiognomy
of the Little People. However, it is important to trace the
philosophy of the French Revolution to its sources to understand the
common democratic origin of individualism and socialism and the influence
of the latter on the former. That John Locke's philosophy of
the social contract fathered the American Revolution with its Declaration
of Independence, I believe, we generally accept. Yet, after
Rousseau had given the <social contract> a new twist with his notion
of the General Will, the same philosophy, it may be said, became
the idea source of the French Revolution also. The importance
of Rousseau's twist has not always been clear to us, however. This
notion of the General Will gave rise to the Commune of Paris in
the Revolution and later brought Napoleon to dictatorship. And it
is clearly argued by Lord Percy of Newcastle, in his remarkable long
essay, <The Heresy of Democracy>, and in a more general way by
Voegelin, in his <New Science of Politics>, that this same Rousseauan
idea, descending through European democracy, is the source of
Marx's theory of the dictatorship of the proletariat. This is important
to understanding the position that doctrinaire liberals found themselves
in after World War /2, and our great democratic victory
that brought no peace. The long road that had taken liberals in
this country into the social religion of democracy, into a worship of
man, led logically to the Marxist dream of a classless society under
a Socialist State. And the ~USSR existed as the revolutionary
experiment in radical socialism, the ultimate exemplar. And by the
time the war ended, liberal leadership in this country was spiritually
Marxist. We will recall that the still confident liberals of
the Truman administration gathered with other Western utopians in
San Francisco to set up the legal framework, finally and at last, to
rationalize war- to rationalize want and fear- out of the world:
the United Nations. We of the liberal-led world got all set for peace
and rehabilitation. Then suddenly we found ourselves in the middle
of another fight, an irrational, an indecent, an undeclared and immoral
war with our strongest (and some had thought noblest) ally.

During the next five years the leaders of the Fair Deal reluctantly
backed down from the optimistic expectations of the New Deal. During
the next five years liberal leaders in the United States sank in
the cumulative confusion attendant upon and manifested in a negative
policy of Containment- and the bitterest irony- enforced and enforceable
only by threat of a weapon that we felt the greatest distaste
for but could not abandon: the atom bomb. In 1952, it will be remembered,
the G&O&P& without positive program campaigned on the
popular disillusionment with liberal leadership and won overwhelmingly.

All of this, I know, is recent history familiar to you. But

I have been at some pains to review it as the drama of the common
man, to point up what happened to him under Eisenhower's leadership.

A perceptive journalist, Sam Lubell, has phrased it in the

title of one of his books as THE REVOLT OF THE MODERATES. He opens
his discourse, however, with a review of the Eisenhower inaugural
festivities at which a sympathetic press had assembled its massive talents,
all primed to catch some revelation of the emerging new age. The
show was colorful, indeed, exuberant, but the press for all its assiduity
could detect no note of a fateful rendezvous with destiny.

Lubell offers his book as an explanation of why there was no clue.

And I select this sentence as its pertinent summation: "In essence
the drama of his (Eisenhower's) Presidency can be described
as the ordeal of a nation turned conservative and struggling- thus far
with but limited and precarious success- to give effective voice
and force to that conservatism". I will assume that we are
all aware of the continuing struggle, with its limited and precarious
success, toward conservatism. It has moved on various levels, it has
been clamorous and confused. Obviously there has been no agreement on
what American conservatism is, or rather, what it should be. For it
was neglected, not to say nascent, when the struggle began. I saw a
piece the other day assailing William Buckley, author of MAN AND
GOD AT YALE and publisher of the <National Review>, as no conservative
at all, but an old liberal. I would agree with this view. But
I'm not here to define conservatism. What I am here to do
is to report on the gyrations of the struggle- a struggle that amounts
to self-redefinition- to see if we can predict its future course.

One of the obvious conclusions we can make on the basis of

the last election, I suppose, is that we, the majority, were dissatisfied
with Eisenhower conservatism. Though, to be sure, we gave Kennedy
no very positive approval in the margin of his preferment.
This is, however, symptomatic of our national malaise. But before I
try to diagnose it, I would offer other evidence. I will mention two
volumes of specific comment on this malaise that appeared last year.
The earlier of them was an unofficial enterprise, sponsored by <Life>
magazine, under the title of <the National purpose>. The contributors
to this testament were all well-known: a former Democratic
candidate for President, a New Deal poet, the magazine's chief
editorial writer, two newspaper columnists, head of a national broadcasting
company, a popular Protestant evangelist, etc&. What I want
to point out here is that all of them are ex-liberals, or modified liberals,
with perhaps one exception. I suppose we might classify Billy
Graham as an old liberal. And I would further note that they all-
with one exception again- sang in one key or another the same song.
Its refrain was: "Let us return to the individualistic democracy
of our forefathers for our salvation". Adlai Stevenson
expressed some reservations about this return. Others invoked technology
and common sense. Only Walter Lippman envisioned the possibility
of our having "outlived most of what we used to regard as the program
of our national purposes". But the most notable thing about
the incantation of these ex-liberals was that the one-time shibboleth
of <socialism> was conspicuously absent. The second specific
comment was the report of Eisenhower's Commission on National
Goals, titled GOALS FOR AMERICANS. They, perhaps, gave the pitch
of their position in the preface where it was said that Eisenhower
requested that the Commission be administered by the American Assembly
of Columbia University, because it was <non-partisan>. The
Commission seems to represent the viewpoint of what I would call the
<unconscious> liberal, but not unconscious enough, to invoke the now
taboo symbolism of socialism. And here again we hear the same refrain
mentioned above: "The paramount goal of the United States
**h set long ago **h was to guard the rights of the individual **h ensure
his development **h enlarge his opportunity". This group is secularist
and their program tends to be technological. But it is
the need to undertake these testaments that I would submit here as
symptom of the common man's malaise. And let me add Murray's new
book as another symptom of it, particularly so in view of the attention
TIME magazine gave it when it came out recently. Father Murray
goes back to the Declaration of Independence, too, though I may
add, with considerably more historical perception. I will reserve
discussion of it for a moment, however, to return to President Kennedy.
As symptomatic of the common man's malaise, he is most significant:
a liberal and a Catholic, elected by the skin of his teeth.
Does that not suggest to you an uncertain and uneasy, not to say confused,
state of the public mind? What is the common man's
complaint? Let's take a panoramic look back over the course we
have come. Has not that way been lit always by the lamp of liberalism
up until the turning back under Eisenhower? And the basic character
of that liberalism has been spiritual rather than economic. Ralph
Gabriel gave it the name of Protestant philosophy of Progress. But
there's a subjective side to that utopian outlook.

DOES our society have a runaway, uncontrollable growth of

technology which may end our civilization, or a normal, healthy growth?
Here there may be an analogy with cancer: we can detect cancers
by their rapidly accelerating growth, determinable only when related
to the more normal rate of healthy growth. Should the accelerating
growth of technology then warn us? Noting such evidence is the first
step; and almost the only "cure" is <early> detection and removal.
One way to determine whether we have so dangerous a technology
would be to check the strength of our society's organs to see if their
functioning is as healthy as before. So an objective look at our
present procedures may move us to consider seriously this possibly analogous
situation. In any event, whether society may have cancer, or merely
a virus infection, the "disease", we shall find, is political,
economical, social, and even medical. Have not our physical abilities
already deteriorated because of the more sedentary lives we are now
living? Hence the prime issue, as I see it, is whether a democratic
or free society can master technology for the benefit of mankind,
or whether technology will rule and develop its own society compatible
with <its> own needs as a force of nature. We are already committed
to establishing man's supremacy over nature and everywhere
on earth, not merely in the limited social-political-economical context
we are fond of today. Otherwise, we go on endlessly trying to draw
the line, color and other, as to which kind of man we wish to see dominate.
We have proved so able to solve technological problems that to
contend we cannot realize a universal goal in the immediate future is
to be extremely shortsighted, if nothing else. We must believe we have
the ability to affect our own destinies: otherwise why try anything?
So in these pages the term "technology" is used to include any
and all means which could amplify, project, or augment man's control
over himself and over other men. Naturally this includes all communication
forms, e&g& languages, or any social, political, economic
or religious structures employed for such control. Properly mindful
of <all> the cultures in existence today throughout the world, we must
employ these resources without war or violent revolution. If
we were creating a wholly new society, we could insist that our social,
political, economic and philosophic institutions foster rather than
hamper man; best growth. But we cannot start off with a clean slate.
So we must first analyze our present institutions with respect to
the effect of each on man's major needs. Asked which institution
most needs correction, I would say the corporation as it exists in America
today. At first glance this appears strange: of all people,
was not America founded by rugged individualists who established a new
way of life still inspiring "undeveloped" societies abroad? But
hear Harrison E& Salisbury, former Moscow correspondent of The
New York Times, and author of "To Moscow- And Beyond".
In a book review of "The Soviet Cultural Offensive", he says,
"Long before the State Department organized its bureaucracy into
an East-West Contacts Staff in order to wage a cultural counter-offensive
within Soviet borders, the sharp cutting-edge of American
culture had carved its mark across the Russian steppes, as when the enterprising
promoters of 'Porgy and Bess' overrode the State Department
to carry the contemporary 'cultural warfare' behind the
enemy lines. They were not diplomats or jazz musicians, or even organizers
of reading-rooms and photo-montage displays, but rugged capitalist
entrepreneurs like Henry Ford, Hugh Cooper, Thomas Campbell,
the International Harvester Co&, and David W& Griffith. Their
kind created an American culture superior to any in the world, an
industrial and technological culture which penetrated Russia as it did
almost every corner of the earth without a nickel from the Federal
treasury or a single governmental specialist to contrive directives or
program a series of consultations of interested agencies. This favorable
image of America in the minds of Russian men and women is still
there despite years of energetic anti-American propaganda **h"

#CORPORATIONS NOW OUTMODED#

Perhaps the public's present attitude

toward business stems from the fact that the "rugged capitalist entrepreneur"
no more exists in America. In his stead is a milquetoast
version known as "the corporation". But even if we cannot see
the repulsive characteristics in this new image of America, foreigners
can; and our loss of "prestige" abroad is the direct result.
No amount of ballyhoo will cover up the sordid facts. If we want respect
from ourselves or others, we will have to earn it. First, let us
realize that whatever good this set-up achieved in earlier times, now
the corporation <per se> cannot take economic leadership. Businesses
must develop as a result of the ideas, energies and ambitions of an
individual having purpose and comprehensive ability within <one> mind.
When we "forced" individuals to assume the corporate structure
by means of taxes and other legal statutes, we adopted what I would
term "pseudo-capitalism" and so took a major step toward socialism.
The biggest loss, of course, was the individual's lessened desire
and ability to give his services to the growth of his company and
our economy. Socialism, I grant, has a definite place in our society.
But let us not complain of the evils of capitalism by referring to
a form that is not truly capitalistic. Some forms of capitalism do indeed
work- superb organizations, a credit to any society. But the pseudo-capitalism
which dictates our whole economy as well as our politics
and social life, will not stand close scrutiny. Its pretense to operate
in the public interest is little more than a sham. It serves
only its own stockholders and poorly at that. As a creative enterprise,
its abilities are primarily in "swallowing" creative enterprises
developed outside its own organization (an ability made possible by
us, and almost mandatory). As to benefits to employees, it is notorious
for its callous disregard except where it depends on them for services.

The corporation in America is in reality our form of socialism,

vying in a sense with the other socialistic form that has emerged
within governmental bureaucracy. But while the corporation has all
the disadvantages of the socialist form of organization (so cumbersome
it cannot constructively do much of anything not compatible with its
need to perpetuate itself and maintain its status quo), unluckily it
does not have the desirable aspect of socialism, the motivation to operate
for the benefit of society as a whole. So we are faced with a
vast network of amorphous entities perpetuating themselves in whatever
manner they can, without regard to the needs of society, controlling
society and forcing upon it a regime representing only the corporation's
needs for survival. The corporation has a limited, specific
place in our society. Ideally speaking, it should be allowed to operate
only where the public has a great stake in the continuity of supply
or services, and where the actions of a single proprietor are secondary
to the needs of society. Examples are in public utilities, making
military aircraft and accessories, or where the investment and risk
for a proprietorship would be too great for a much needed project impossible
to achieve by any means other than the corporate form, e&g&
constructing major airports or dams. Thus, if corporations are not
to run away with us, they must become quasi-governmental institutions,
subject to public control and needs. In all other areas, private initiative
of the "proprietorship" type should be urged to produce the
desired goods and services.

#PROPRIETORSHIP#

Avoiding runaway
technology can be done only by assuring a humane society; and for this
human beings must be firmly in control of the economics on which our
society rests. Such genuine human leadership the proprietorship can
offer, corporations cannot. It can project long-range goals for itself.
Corporations react violently to short-range stimuli, e& g&,
quarterly and annual dividend reports. Proprietorships can establish
a unity and integrity of control; corporations, being more amorphous,
cannot. Proprietorships can establish a meaningful identity, representing
a human personality, and thus establish sincere relationships with
customers and community. Corporations are apt by nature to be impersonal,
inhumane, shortsighted and almost exclusively profit-motivated,
a picture they could scarcely afford to present to the public. The
proprietor is able to create a leadership impossible in the corporate
structure with its board of directors and stockholders. Leadership is
lacking in our society because it has no legitimate place to develop.
Men continuously at the head of growing enterprises can acquire experiences
of the most varied, complicated and trying type so that at maturation
they have developed the competence and willingness to accept
the personal responsibility so sorely needed now. Hence government
must establish greater controls upon corporations so that their
activities promote what is deemed essential to the national interest.
Proprietorships should get the tax advantages now accruing to corporations,
e& g& the chance to accumulate capital so vital for growth.
Corporations should pay added taxes, to be used for educational purposes
(not necessarily of the formal type). The right to leave legacies
should be substantially reduced and ultimately eliminated. To perpetuate
wealth control led by small groups of individuals who played no
role in its creation prevents those with real initiative from coming to
the fore, and is basically anti-democratic. When the proprietor dies,
the establishment should become a corporation until it is either acquired
by another proprietor or the government decides to drop it. Strikes
should be declared illegal against corporations because disagreements
would have to be settled by government representatives acting as
controllers of the corporation whose responsibility to the state would
now be defined against proprietorship because employees and proprietors
must be completely interdependent, as they are each a part of the
whole. Strikes threatening the security of the proprietorship, if internally
motivated, prevent a healthy relationship. Certainly external
forces
should not be applied arbitrarily out of mere power available to
do so. <If we cannot stop warfare in our own economic system, how can
we expect to abolish it internationally?>

#ONE KIND OF PROPRIETORSHIP#

These proposals would go far toward creating the economic

atmosphere favoring growth of the individual, who, in turn, would help
us to cope with runaway technology. Individual <human> strength is
needed to pit against an inhuman condition. The battle is not easy.
We are tempted to blame others for our problems rather than look them
straight in the face and realize they are of our own making and possible
of solution only by ourselves with the help of desperately needed,
enlightened, competent leaders. Persons developed in to-day's corporations
cannot hope to serve here- a judgment based on experiences
of my own in business and in activities outside. In my own company, in
effect a partnership, although legally a corporation, I have been able
to do many things for my employees which "normal" corporations
of comparable size and nature would have been unable to do. Also, I
am convinced that if my company were a sole proprietorship instead of
a partnership, I would have been even abler to solve long-range problems
for myself and my fellow-employees. Any abilities I may have were
achieved in their present shape from experience in sharing in the
growth and control of my business, coupled with raising my family. This
combined experience, on a foundation of very average, I assure you,
intelligence and background, has helped me do things many well-informed
people would bet heavily against. Perhaps a list of some of the "practices"
of my company will help here. The company grew
out of efforts by two completely inexperienced men in their late twenties,
neither having a formal education applicable to, or experience in,
manufacturing or selling our type of articles. From an initial investment
of $1,200 in 1943, it has grown, with no additional capital investment,
to a present value estimated by some as exceeding $10,000,000
(<we> don't disclose financial figures to the public). Its growth
continues steadily on a par with past growth; and no limitation is
in evidence. Our pin-curl clips and self-locking nuts achieved dominance
in just a few years time, despite substantial, well established competition.

DURING the last years of Woodrow Wilson's administration,

a red scare developed in our country. Many Americans reacted irrationally
to the challenge of Russia and turned to the repression of
ideas by force. Postmaster General Burleson set about to protect the
American people against radical propaganda that might be spread through
the mails. Attorney General Palmer made a series of raids that
sent more than 4,000 so-called radicals to the jails, in direct violation
of their constitutional rights. Then, not many years later, the
Un-American Activities Committee, under the leadership of Martin
Dies, pilloried hundreds of decent, patriotic citizens. Anyone who
tried to remedy some of the most glaring defects in our form of democracy
was denounced as a traitorous red whose real purpose was the destruction
of our government. This hysteria reached its height under the
leadership of Senator Joseph McCarthy. Demagogues of this sort found
communist bogeys lurking behind any new idea that would run counter
to stereotyped notions. New ideas were dangerous and must be repressed,
no matter how. Those who would suppress dangerous thoughts,
credit ideas with high potency. They give strict interpretation to
William James' statement that "Every idea that enters the mind
tends to express itself". They seem to believe that a person will
act automatically as soon as he contacts something new. Hence, the only
defensible procedure is to repress any and every notion, unless it
gives evidence that it is perfectly safe. Despite this danger,
however, we are informed on every hand that ideas, not machines, are
our finest tools; they are priceless even though they cannot be recorded
on a ledger page; they are the most valuable of commodities-
and the most salable, for their demand far exceeds supply. So all-important
are ideas, we are told, that persons successful in business and
happy in social life usually fall into two classes: those who invent
new ideas of their own, and those who borrow, beg, or steal from others.

Seemingly, with an unrestricted flow of ideas, all will

be well, and we are even assured that "an idea a day will keep the sheriff
away". That, however, may also bring the police, if the thinking
does not meet with social approval. Criminals, as well as model
citizens, exercise their minds. Merely having a mental image of some
sort is not the all-important consideration. Of course, there
must be clarity: a single distinct impression is more valuable than
many fuzzy ones. But clarity is not enough. The writer took a class
of college students to the state hospital for the mentally ill in St&
Joseph, Missouri. An inmate, a former university professor, expounded
to us, logically and clearly, that someone was pilfering his thoughts.
He appealed to us to bring his case to the attention of the authorities
that justice might be done. Despite the clarity of his presentation,
his idea was not of Einsteinian calibre. True, ideas
are important, perhaps life's most precious treasures. But have we
not gone overboard in stressing their significance? Have we not actually
developed idea worship? Ideas we must have, and we seek
them everywhere. We scour literature for them; here we find stored
the wisdom of great minds. But are all these works worthy of consideration?
Can they stand rigid scrutiny? Shakespeare's
wit and wisdom, his profound insight into human nature, have stood the
test of centuries. But was he infallible in all things? What of
his treatment of the Jew in <The Merchant of Venice?>
Shakespeare
gives us a vivid picture of Shylock, but probably he never saw a
Jew, unless in some of his travels. The Jews had been banished from
England in 1290 and were not permitted to return before 1655, when
Shakespeare had been dead for thirty-nine years. If any had escaped
expulsion by hiding, they certainly would not frequent the market-place.

Shakespeare did not usually invent the incidents in his plays,

but borrowed them from old stories, ballads, and plays, wove them
together, and then breathed into them his spark of life. Rather than
from a first-hand study of Jewish people, his delineation of Shylock
stems from a collection of Italian stories, <Il Pecorone>, published
in 1558,
although written almost two centuries earlier. He could
learn at second hand from books, but could not thus capture the real
Jewish spirit. Harris J& Griston, in <Shaking The Dust From
Shakespeare> (216), writes: "There is not a word spoken by Shylock
which one would expect from a real Jew". He took the
story of the pound of flesh and had to fasten it on someone. The Jew
was the safest victim. No Jew was on hand to boycott his financially
struggling theater. It would have been unwise policy, for instance,
to apply the pound-of-flesh characterization to the thrifty Scotchman.
Just as now anyone may hurl insults at a citizen of Mars, or even
of Tikopia, and no senatorial investigation will result. Who cares
about them! Shakespeare does not tell us that Shylock was an
aberrant individual. He sets him forth as being typical of the group.
He tells of his "Jewish heart"- not a Shylockian heart;
but a Jewish heart. This would make anyone crafty and cruel, capable
of fiendish revenge. There is no justification for such misrepresentation.
If living Jews were unavailable for study, the Bible
was at hand. Reading the Old Testament would have shown the dramatist
that the ideas attributed to Shylock were abhorrent to the Jews.
Are we better off for having Shakespeare's idea of Shylock?
Studying <The Merchant of Venice> in high school and college
has given many young people their notions about Jews. Does this help
the non-Jew to understand this group? Thomas de Torquemada,
Inquisitor-General of the Spanish Inquisition, put many persons
to death. His name became synonymous with cold-blooded cruelty. Would
we gain by keeping alive his memory and besmirching today's Roman
Catholics by saying he had a Catholic heart? Let his bones and
his memory rest in the fifteenth century where they belong; he is
out of place in our times. Shakespeare's Shylock, too, is of dubious
value in the modern world. Ideas, in and of themselves, are
not necessarily the greatest good. A successful businessman recently
prefaced his address to a luncheon group with the statement that all
economists should be sent to the hospitals for the mentally deranged where
they and their theories might rot together. Will his words come
to be treasured and quoted through the years? Frequently we
are given assurance that automatically all ideas will be sifted and resifted
and in the end only the good ones will survive. But is that not
like going to a chemistry laboratory and blindly pouring out liquids
and powders from an array of bottles and then, after stirring, expecting
a new wonder drug inevitably to result? What of the efficiency
of this natural instrument of free discussion? Is there some
magic in it that assures results? When Peter B& Kyne
(<Pride of Palomar>, 43) informed us in 1921 that we had an <instinctive>
dislike for the Japanese, did the heated debates of the Californians
settle the truth or falsity of the proposition? <The
Leopard's Spots> came from the pen of Thomas Dixon in 1902,
and in this he announced an "unchangeable" law. If a child had
a single drop of Negro blood, he would revert to the ancestral line which,
except as slaves under a superior race, had not made one step of
progress in 3,000 years. That doctrine has been accepted by many, but
has it produced good results? In the same vein, a certain
short-story plot has been overworked. The son and heir of a prominent
family marries a girl who has tell-tale shadows on the half-moons of
her finger nails. In time she presents her aristocratic husband with
a coal-black child. Is the world better for having this idea thrust upon
it? Will argument and debate decide its truth or falsity?

For answers to such questions we must turn to the anthropologists,

the biologists, the historians, the psychologists, and the sociologists.
Long ago they consigned the notions of Kyne and Dixon to the scrap
heap. False ideas surfeit another sector of our life. For
several generations much fiction has appeared dealing with the steprelationship.
The stepmother, almost without exception, has been presented
as a cruel ogress. Children, conditioned by this mistaken notion,
have feared stepmothers, while adults, by their antagonistic attitudes,
have made the role of the substitute parents a difficult one. Debate
is not likely to resolve the tensions and make the lot of the stepchild
a happier one. Research, on the other hand, has shown many stepmothers
to be eminently successful, some far better than the real mothers.

Helen Deutsch informed us (<The Psychology of Women>,

Vol& /2,, 434) that in all cultures "the term 'stepmother'
automatically evokes deprecatory implications", a conclusion accepted
by many. Will mere debate on that proposition, even though it be
free and untrammeled, remove the dross and leave a residue of refined
gold? That is questionable, to say the least. Research into several
cultures has proven her position to be a mistaken one. Most
assuredly ideas are invaluable. But ideas, just for the sake of having
them, are not enough. In the 1930's, cures for the depression literally
flooded Washington. For a time the President received hundreds
of them every day, most of them worthless. Ideas need to be
tested, and not merely by argument and debate. When some question arises
in the medical field concerning cancer, for instance, we do not
turn to free and open discussion as in a political campaign. We have
recourse to the scientifically-trained specialist in the laboratory. The
merits of the Salk anti-polio vaccine were not established on the
forensic platform or in newspaper editorials, but in the laboratory
and by tests in the field on thousands of children. Our presidential
campaigns provide much debate and argument. But is the result
new barnsful of tested knowledge on the basis of which we can with confidence
solve our domestic and international problems? Man, we are
told, is endowed with reason and is capable of distinguishing good from
bad. But what a super-Herculean task it is to winnow anything of value
from the mud-beplastered arguments used so freely, particularly since
such common use is made of cliches and stereotypes, in themselves
declarations of intellectual bankruptcy. We are reminded, however,
that freedom of thought and discussion, the unfettered exchange
of ideas, is basic under our form of government. Assuredly in
our political campaigns there is freedom to think, to examine any and
all issues, and to speak without restraint. No holds are barred. But
have the results been heartening? May we state with confidence that
in such an exhibition a republic will find its greatest security?

We must not forget, to be sure, that free discussion and debate

have produced beneficial results. In truth, we can say that this broke
the power of Senator Joseph McCarthy, who was finally exposed
in full light to the American people. If he had been "liquidated"
in some way, he would have become a martyr, a rallying point for people
who shared his ideas. Debate in the political arena can be productive
of good. But it is a clumsy and wasteful process: it can produce
negative results but not much that is positive. Debate rid us of
McCarthy but did not give us much that is positive. It did something
to clear the ground, but it erected no striking new structure; it
did not even provide the architect's plan for anything new.
In the field of the natural sciences, scientifically verified data are
quite readily available and any discussion can be shortened with good
results. In the field of the social sciences a considerable fund of
tested knowledge has been accumulated that can be used to good advantage.

By no means would we discourage the production of ideas:

they provide raw materials with which to work; they provide stimulations
that lead to further production. We would establish no censorship.
The President's personality would have opened that office to him.
And for the first time a representative of the highest office in the
land would have been liable to the charge that he had attempted to make
it a successorship by inheritance. It is testimony to the deep respect
in which Mr& Eisenhower was held by members of all parties that
the moral considerations raised by his approach to the matter were
not explicitly to be broached. These began to be apparent in a
press conference held during the second illness in order that the consulting
specialists might clarify the President's condition for the
nation. And if Howard Rutstein felt impelled thereafter to formulate
the ethics of the medical profession, his article in the <Atlantic
Monthly> accomplished a good deal more. It forced us to fix the responsibility
for the position in which all medical commentators had been
placed. The discussion of professional ethics inevitably reminded
us that in the historical perspective the President's decision will
finally clarify itself as a moral, rather than a medical, problem. Because
the responsibility for resolving the issue lay with the President,
rather than with his doctors, nothing raises more surely for us
the difficulties simple goodness faces in dealing with complex moral problems
under political pressure. For the President had dealt with the
matter humbly, in what he conceived as the democratic way. But the
problem is one which gives us the measure of a man, rather than a group
of men, whether a group of doctors, a group of party members assembled
at a dinner to give their opinion, or the masses of the voters.

Any attempt to reconcile this statement of the central issue in

the campaign of 1956 with the nature of the man who could not conceive
it as the central issue will at least resolve our confusions about the
chaotic and misleading results of the earnestness of both doctors and
President in a situation which should never have arisen. It was a
response to the conflict between political pressure and the moral intuition
which resulted in attempts at prediction. In no other situation
would a group of doctors, struggling competently to improve the life
expectancy of a man beloved by the world, be subjected to such merciless
and persistent questioning, and before they were prepared to demonstrate
the kind of verbal precision which alone can clarify for mankind
the problems it faces. And though we can look back now and see their
errors, we can look back also to the ultimate error. It recurred
in the press conferences: the President's remarks about his running
developed a singular tone, one which we find in few statements
made by public individuals on such a matter. The press conference became
a stage which betrayed the drift of his private thinking, rather than
his convictions. He commented- thoughtfully, a reporter told us-
that it was "not too important for the individual how he ends up".
He gave us a simile to explain his admission that even at the worst
period of his second illness it never occurred to him there was any
renewed question about his running: as in the Battle of the Bulge,
he had no fears about the outcome until he read the American newspapers.
Yet the attitude that the fate of the Presidency demands in such
a situation is quite distinct from the simple courage that can proceed
with battles to be fought, regardless of the consequences. In this
case others should not have had to raise the doubts and fears. The
Presidency demands an incisive awareness of the larger implications
of the death of any incumbent. It is of the utmost importance to the
people of America and of the world how their governing President "ends
up" during the four years of his term. Only when that term is
ended and he is a private citizen again can he be permitted the freedom
and the courage to discount the dangers of his death. Ironically enough,
in this instance such personal virtues were a luxury. At
the national and international level, then, what is the highest kind
of morality for the private citizen represents an instance of political
immorality. And we had the uneasy sense that the cleavage between the
moral and the political progressed amid the events which concern us.
For the tone of the editorials which greeted Mr& Eisenhower's
original announcement of his running had been strangely disquieting.
Neither the vibrant enthusiasm which bespeaks a people's intuitive
sense of the fitness of things at climactic moments nor the vital argumentation
betraying its sense that something significant has transpired
was in evidence. Nothing testifies more clearly to that cleavage than
the peculiar editorial page appearing in a July issue of <Life Magazine>,
the issue which also carried the second announcement of the
candidacy. The double editorial on two aspects of "The U& S&
Spirit" was subtly calculated to suggest a moral sanction for gambles
great as well as small, reflecting popular approval of this questionable
attitude toward the highest office in the land. "The Moral
Creed" and "The Will to Risk" live happily together, if we
do not examine where the line is to be drawn. "I may possibly be a
greater risk than is the normal person of my age", the President had
said on February 29th of the election year, ignoring the fact that
no one of his age had ever lived out another term. "My doctors assure
me that this increased percentage of risk is not great". But by
the time the risk was doubled, events had dismissed from his mind both
increased percentages and a previously stated intention of considering
carefully anything more serious than a bout of influenza. Only infrequently
did the situation color his thinking. Ironically no president
we have had would have regretted more than President Eisenhower the
possibility to which his own words, in the press conference held at
the beginning of August, testified: that unable as he was himself
to say his running was best for the country, unconsciously he had placed
his party before his nation. So it is that we relive his opening
statement in the first television address with the dramatic immediacy
of the present. No consideration of risk urges itself upon him
now: for this is what the mind does with the ideas on which it has not
properly focussed. Yet with a mind less shallow, if less sharp, than
some of the fortune-happy syndicates which back him, he feels what
he cannot formulate; and we watch him amid the overtones which suggest
he could never in any conscience urge a risk upon the voters. Moving
as he is into the phase of the campaign which demands conviction of
him, he adopts a position that is morally indefensible. He ascribes
to the mercy of God the peace which this personal matter- the assurance
that he can physically sustain the burden of the office longer
than any individual in the history of our nation has been able to do-
has brought him. What is simply an opinion formed in defiance of the
laws of human probability, whether or not it is later confirmed, has
become by September of the election year "a firm conviction".
As
a means of silencing a discussion which ought to have taken place, the
statement is an effective one: we sympathize with the universal confusion
which gives rise to such convictions. But it is also the climax
to one of the absorbing chapters in our current political history.

In assigning to God the responsibility which he learned could

not rest with his doctors, Eisenhower gave evidence of that weakening
of the moral intuition which was to characterize his administration
in the years to follow. In any other man this reassurance to the electorate
would have caused us a profound moral shock. About this man we
had to think twice. We knew that it was, as reassurance, the ironic
fruit of a deeply moral nature. But the fact remains that even the unconscious
acceptance of himself as a man of destiny divinely protected
must be censored in any man who evades the responsibility for his major
decisions, and thus for imposing his will on the people. And in the
context of drifting personal utterances we have examined, there was
occasional evidence of the origin of all such evasions. When the possibility
that he had not given reconsideration to so weighty a decision
seemed
to disconcert his questioners, Mr& Eisenhower was known to
make his characteristic statement to the press that he was not going
to talk about the matter any more. Thinking had stopped; it was not
to be resumed. The portrait that had developed, fragmentarily
but consistently, was the portrait of a man to whom serious thinking
is alien enough that the making of a decision inhibits, when it does not
forestall, any ability to review the decision in the light of new evidence.
This does not mean that the decision to run for office should
inevitably have been revoked. Instead it means that the thinking in
which decision issues has the power to determine the morality of the
decision, as in this instance the pressure for renewed practical or legislative
attention to the constitutional problems the decision had uncovered
might have done. Drifting through a third illness, apparently
without any provision for the handling of a major national emergency
other than a talk with the vice-president, Eisenhower revealed the singularly
static quality of his thinking. Despite three warnings, no
sense of moral urgency impelled him to distinguish his situation, and
thus his responsibilities, from Wilson's. ##

By contrast, the
energetic reaction of the leader to the full demands his decision imposes
upon him strengthens the moral intuition and gives us the measure
of the man. Only by means of an intensive preoccupation with the detailed
considerations following from any decision can he ensure attention
to the practical details to be dealt with if the implications of immorality
in the major decision are effectively to be checked. In the
incessant struggle with recalcitrant political fact he learns to focus
the essence of a problem in the significant detail, and to articulate
the distinctions which clarify the detail as significant, with what
is sometimes astounding rapidity. Like Lincoln, he can distinguish
his relation to God from the constitutional responsibilities a questionable
decision exacts of him. Like Roosevelt, he can distinguish an
attitude toward a Russian leader he may share with a host of Americans
from the responsibilities diplomatic convention may impose upon him.
He chooses to subordinate one to the other, sometimes reluctantly,
accepting criticism for the lesser immoralities facts breed. The very
nature of a choice so grounded in distinction and fact leads to the
valid convictions which become force of will in the manifest leader.
The capacity for making the distinctions of which diplomacy is compact,
and the facility with language which can render them into validity
in the eyes of other men are the leader's means for transforming the
moral intuition into moral leadership. The making of distinctions,
like the perception of the great distinctions made, is an inordinately
difficult business. Lincoln's slow progress towards the several
marking his achievement is even now unrecognizable as such, and loosely
interpreted as the alternation of inconsistency with vision. But
because it is the function of the mind to turn the one into the other
by means of the capacities with which words endow it, we do not unwisely
examine the type of distinction, in the sphere of politics, on which
decisions hang. Only recently, and perhaps because a television debate
can so effectively dramatize President Kennedy's extraordinary
mastery of detail, have the abilities on which the capacity for making
distinctions depend begun to be clearly discernible at the level of
politics.
In his recent evaluation of Kennedy's potentialities for
leadership, Walter Lippmann has cited the "precision" of his mind,
his "immense command" of factual detail, and his "instinct for
the crucial point" as impressive in the extreme; and it is surely
clear that the first of these is the result of the way in which the
individual's command of language interacts with the other two.
For this change is not a change from one positive position to another,
but a change from order and truth to disorder and negation. The
liberal-conservative
division, we might observe in passing, is not of itself
directly involved in a private interest conflict nor even in struggle
between ruling groups. Rather it is rooted in a difference of response
to the threat of social disintegration. The division is not between
those who wish to preserve what they have and those who want change.
Rather it is a division established by two absolutely different ways
of thought with regard to man's life in society. These ways are
absolutely irreconcilable because they offer two different recipes for
man's redemption from chaos. The civilizational crisis, the
third type of change raises the question "what are we to do"?
on the most primitive level. For the answer cannot be derived from any
socially cohesive element in the disrupting community. There is no
socially existential answer to the question. For the truth formerly experienced
by the community no longer has existential status in the community,
nor does any answer elaborated by philosophers or theoriticians.
In this phase of change, no idea has social acceptance and so none
has ontological status in the community. An interregnum ensues in which
not men but ideas compete for existence. If we examine the
three types of change from the point of view of their internal structure
we find an additional profound difference between the third and the
first two, one that accounts for the notable difference between the
responses they evoke. The first two types of change occur within the
inward and immanent structure of the society. The first involves a simple
shift of interests in the society. The second involves something
deeper, but its characteristic form focuses on a shift in policy for
the community, not in the truth on which the community rests. Thus in
both types attention is focused on the community itself, and its phenomenological
life. The third type, however, wrenches attention from
the life of action and interests in the community and focuses it on the
ground of being on which the community depends for its existence. Voegelin
has analyzed this experience in the case of the stable, healthy
community. There the community, faced with the need to formulate policy
on the level of absolute justice, can find the answer to its problem
in the absolute truth which it holds as partially experienced. This,
however, cannot be done by a community whose very experience of truth
is confused and incoherent: it has no absolute standard, and consequently
cannot distinguish the absolute from the contingent. It has
lost its ground of being and floats in a mist of appearances. Relativism
and equality are its characteristic diseases. Precisely at the moment
when it has lost its vision the mind of the community turns out
from itself in a search for the ontological standard whereby it can measure
itself. For paradigmatic history "breaks" rather than unfolds
precisely when the movement is from order to disorder, and not from
one order to a new order. The liberal-conservative split, to define
it further, derives from a basic difference concerning the existential
status of standard sought and about the spiritual experience that leads
to its identification. When disruptive change has penetrated
to the third level of social order, the process of disruption rapidly
reaches a point of no return. Indeed, it is probable that this point
is reached the moment the third level of change begins. At that point
we reach the "closed" historical situation: the situation in
which man is no longer free to return to a <status quo ante>. At that
point men become aware of the mystery of history called variously "fate",
or "destiny", or "providence", and feel themselves
caught helplessly in the writhing of a disrupted society. The reasons
for this experience are rooted in the metaphysical characteristics of
such a change. Of all forms of being, society, or community,
has the greatest element of determinability. Its ontological status is
itself most tenuous because apart from individual men, who are its "matter",
tradition, the "form" of society exists only as a shared
perception of truth. The ontological status of society thus is constituted
by the psychological-intellectual-volitional status of society's
members. The content of that psychological status determines,
ultimately, the content of civilization. Those social, civilizational
factors not rooted in the human spirit of the group, ultimately cease
to exist. Civilization itself- tradition- falls out of existence
when the human spirit itself becomes confused. Civilization is what
man has made of himself. Its massive contours are rooted in the simple
need of man, since he is always incomplete, to complete himself.

It is not enough for man to be an ontological esse. He needs existential

completion, he needs, that is, to move in the direction of completion.
And the direction of that movement is determined by his perception
of the truth about himself. He must, consequently, exist as a
self-perceived substantive, developing agent, or he does not exist as
man. Thus, it is no mystical intuition, but an analyzable conception
to say that man and his tradition can "fall out of existence". This
happens at the moment man loses the perception of moral substance
in himself, of a nature that, in Maritain's words, is perceived as
a "locus of intelligible necessities". An existentialist is a man
who perceives himself only as "esse", as existence without substance.

Thus human perception and human volition is the immanent

cause of all social change and this most truly when the change reaches
the civilizational level. Thus with regard to the loss of tradition,
in the change from order to disorder the metaphysics of change works
itself out as a disruption of the individual soul, a change in which man
continues as an objective ontological existent, but no longer as a
man. Further, change is a form of motion, it occurs as the act
of a being in potency insofar as it is in potency and has not yet reached
the terminus of the change. With regard to the change we are examining,
the question is, at what point does the change become irreversible?
A number of considerations suggest that this occurs early in
the process. Change involves the displacement of form. This means that
the inception of change itself can begin only when the factors conducive
to change have already become more powerful than those anchoring
the existent form in being. If the existent form is to be retained new
factors that reinforce it must be introduced into the situation. In
the case of social decay, form is displaced simply by the process of
dissolution with no form at the terminus of the process. Now in the
mere fact of the beginning of such displacement we have prima-facie evidence
of the ontological weakness of the fading form. And when we consider
the tenuous hold tradition has on existence, any weakening of that
hold constitutes a crisis of existence. The retention of a tradition
confronted with such a crisis necessitates the introduction of new
spiritual forces into the situation. However, the crisis occurs precisely
as a weakening of spiritual forces. It would seem, therefore, that
in a civilizational crisis man cannot save himself. The emergence
of the crisis itself would seem to constitute a warranty for the victory
of disorder. And it would seem that history is a witness to this
truth. As a further characterization of the liberal conservative
split we may observe that it involves differences in the formula for
escaping inevitabilities in history. These differences, in turn, derive
from prior differences concerning the friendly or hostile character
of change.

#UNANALYZED RESPONSES#

ANXIETY AND DEEP INSECURITY

are the characteristic responses evoked by the crisis in tradition.
To experience them, it is not necessary for a people to be actively
aware of what is happening to it. The process of erosion need only
undermine the tradition and a series of consequences begin unfolding
within the individual, while in institutions a quiet but deep transformation
of processes occurs. Within the individual the reaction has been
called various names, all, however, pointing to the same basic experience.
Weil identifies it as being "rootless", Guardini as being
"placeless", Riesman as being "lonely". Others call it "alienation",
and mean by that no simple economic experience (as Marx
does) but a deep spiritual sense of dislocation. Within institutions
there is a marked decline of the process of persuasion and the substitution
of a force-fear process which masquerades as the earlier one
of persuasion. We note the use of rhetoric as a weapon, the manipulation
of the masses by propaganda, the "mobilization" of effort and
resources. Within this context of spontaneous and unanalyzed
responses to the experience of civilizational crisis, two basic organizations
of response are observable: reaction and ideological progressivism.
These responses are explicable in terms of characteristics inherent
in the crisis. Both are predictably destined to fail. The
response of reaction is dominated by a concern for what is vanishing.
Its essence lies in its attempt to recover previous order through
the repression of disruptive forces. To this end political authority
is called upon to exercise its negative and coercive powers. The implicit
assumption of this response is that history is reversible. Seemingly,
order is perceived as a kind of subsistent entity now covered by
adventitious accretions. The problem is to remove the accretions and
thereby uncover the order that was always there. Such a response, of
course, misses the point that in crisis order is going out of existence.
Moreover its posture of stubborn but simple resistance is doomed
to failure because of the metaphysical weakness of the existent form of
order, once the activation of change has reached visible proportions.
The most reaction can achieve is stasis, and a stasis that can be maintained
only by the expenditure of an effort which ultimately exhausts
itself. Despite the hopelessness of the response, it is explicable
in terms of the crisis of tradition itself. Since a civilizational
crisis involves also a crisis in private interests and in the ruling
class, reaction is normally found among those who feel themselves
to be among the ruling class. Their great error is to mingle the responses
typical of each of the three types of change. Since civilizational
change is the most difficult to perceive and analyze, it seldom is
given adequate attention. And the anxiety it generates is misinterpreted
as anxiety over private interest and threatened social status.

The basic truth in the reactionary response is to be found in its

realistic assumption of the primacy of the real over the ideational.
But this truth is distorted by its extreme application: the assumption
of the separate existence of tradition. The reactionary misses
the point that tradition exists ontologically only in the form of
psychological-intellectual
relations. Reactionary theories, for this reason,
usually assume some form of organismic theory. In its defensive
formulations, the theory will attack conscious change on the grounds of
the independent existence of the community. In its dynamic form, it
visualizes the community as the embodiment of an ontological force-
the race, for instance, which unfolds in history. In both cases the
individual tends to be treated as an instrument of the organic reality.

When the reactionary response is thus bolstered by an intellectual

defense, the characteristics of that defense are explicable only
in terms of the basic attitudes of unanalyzed reaction. Reaction is
rooted in a perception of tradition as a whole. It is a total situation
that is defended: the "good old days". There is no selectivity;
even the questionable features of the past are defended. The point
is that the reactionary, for whatever motive, perceives himself to
have been part or a partner of something that extended beyond himself,
something which, consequently, he was not able to accept or reject
on the basis of subjective preference. The reactionary is confused about
the existential status of a decaying tradition, but he does perceive
the unity tradition had when it was healthy.

All of which brings up another problem in the use of psychoanalytic

insight in a literary work. Is the Oedipus complex, the clinical
syndrome, material for a tragedy? If we remove ourselves for a moment
from our time and our infatuation with mental disease, isn't there
something absurd about a hero in a novel who is defeated by his infantile
neurosis? I am not making a clinical judgment here, for such
personal tragedies are real and are commonplace in the analyst's
consulting room, but literature makes a different claim upon our sympathies
than tragedy in life. A man in a novel who is defeated in his childhood
and condemned by unconscious forces within him to tiredly repeat
his earliest failure in love, only makes us a little weary of man;
his tragedy seems unworthy and trivial. Now we can argue that
the irresistible fate of Oedipus Rex was nothing more than the irresistible
unconscious longings of Oedipus projected outward, but this
externalization of unconscious conflict makes all the difference between
a story and a clinical case history. We can also argue that the
three brothers Karamazov and Smerdyakov were the external representatives
of an internal conflict within one man, Dostoevsky, a conflict
having to
do with father-murder and the wish to possess the father's woman. But
a novel in which one man Karamazov explored the divisions within
his personality would scarcely merit publication in the <Psychoanalytic
Quarterly>. It is a mistake to look upon the Oedipus of
Oedipus Complex as a literary descendant of Oedipus Rex. Whatever
the psychological truth in the Oedipus myth, an Oedipus who is drawn
to his fate by irresistible external forces can carry the symbol of
humanity and its archaic crime, and the incest that is unknowing renews
the mystery of the eternal dream of childhood and absorbs us in the
secret. But a modern Oedipus who is doomed because he cannot oppose
his own childhood is only pathetic, and for renouncing the mystery
in favor of psychological truth he gives up the claim on our sympathies.

I am suggesting that a case-history approach to the Oedipus

complex is a blind alley for a storyteller. The best gifts of the novelist
will be wasted on the reader who is insulated against any surprises
the novelist may have in store for him. Incest is still a durable
theme, but if it wants to get written about it will have to find ways
to surprise the emotions, and there is no better way to do this than
that of concealment and symbolic representation. And the best way to
conceal and disguise the elements of an incest story is not to set out
to write an incest story. Which brings to mind another Lawrence story
and some interesting comparisons in the treatment of the Oedipal
theme. "The Rocking Horse Winner" is also a story about
a boy's love for his mother. If I now risk some comparisons with
<Sons and Lovers> let it be clear that I am not comparing the two
works or judging their merits; I am only singling out differences
in treatment of a theme and the resultant effects. "The Rocking Horse
Winner" is a fantasy with extraordinary power to disturb the
reader- but we do not know why. It is the story of the hopeless love
of a little boy for his cold and vain mother. There are ghostly scenes
in which the little boy on his rocking horse rocks madly toward the
climax that will magically give him the name of the winning horse. The
child grows rich on his winnings and conspires with his uncle to make
secret gifts of his money to his mother. The story ends in the child's
illness and delirium brought on by the feverish compulsion to
ride his horse to win for his mother. The child dies with his mourning
mother at his bedside. I had read the story many times without
asking myself why it affected me or caring why it did. But on one
occasion when I encountered a similar fantasy in a little boy who was
my patient I began to understand the uncanny effects of this story.
It was, of course, a little boy's fantasy of winning his mother to
himself, and replacing the father who could not give her the things she
wanted- a classical oedipal fantasy if you like- but if it were
only this the story would be banal. Why does the story affect us? How
does the rocking exert its uncanny effect upon the reader? The
rocking is actually felt in the story, a terrible and ominous rhythm that
prophesies the tragedy. The rocking, I realized, is the single element
in the story that carries the erotic message, the unspoken and
unconscious undercurrent that would mar the innocence of a child's fantasy
and disturb the effects of the work if it were made explicit. The
rocking has the ambiguous function of keeping the erotic undercurrent
silent and making it present; it conceals and yet is suggestive;
a perfect symbol. And if we understand the rocking as an erotic symbol
we can also see how well it serves as the symbol of impending tragedy.
For this love of the boy for his mother is a hopeless and forbidden
love, doomed by its nature. We are also struck by the fact
that this story of a boy's love for his mother does not offend, while
the incestuous love of the man, Paul Morel, sometimes repels. It's
easy to see why. This love belongs to childhood; we accord it
its place there, and in Lawrence's treatment we are given the innocent
fantasy of a child, in fact, the form in which oedipal love is expressed
in childhood. And when the child dies in Lawrence's story
in a delirium that is somehow brought on by his mania to win and to make
his mother rich, the manifest absurdity of such a disease and such
a death does not enter into our thoughts at all. We have so completely
entered the child's fantasy that his illness and his death are the
plausible and the necessary conclusion. I am sure that none
of the effects of this story were consciously employed by Lawrence to
describe an oedipal fantasy in childhood. It is most probable that
Freud and the Oedipus complex never entered his head in the writing
of this story. He was simply writing a story that wanted to be told,
and in the writing a childhood fantasy of his own emerged. He would not
have cared why it emerged, he only wanted to capture a memory to play
with it again in his imagination and somehow to fix and hold in the
story the disturbing emotions that accompanied the fantasy. In
our own time we have seen that the novelist's debt to psychoanalysis
has increased but that the novel itself has not profited much from
this marriage. Ortega's hope that modern psychology might yet bring
forth a last flowering of the novel has only been partially fulfilled.
The young writer seems intimidated by psychological knowledge; he
has lost confidence in his own eyes and in the validity of his own psychological
insights. He borrows the insights of psychology to improve
his impaired vision but cannot bring to his work the distinctive vision
that should be a novelist's own. He has been seduced by the marvels
of the unconscious and has lost interest in studying the surfaces
of character. If many of the characters in contemporary novels appear
to be the bloodless relations of characters in a case history it is
because the novelist is often forgetful today that those things that
we call character manifest themselves in surface behavior, that the ego
is still the executive agency of personality, and that all we know of
personality must be discerned through the ego. The novelist who has
been badly baptized in psychoanalysis often gives us the impression that
since all men must have an Oedipus complex all men must have the
same faces. #/2,.#

I have argued that Oedipus of the Oedipus

complex has a doubtful future as a tragic figure in literature. But a
writer who has a taste for irony and who sees incest in all its modern
dimensions can let his imagination work on the disturbing joke in the
incest myth, the joke that strikes right at the center of man's humanness.
Moral dread is seen as the other face of desire, and here psychoanalysis
delivers to the writer a magnificent irony and a moral problem
of great complexity. There is probably some significance
in the fact that two of the best incest stories I have encountered
in recent years are burlesques of the incest myth. The ancient types
are reassembled in gloom and foreboding to be irresistibly drawn to their
destinies, but the myth fails before the modern truth; the oracle
speaks false and the dream speaks true. In both the farmer's tale
in Ralph Ellison's <Invisible Man> and in Thomas Mann's <The
Holy Sinner>, the incest hero rises above the myth by accepting
the wish as motive; the heroic act is the casting off of pretense.

Thomas Mann wrote <The Holy Sinner> in 1951. It was conceived

as a leave-taking, a kind of melancholy gathering-in of the myths
of the West, "<bevor die Nacht sinkt, eine lange Nacht vielleicht
und ein tiefes Vergessen>". He chose a medieval legend of
incest, Gregorius vom Stein, and freely borrowed and parodied other
myths of the West, mixing themes, language, peoples and times in a master
myth in which the old forms continually renew themselves, as in his
previous treatment of Joseph. But <The Holy Sinner> is
not simply a retelling of old stories for an old man's entertainment.
Mann understood better than most men the incest comedy at the center
of the myth and the psychological truth in which dread is shown as
the other face as longing was for him just the kind of deep and complicated
joke he liked to tell. And when he retold the legend of Gregorius
he interpolated a modern version in which the medieval players speak
contemporary thoughts in archaic language; while they move through
the pageantry of the ancient incest myth and cover themselves through
not-knowing, they reveal the unconscious motive in seeking each other
and in the last scene make an extraordinary confession of guilt in the
twentieth-century manner. Grigorss is the child of an incestuous
union between a royal brother and sister, the twins Sibylla and
Wiligis. He is born in secrecy after the death of his father and cast
adrift soon after birth. The infant is discovered by a fisherman who
brings him home to rear him. An ivory tablet in the infant's cask
recounts the story of his sinful origins and is preserved for the child
by the monks of a monastery in the fishing village. Grigorss, at
seventeen, learns his story and goes forth as a knight to uncover his
origins. His sailing vessel is guided by fate to the shores of his own
country at a time when Sibylla's domain is overrun by the armies
of one of her rejected suitors. Grigorss overcomes the suitor in battle,
delivers the city from its oppressors and marries Sibylla who had
fallen in love with the beautiful knight the moment she saw him.

Sibylla is pregnant with their second child when she finds the ivory
tablet concealed by her husband, and the identities of mother and son
are revealed. Grigorss goes off to do penance on a rock for seventeen
years. At the end of this period two pious Christians in Rome receive
the revelation which leads them to seek the next Pope on the rock.
Grigorss comes to Rome and becomes a great and beloved Pope. In
the last pages of the book Sibylla comes to Rome to seek an audience
with the great Pope and to give her confession. Mother and son recognize
each other and, in Mann's version of this legend, make a remarkable
confession of guilt to each other, the confession of unconscious
motive and unconscious knowledge of their true identities from the
time they had first set eyes on each other.
In recollection he has said: "Natural or man-made objects kept coming
into my head, but I would suppress them sternly". Moreover,
he organized the movement of his forms, within his rigorously shaped space,
into highly complex equilibriums; and used gradations of color
value as well as sharply contrasting elementary colors. The worthy
Mondrian, seeing these pictures, said in a tone of kindly reproof:
"But you are really an artist of the naturalistic tradition"!
Helion did not realize it at the time, but it was true. His
"monumental" abstraction, made up of smooth, metallic "non-objects"
acting upon each other with great tension, won Helion much
acclaim during the 'thirties. The play of novel lighting effects also
entered into these compositions, whose controlled power and varied
activity made them well worth meditating. As Helion's work
showed more and more nostalgia for the world of man and nature, the pure
abstractionists expressed some disapproval; but Leger, Arp, Lipchitz
and Alexander Calder, at the time, gave him their blessing. His
canvases nowadays bore titles frankly declaring them to be "Figures
in Space", or "Blue Figure", or "Pink Figure"; and
they had (vaguely) heads and feet. Exhibited in shows in London in
1935, and in New York the following year, the new, more elaborated
abstracts were much favored in the circles of the modernists as three-dimentional
dramas of great intellectual coherence. At this period
the thirty-year old Helion was ranked "as one of the mature leaders
of the modern movement", according to Herbert Read, "and in the
direct line of descent from Cezanne, Seurat, Gris and Leger". In
America, Meyer Schapiro observed that, unlike the Mondrian school,
Helion "sought a return path to the fullness of nature within the
framework of abstract art". It is notable that at this time
he was writing with admiration of Cimabue's and Poussin's way
of filling space. Abstract art was still the right path for him; but,
he
held, instead of continuing as an "art of reduction", it must grow,
must make a place for the contributions of the Raphaels and Poussins
as well as for those of the early cubists and Mondrian. Later
Helion wrote of this phase: "For years I built for myself
a subtle instrument of relationships- colors and forms without a name.
I played on it my secret songs, unexplained, passionate and peaceful".

But his own work was evolving further. The extreme limitations
he sensed in all current abstract art made that seem to him increasingly
arid and cold. He was engaged in constant experiments that
searched for new directions. Where would it all lead? He himself
did not know, as he said in 1935. But he was "afraid of the future-
he would in fact welcome a way back to social integration, a functional
art of some kind". During the 1920's the Abstractionists,
the German Bauhaus group of industrial designers, and the new
architects all had the dream of some well ordered utopia, or welfare
state, in which their neat and logical constructions might find their
proper place. But whereas the postwar American abstractionists seem
to Helion to be determined to "escape" from the real world, or simply
to rebel against it, the <ordered> abstractions which he and his
associates of the 1930's were painting embodied the hope of "improving"
things. "We were possessed by visions of a new civilization
to come, very pure and elevated", he has said, "in fact some ideal
form of socialism such as we had dreamed of since the war of 1914-1918".

Instead of this the 1930's witnessed a tragic economic

depression, the rise of Fascist dictators in Europe, the wasting
Civil War in Spain. Very much the political man, Helion felt himself
deeply affected by the increasingly pessimistic atmosphere of France
and all Europe, whose foundations seemed to him more and more shaky.
In 1936 he decided to migrate to America. The Rooseveltian America
was a haven of liberalism and progress and seemed to him to constitute
the last best hope for civilization. Helion also hoped that
America's mastery of technology and industrial efficiency would be
accompanied by the production of new and beautiful art works. "I arrived
in the United States with the idea of establishing myself there
more or less permanently and finding inspiration for new compositions".

In New York he was well received by what was then only

a small brave band of non-figurative artists, including Alexander Calder,
George K& L& Morris, De Kooning, Holty and a few others.
After a year in a studio on Sheridan Square, having married an
American girl who was a native of Virginia, Helion moved to a village
in the Blue Ridge mountains, where he produced some of the most
imposing of his abstract canvases. The darkening world scene,
at the time of the Munich Pact, continued to trouble his mind even in
his remote Virginia studio. "Fear possessed me, and the certainty
of war", he has related. "I truly smelled blood, death, heaps of
corpses everywhere". In haste he labored to finish some last abstract
paintings: a three-panel frieze, with a flying figure and a fallen
figure; a "Double-Figure", which went to the Chicago Art
Institute, and is considered by him the most successful of his abstracts;
and in early 1939, a "Fallen Figure" of very ominous character,
which concluded his abstract phase. "I knew I was carrying
on with abstraction to its very end- for me", he said of the two
years' output in Virginia. With those paintings of big constructions
crashing down, he felt he could stop. They were, in effect his last
testament to non-objective art. He had taken out first papers
for American citizenship; but after war came to Europe, he decided
to return to France, arriving there in January, 1940. "I hated
the war", he said, "but thought I ought to go because I was, perhaps,
one of those who hadn't done enough to prevent it". ##

In June, 1940, Sergeant Helion, with a company of reserve troops waiting

to go into battle, was sketching the hills south of the Loire
River, when the war suddenly rolled in upon him. Its first apparition
was a long, gloomy column of refugees riding in farm wagons, or pushing
prams. His company then carried out a confused retreating movement
until it was surrounded by the Germans, a few days before France capitulated.
After a sort of death march during four days without food,
Helion and his comrades were shipped by cattle-car to a labor camp
at an estate farm in East Germany. A year later they were removed to
a Stalag in the harbor of Stettin. At the time of his capture Helion
had on his person a sketchbook he had bought at Woolworth's in
New York. When he was stripped, deloused and numbered by his guards,
his much-thumbed sketchbook was seized and thrown on a pile of prisoners'
goods to be confiscated. "It was then I knew that they were
making war against Man, the individual within!- who questioned
things when given orders". At Stettin the university-educated
artist, who had studied German, was chosen to serve as interpreter
and clerk in the office of the Stalag commander. In secret he also
acted as a member of the prisoners' Central Committee, which plotted
sabotage, planned a few escapes, and maintained a hidden control over
the wretched French slave-laborers. In the Stalag, Helion
came to know and love his comrades, most of them plain folk, who, in
their extremity, showed true courage and ran great risks to help each
other. How much they esteemed him is shown by the fact that their underground
committee selected him as one of the few who would be helped
to escape. In the prison camp's Black Market civilian clothes were
quietly bought and forged papers were devised for him; during long
weeks the plan for his flight was rehearsed. Every morning
contingents of prisoners would be sent out to labor in nearby factories.
One evening, while a volley-ball game was being played in the yard
among the prisoners remaining there, a simulated melee was staged-
just as the gates were opened to admit other prisoners returning from
work. As Helion wrote afterward: " Their sentry followed
**h Four hands were stretched toward me by my comrades behind me. Marquet
held my briefcase; Finot held a wallet with my money and papers;
Moineau and David held nothing but their fingers **h They felt
rough and kind and warm. At this moment the volley-ball hit the ground.
Duclos ran toward Desprez with fists raised. The guards all
rushed up to intervene **h" Shedding his prison cloak, Helion
shot through the gates, now clad in civilian garments and with the
passport of a Flemish worker. Riding trains, hitching hikes on trucks
across Germany, slipping through guarded frontiers with the help of
secret guides, he eventually reached Vichy France, and, by the winter
of 1943, was back in Virginia. He wrote: " To escape from
a prison camp required a very special state of mind; not only loathing
of captivity, but a faith, a hope that is even stronger. I left
behind me brave men, whom captivity had robbed of all hope. They too
loved their families, longed for their villages: yet lacked the faith
that drove one to dare **h the fearful chance of escape".
It was a time of revelations for him. Even the most rational of men,
under great stress, may be transported by a new faith and behave like
mystics. Helion knew that he owed his freedom as much to the self-sacrifice
of his fellow-men in Arbeitskommando /13,, Stettin, as to
his own fierce
will and love of life. After that, he declared, "to return to
freedom was to fall to one's knees before the real world and adore
it". In prison he had been able to sketch nothing but figures from
life, his guards, his companions in misery. Now all his desires centered
on "rediscovering and singing of the prosaic and yet beautiful
world of men and objects so long barred from me by a barbed wire fence".
And, he added: "During the many months in prison camp, all
abstract images vanished from my mind". Before leaving for America,
he happened to see his old friend Jean Arp and confided to
him his new resolutions. Arp protested: "But it is impossible!
Everything in the way of representation has already been done by the
old masters". Helion, however, clung to the belief that "in escaping
from the Stalag I had also escaped from Abstraction".

While convalescing in his Virginia home he wrote a book recording

his prison experiences and escape, entitled: <They Shall Not Have
Me> **h Published originally in (Helion's) English by Dutton
+ Co& of New York, in 1943, the book was received by the press
as a work of astonishing literary power and one of the most realistic
accounts of World War /2, from the French side. It was very widely
read, too; and the author, who seemed the embodiment of France's
rising spirit of resistance to her conquerors, was much complimented
for his daring military action. But when he showed his new figurative
pictures to his artist friends of the abstract camp, they paid him
no compliments and drew long faces. Between 1944 and 1947 Helion
had a series of one-man shows- at the Paul Rosenberg Gallery
in New York and in Paris- of his new realistic pictures. They reincarnated
the figures of human beings banished from his canvases since
the 1920's. These new pictures focussed on the familiar and commonplace
objects that he had heard the men in his prison camp talking
about as the things they missed most, hence associated with the sense
of lost freedom: the cafe at the corner, the newspaper kiosk, the girls
in doorways and windows along the street, the golden-crusted French
bread they lacked, the cigarettes denied them. One of the pictures
was of a man with hat drawn over his face ceremoniously lighting a cigarette;
others were of men doffing their hats to each other, carrying
umbrellas with pomp, reading newspapers, or simply showing loaves of
bread spread out.

Important as was Mr& O'Donnell's essay, his thesis is

so restricting as to deny Faulkner the stature which he obviously has.
He and also Mr& Cowley and Mr& Warren have fallen to the temptation
which besets many of us to read into our authors- Nathaniel
Hawthorne, for example, and Herman Melville- protests against
modernism, material progress, and science which are genuine protests of
our own but may not have been theirs. Faulkner's total works today,
and in fact those of his works which existed in 1946 when Mr& Cowley
made his comment, or in 1939, when Mr& O'Donnell wrote his
essay, reveal no such simple attitude toward the South. If he is a
traditionalist, he is an eclectic traditionalist. If he condemns the
recent or the present, he condemns the past with no less force. If he
sees the heroic in a Sartoris or a Sutpen, he sees also- and he
shows- the blind and the mean, and he sees the Compson family disintegrating
from within. If the barn-burner's family produces a Flem
Snopes, who personifies commercialism and materialism in hyperbolic
crassness, the Compson family produces a Jason Compson /4,. Faulkner
is a most untraditional traditionalist. Others writing on
Faulkner have found the phrase "traditional moralist" either inadequate
or misleading. Among them are Frederick J& Hoffman, William
Van O'Connor, and Mrs& Olga Vickery. They have indicated
the direction but they have not been explicit enough, I believe, in
pointing out Faulkner's independence, his questioning if not indeed
challenging the Southern tradition. Faulkner's is not the mind
of the apologist which Mr& O'Donnell implies that it is. He is
not one to remain more comfortably and unquestioningly within a body
of social, cultural, or literary traditions than he was within the traditions-
or possibly the regulations- governing his tenure in the
post office at Oxford, Mississippi, thirty-five years ago. That
is not to deny that he has been aware of traditions, of course, that
he is steeped in them, in fact, or that he has dealt with them, in
his books. It is to say rather, I believe, that he has brought to bear
on the history, the traditions, and the lore of his region a critical,
skeptical mind- the same mind which has made of him an inveterate
experimenter in literary form and technique. He has employed from
his section rich immediate materials which in a loose sense can be termed
Southern. The fact that he has cast over those materials the light
of a skeptical mind does not make him any the less Southern, I rather
think, for the South has been no more solid than other regions except
in the political and related areas where patronage and force and
intimidation and fear may produce a surface uniformity. Some of us might
be inclined to argue, in fact, that an independence of mind and action
and an intolerance of regimentation, either mental or physical,
are particularly Southern traits. There is no necessity, I suppose,
to assert that Mr& Faulkner is Southern. It would not be
easy to discover a more thoroughly Southern pedigree than that of his
family. And, after all, he has lived comfortably at both Oxford, Mississippi,
and Charlottesville, Virginia. The young William Faulkner
in New Orleans in the 1920's impressed the novelist Hamilton
Basso as obviously conscious of being a Southerner, and there is no
evidence that since then he has ever considered himself any less so.
Besides showing no inclination, apparently, to absent himself from his
native region even for short periods, and in addition writing a shelf
of books set in the region, he has handled in those books an astonishingly
complete list of matters which have been important in the South
during the past hundred years. It is more difficult with Faulkner
than with most authors to say what is the extent and what is
the source of his knowledge. His own testimony is that he has read very
little in the history of the South, implying that what he knows of
that history has come to him orally and that he knows the world around
him primarily from his own unassisted observation. His denials of extensive
reading notwithstanding, it is no doubt safe to assume that he
has spent time schooling himself in Southern history and that he has
gained some acquaintance with the chief literary authors who have lived
in the South or have written about the South. To believe otherwise
would be unrealistic. But in looking at Faulkner against
his background in Mississippi and the South, it is important not to
lose the broader perspective. His earliest work reflected heavy influences
from English and continental writers. Evidence is plentiful that
early
and later also he has been indebted to the Gothic romancers,
who deal in extravagant horror, to the symbolists writing at the end
of the preceding century, and in particular to the stream-of-consciousness
novelists, Henry James and James Joyce among them. His repeated
experimentation with the techniques of fiction testifies to an independence
of mind and an originality of approach, but it also shows him
touching at many points the stream of literary development back of him.
My intention, therefore, is not to say that Faulkner's awareness
has been confined within the borders of the South, but rather that
he has looked at his world as a Southerner and that presumably his outlook
is Southern. The ingredients of Faulkner's novels and
stories are by no means new with him, and most of the problems he takes
up have had the attention of authors before him. A useful comment
on his relation to his region may be made, I think, by noting briefly
how in handling Southern materials and Southern problems he has deviated
from the pattern set by other Southern authors while remaining
faithful to the essential character of the region. The planter
aristocracy has appeared in literature at least since John Pendleton
Kennedy published <Swallow-Barn> in 1832 and in his genial portrait
of Frank Meriwether presiding over his plantation dominion initiated
the most persistent tradition of Southern literature. The thoroughgoing
idealization of the planter society did not come, however,
until after the Civil War when Southern writers were eager to defend
a way of life which had been destroyed. As they looked with nostalgia
to a society which had been swept away, they were probably no more
than half-conscious that they painted in colors which had never existed.
Their books found no less willing readers outside than inside the
South, even while memories of the war were still sharp. The tradition
reached its apex, perhaps, in the works of Thomas Nelson Page toward
the end of the century, and reappeared undiminished as late as 1934
in the best-selling novel <So Red the Rose>, by Stark Young.
Although Faulkner was the heir in his own family to this tradition,
he did not have Stark Young's inclination to romanticize and sentimentalize
the planter society. The myth of the Southern plantation
has had only a tangential relation with actuality, as Francis
Pendleton Gaines showed forty years ago, and I suspect it has had a
far narrower acceptance as something real than has generally been supposed.
Faulkner has found it useful, but he has employed it with his
habitual independence of mind and skeptical outlook. Without saying or
seeming to say that in portraying the Sartoris and the Compson families
Faulkner's chief concern is social criticism, we can say nevertheless
that through those families he dramatizes his comment on the
planter dynasties as they have existed since the decades before the Civil
War. It may be that in this comment he has broken from the conventional
pattern more violently than in any other regard, for the treatment
in his books is far removed from even the genial irony of Ellen
Glasgow, who was the only important novelist before him to challenge
the conventional picture of planter society. Faulkner's low-class
characters had but few counterparts in earlier Southern novels
dealing with plantation life. They have an ancestry extending back,
however, at least to 1728, when William Byrd described the Lubberlanders
he encountered in the back country of Virginia and North Carolina.
The chief literary antecedents of the Snopes clan appeared in the
realistic, humorous writing which originated in the South and the
Southwest in the three decades before the Civil War. These narratives
of coarse action and crude language appeared first in local newspapers,
as a rule, and later found their way between book covers, though
rarely into the planters' libraries beside the morocco-bound volumes
of Horace, Mr& Addison, Mr& Pope, and Sir Walter Scott.
There is evidence to suggest, in fact, that many authors of the humorous
sketches were prompted to write them- or to make them as indelicate
as they are- by way of protesting against the artificial refinements
which had come to dominate the polite letters of the South. William
Gilmore Simms, sturdy realist that he was, pleaded for a natural
robustness such as he
found in his favorites the great Elizabethans,
to vivify the pale writings being produced around him. Simms admired
the raucous tales emanating from the backwoods, but he had himself social
affiliations which would not allow him to approve them fully. Augustus
Baldwin Longstreet, a preacher and a college and university president
in four Southern states, published the earliest of these backwoods
sketches and in the character Ransy Sniffle, in the accounts of
sharp horse-trading and eye-gouging physical combat, and in the shockingly
unliterary speech of his characters, he set an example followed
by many after him. Others who wrote of low characters and low
life included Thomas Bangs Thorpe, creator of the Big Bear of Arkansas
and Tom Owen, the Bee-Hunter; Johnson Jones Hooper, whose
character Simon Suggs bears a close kinship to Flem Snopes in
both his willingness to take cruel advantage of all and sundry and the
sharpness with which he habitually carried out his will; and George
Washington Harris, whose Tennessee hillbilly character Sut Lovingood
perpetrated more unmalicious mischief and more unintended pain
than any other character in literature. It would be profitable, I believe,
to read these realistic humorists alongside Faulkner's works,
the thought being not that he necessarily read them and owed anything
to them directly, but rather that they dealt a hundred years ago with
a class of people and a type of life which have continued down to our
time, to Faulkner's time. Such a comparison reminds us that in employing
low characters in his works Faulkner is recording actuality
in the South and moreover is following a long-established literary precedent.
Such characters, with their low existence and often low morality,
produce humorous effects in his novels and tales, as they did in
the writing of Longstreet and Hooper and Harris, but it need not be
added that he gives them far subtler and more intricate functions than
they had in the earlier writers; nor is there need to add that among
them are some of the most highly individualized and most successful
of his characters. One of the early humorists already mentioned,
Thomas Bangs Thorpe, can be used to illustrate another point
where Faulkner touches authentic Southern materials and also earlier
literary treatment of those materials. Thorpe came to Louisiana from
the East as a young man prepared to find in the new country the setting
of romantic adventure and idealized beauty. But Thorpe saw also
the hardships of pioneer existence, the cultural poverty of the frontier
settlements, and the slack morality which abounded in the new regions.
As a consequence of the tensions thus produced in his thoughts and
feelings, he wrote on the one hand sketches of idealized hunting trips
and on the other an anecdote of the village of Hardscrabble, Arkansas,
where no one had ever seen a piano; and he wrote also the masterpiece
of frontier humor, "The Big Bear of Arkansas", in which
earthy realism is placed alongside the exaggeration of the backwoods
tall-tale and the awe with which man contemplates the grandeur and the
mysteries of nature.

SOME years ago Julian Huxley proposed to an audience made

up of members of the British Association for the Advancement of
Science that "man's supernormal or extra-sensory faculties are [now]
in the same case as were his mathematical faculties during the ice
age". As a Humanist, Dr& Huxley interests himself in the possibilities
of human development, and one thing we can say about this
suggestion, which comes from a leading zoologist, is that, so far as he
is concerned, the scientific outlook places no rigid limitation upon
the idea of future human evolution. This text from Dr& Huxley
is sometimes used by enthusiasts to indicate that they have the permission
of the scientists to press the case for a wonderful unfoldment
of psychic powers in human beings. There may be a case of this sort,
but it is not one we wish to argue, here. Even if people do, in a
not far distant future, begin to read one another's minds, there will
still be the question of whether what you find in another man's mind
is especially worth reading- worth more, that is, than what you can
read in good books. Even if men eventually find themselves able to
look through walls and around corners, one may question whether this
will help them to live better lives. There would be side-conclusions
to be drawn, of course; such capacities are impressive evidence pointing
to a conception of the human being which does not appear in the accounts
of biologists and organic evolutionists; but the basic puzzles
of existence would still be puzzling, and we should still have to work
out the sort of problems we plan to discuss in this article.

All we want from Dr& Huxley's statement is the feeling that this
is an open world, in the view of the best scientific opinion, with
practically no directional commitments as to what may happen next, and
no important confinements with respect to what may be possible.

It seems quite obvious that all the really difficult tasks of human
beings arise from the fact that man is not one, but many. Each man,
that is, is both one and many. He is a dreamer of the good society with
a plan to put into effect, and he is an individual craftsman with
something to make for himself and the people of his time. He is a parent
with a child to nurture, here and now, and he is an educator who worries
about the children half way round the world. He is a utopian with
a stake in tomorrow and he is a vulnerable human made captive by the
circumstances of today. He can sacrifice himself for tomorrow and
he can sacrifice tomorrow for himself. He is a Craig's wife who agonizes
about tobacco ash on the living room rug and he is a forgetful
genius who goes boating with the town baker when dignitaries from the
local university have come to call. He is the stern guardian of the status
quo who has raised the utilitarian structures of the age, and he
is the revolutionary poet with a gun in his hand who writes a tragic
apologetic to posterity for the men he has killed. What will be
the final symmetry of the good society? For what do the utopians
labor? Here, on a desk, is a stack of pamphlets representing the efforts
of some of the best men of the day to penetrate these questions.
The pamphlets are about law, the corporation, forms of government, the
idea of freedom, the defense of liberty, the various lethargies which
overtake our major institutions, the gap between traditional social
ideals and the working mechanisms that have been set in motion for their
realization. The thing that is notable in all these discussions is
the lack of ideological ardor. There is another kind of ardor, a quiet,
sure devotion to the fundamental decencies of human life, but no
angry utopian contentions. Actually, you could wish for some passion,
now and then, but when you look around the world and see the little volcanos
of current history which partisan social passions have wrought,
you are glad that in these pamphlets there is at least some civilized
calm. You could also say that in these pamphlets is a relieving
quality of maturity. There is essential pleasantness in reading the
writing of men who are not angry, who can contend without quarreling.
This is the good kind of sophistication, and with all our problems
and crises this kind of sophistication has flowered in the United States
during recent years. A characteristic expression of such concern
and inquiry is found in Joseph P& Lyford's introduction to <The
Agreeable Autocracies,> a recent paperback study of the institutions
of modern democratic society. Mr& Lyford gives voice to a temper
that represents, we think, an achieved plateau of reflective thinking.
After casting about for a way of describing this spirit, we decided
that it would be better to use Mr& Lyford's introduction as
an illustration. He begins: " At one time it seemed as if
the Soviet Union had done us a favor by providing a striking example
of how not to behave towards other peoples and other nations. As
things turned out, however, we have not profited greatly from the lesson:
instead of persistently following a national program of our own
we have often been satisfied to be against whatever Soviet policy seemed
to be at the moment. Such activity may or may not have irritated
the Kremlin, but it has frequently condemned America to an unnatural
defensiveness that has undermined our effort to give leadership to the
free world. The defensiveness has been exaggerated by another
bad habit, our tendency to rate the "goodness" or "badness"
of other nations by the extent to which they applaud the slogans we circulate
about ourselves. Since the slogans have little application to
reality and are sanctimonious to boot, the applause is faint even in areas
of the world where we should expect to find the greatest affection
for free government. Shocked at the response to our proclamations,
we grow more defensive, and worse, we lose our sense of humor and proportion.
Mr& Nehru is subjected to stern lectures on neutralism by
our Department of State, and an American President observes sourly
that Sweden would be a little less neurotic if it were a little more
capitalistic". One thing you can say about Mr& Lyford is
that he does not suffer from any insecurity as an American. Those
who are insecure fear to be candid in self-examination. Only the strong
look squarely at weakness. The maturity in this point of view lies
in its recognition that no basic problem is ever solved without being
clearly understood. Mr& Lyford continues: " Even if the
self portrait we distribute for popular consumption were accurate it
would be dangerous to present it as a picture of the ideal society. We
would be ignoring the special circumstances of other countries. The
picture is the more treacherous when it misrepresents the facts of American
life. The discrepancy between what we commonly profess and what
we practice or tolerate is great, and it does not escape the notice
of others. If our sincerity is granted, and it is granted, the discrepancy
can only be explained by the fact that we have come to believe
hearsay and legend about ourselves in preference to an understanding
gained by earnest self-examination. What is more, the legends have become
so sacrosanct that the very habit of self-examination or self-criticism
smells of low treason, and men who practice it are defeatists and
unpatriotic scoundrels. **h although we continue to pay our
conversational devotions to "free private enterprise", "individual
initiative", "the democratic way", "government of the people",
"competition of the marketplace", etc&, we live rather comfortably
in a society in which economic competition is diminishing in
large areas, bureaucracy is corroding representative government, technology
is weakening the citizen's confidence in his own power to make
decisions, and the threat of war is driving him economically and physically
into the ground". The interesting thing about Mr&
Lyford's approach, and the approach of the contributors to <The
Agreeable Autocracies> (Oceana Publications, 1961) to the situation
of American civilization, is that it is concerned with comprehending
the psychological relationships which are having a decisive effect
on American life. In an ideological argument, the participants tend
to thump the table. They are determined to <prove> something. The
new spirit, so well illustrated by Mr& Lyford's work, is wholly
free of this anxiety. The problem is rather to find out what is actually
happening, and this is especially difficult for the reason that "we
are busily being defended from a knowledge of the present, sometimes
by the very agencies- our educational system, our mass media, our
statesmen- on which we have had to rely most heavily for understanding
of ourselves". The Introduction continues: " We experience
a vague uneasiness about events, a suspicion that our political
and economic institutions, like the genie in the bottle, have escaped
confinement and that we have lost the power to recall them. We feel
uncomfortable at being bossed by a corporation or a union or a television
set, but until we have some knowledge about these phenomena and
what they are doing to us, we can hardly learn to control them. It does
not appear that we will be delivered from our situation by articles
on The National Purpose. <The Agreeable Autocracies>
is an attempt to explore some of the institutions which both reflect
and determine the character of the free society today. The men who
speculate on these institutions have, for the most part, come to at least
one common conclusion: that many of the great enterprises and associations
around which our democracy is formed are in themselves autocratic
in nature, and possessed of power which can be used to frustrate
the citizen who is trying to assert his individuality in the modern
world". These institutions which Mr& Lyford names "agreeable
autocracies"- where did they come from? Of one thing we
can be sure: they were not sketched out by the revolutionary theorists
of the eighteenth century who formulated the political principles
and originally shaped the political institutions of what we term the "free
society". No doubt there are historians who can explain to a
great extent what happened to the plans and projects of the eighteenth
century. Going back over this ground and analyzing the composition
of forces which have created the present scene is one of the tasks undertaken
by the Center for the Study of Democratic Institutions, in
Santa Barbara. But however we come, finally, to explain and account
for the present, the truth we are trying to expose, right now, is that
the makers of constitutions and the designers of institutions find
it difficult if not impossible to anticipate the behavior of the host
of all their enterprises. The host is the flowing life of the human race.
This life has its own currents and rhythms, its own multiple cycles
and adaptations. On occasion it produces extraordinary novelties.
Should Rousseau have been able to leave room in his social theory
for the advent of television, atomic energy, and ~IBM machines?
How would Thomas Jefferson feel after reading <Factories in the
Field?> They tell us, sir, that we are free, because we have in one
hand a ballot, and in the other a stock certificate. With these we
shape our destiny and own private property, and that, sir, makes ours
the best of all possible societies. The reality of the situation, however,
is described by Mr& Lyford: " Many of us may even
be secretly relieved at having a plausible excuse to delegate ancient
civic responsibilities to a new bureaucracy of experts. Thus the member
of an industrial union comes to regard his officers as business
agents who may proceed without interference or recall; the stockholder
delivers his proxy; and the citizen narrows his political participation
to the mere act of voting- if he votes at all".
Copernicus did not question it, Ptolemy could not. Given the conceptual
context within which ancient thought thrived, how could anyone have
questioned this principle? The reasons for this are partly observational,
partly philosophical, and reinforced by other aesthetic and
cultural factors. First, the observational reasons. <The> obvious
natural fact to ancient thinkers was the diurnal rotation of the
heavens. Not only did constellations like Draco, Cepheus, and Cassiopeia
spin circles around the pole, but stars which were not circumpolar
rose and set at the same place on the horizon each night. Nor did
a constellation's stars vary in brightness during the course of their
nocturnal flights. The conclusion- the distances of the constellations
did not vary and their paths were circular. Moreover, the sun's
path over earth described a segment of a great circle; this was
clear from the contour of the shadow traced by a gnomon before and after
noon. As early as the /6,th century B&C& the earth
was seen to be spherical. Ships disappear hull-first over the horizon;
approaching shore their masts appeared first. Earth, being at
the center of the universe, would have the same shape as the latter;
so, e&g& did Aristotle argue, although this may not be an <observational>
reason in favor of circularity. The discoid shapes of
sun and moon were also felt to indicate the shape of celestial things.

In light of all this, one would require <special> reasons for

saying that the paths of the heavenly bodies were other than circular.
Why, for example, should the ancients have supposed the diurnal rotation
of the heavens to be elliptical? Or oviform? Or angular?
There were no reasons for such suppositions then. This, conjoined
with the considerations above, made the circular motions of heavenly
bodies appear an almost directly observed fact. Additional philosophical
considerations, advanced notably by Aristotle, supported further
the circularity principle. By distinguishing superlunary (celestial)
and sublunary (terrestrial) existence, and reinforcing this with
the four-element physics of Empedocles, Aristotle came to speak of
the stars as perfect bodies, which moved in only a perfect way, viz&
in a perfect circle. Now what is perfect motion? It must,
apparently, be motion without termini. Because motion which begins and
ends at discrete places would (e&g& for Aristotle) be incomplete.
Circular motion, however, since it is eternal and perfectly continuous,
lacks termini. It is never motion towards something. Only imcomplete,
imperfect things move towards what they lack. Perfect, complete
entities, if they move at all, do not move towards what they lack.
They move only in accordance with what is in their natures. Thus, circular
motion is itself one of the essential characteristics of completely
perfect celestial existence. To return now to the four-element
physics, a mixture of muddy, frothy water will, when standing in
a jar, separate out with earth at the bottom, water on top, and the
air on top of that. A candle alight in the air directs its flame and
smoke upwards. This gives a clue to the cosmical order of elements.
Thus earth has fallen to the center of the universe. It is covered (partly)
with water, air is atop of that. Pure fire (the stars) is in
the heavens. When combined with the metaphysical notion that pure forms
of this universe are best appreciated when least embodied in a material
substratum, it becomes clear that while earth will be dross on a
scale of material-formal ratios, celestial bodies will be of a subtle,
quickened, ethereal existence, in whose embodiment pure form will be
the dominant component and matter will be absent or remain subsidiary.

The stars constitute an order of existence different from what

we encounter on earth. This is clear when one distinguishes the types
of motion appropriate to both regions. A projectile shot up from earth
returns rectlinearly to its 'natural' place of rest. But the
natural condition for the heavenly bodies is neither rest, nor rectilinear
motion. Being less encumbered by material embodiments they partake
more of what is divine. Their motion will be eternal and perfect.

Let us re-examine the publicized contrasts between Ptolemaic

and Copernican astronomy. Bluntly, there never was a Ptolemaic <system>
of astronomy. Copernicus' achievement was to have <invented>
systematic astronomy. The <Almagest> and the <Hypotheses> outline
Ptolemy's conception of his own task as the provision of computational
tables, independent calculating devices for the prediction
of future planetary perturbations. Indeed, in the Halma edition of Theon's
presentation of the <Hypotheses> there is a chart setting
out (under six distinct headings) otherwise unrelated diagrams for describing
the planetary motions. No attempt is made by Ptolemy to weld
into a single scheme (<a la> Aristotle), these independent predicting-machines.
They all have this in common: the earth is situated
near the center of the deferent. But that one should superimpose all
these charts, run a pin through the common point, and then scale each
planetary deferent larger and smaller (to keep the epicycles from 'bumping'),
this is contrary to any intention Ptolemy ever expresses.
He might even suppose the planets to move at infinity. Ptolemy's
problem is to forecast where, against the inverted bowl of night, some
particular light will be found at future times. His problem concerns
longitudes, latitudes, and angular velocities. The distances of these
points of light is a problem he cannot master, beyond crude conjectures
as to the orderings of the planetary orbits viewed outward from earth.
But none of this has prevented scientists, philosophers, and even
historians of science, from speaking of the Ptolemaic <system,> in
contrast to the Copernican. This is a mistake. It is engendered by
confounding the Aristotelian cosmology in the <Almagest> with the
geocentric astronomy. Ptolemy recurrently denies that he could
ever <explain> planetary motion. This is what necessitates the nonsystematic
character of his astronomy. So when textbooks, like that
of Baker set out drawings of the 'Ptolemaic System', complete
with earth in the center and the seven heavenly bodies epicyclically arranged
on their several deferents, we have nothing but a misleading /20,th-century
idea of what never existed historically. It is
the chief merit in Copernicus' work that all his planetary calculations
are <interdependent>. He cannot, e&g& compute the retrograde
arc traveled by Mars, without also making suppositions about the
earth's own motion. He cannot describe eclipses without entertaining
some form of
a three-body problem. In Ptolemaic terms, however, eclipses
and retrograde motion were <phenomena simpliciter,> to be explained
directly as possible resultants of epicyclical combinations. In a
<systematic> astronomy, like that of Copernicus, retrogradations become
part of the conceptual structure of the system; they are no longer
a puzzling aspect of intricately variable, local planetary motions.

Another contrast stressed when discussing Ptolemaic vs&

Copernican astronomy, turns on the idea of <simplicity>. It is often
stated that Copernican astronomy is 'simpler' than Ptolemaic.
Some even say that this is the reason for the ultimate acceptance of
the former. Thus, Margenau remarks: "A large number of unrelated
epicycles was needed to explain the observations, but otherwise the
[Ptolemaic] system served well and with quantitative precision. Copernicus,
by placing the sun at the center of the planetary universe,
was able to reduce the number of epicycles from eighty-three to seventeen.
Historical records indicate that Copernicus was unaware of the
fundamental aspects of his so-called 'revolution', unaware perhaps
of its historical importance, he rested content with having produced
a <simpler> scheme for prediction. As an illustration of the principle
of simplicity the heliocentric discovery has a peculiar appeal because
it allows simplicity to be arithmetized; it involves a reduction
in the number of epicycles from eighty-three to seventeen".

Without careful qualification this can be misleading. If in any one

calculation Ptolemy had had to invoke 83 epicycles <all at once,>
while Copernicus never required more than one third this number, then
(in the sense obvious to Margenau) Ptolemaic astronomy would be simpler
than Copernican. But no single planetary problem ever required
of Ptolemy more than six epicycles at one time. This, of course, results
from the non-systematic, 'cellular' character of Ptolemaic
theory. Calculations within the Copernican framework always raised questions
about planetary configurations. These could be met only by considering
the dynamical elements of several planets at one time. This
is more ambitious than Ptolemy is ever required to be when he faces
his isolated problems. Thus, in no ordinary sense of 'simplicity'
is the Ptolemaic theory simpler than the Copernican. The latter required
juggling several elements simultaneously. This was not simpler
but much more difficult than exercises within Ptolemy's astronomy.

Analogously, anyone who argues that Einstein's theory of

gravitation is simpler than Newton's, must say rather more to explain
how it is that the latter is mastered by student-physicists, while
the former can be managed (with difficulty) only by accomplished experts.

In a sense, Einstein's theory <is> simpler than Newton's,

and there is a corresponding sense in which Copernicus' theory
is simpler than Ptolemy's. But 'simplicity' here refers to
<systematic simplicity>. The number of primitive ideas in systematically-simple
theories is reduced to a minimum. The axioms required to
make the theoretical machinery operate are set out tersely and powerfully,
so that all permissible operations within the theory can be traced
rigorously back to these axioms, rules, and primitive notions. This
characterizes Euclid's formulation of geometry, but not Ptolemy's
astronomy. There are in the <Almagest> no rules for determining
<in advance> whether a new epicycle will be required for dealing with
abberations in lunar, solar, or planetary behavior. The strongest
appeal of the Copernican formulation consisted in just this: ideally,
the justification for dealing with special problems in particular
ways is completely set out in the basic 'rules' of the theory. The
lower-level hypotheses are never 'ad hoc', never introduced <ex
post facto> just to sweep up within the theory some recalcitrant datum.
Copernicus, to an extent unachieved by Ptolemy, approximated to
Euclid's vision. <De Revolutionibus> is not just a collection of
facts and techniques. It is an organized system of these things. Solving
astronomical problems requires, for Copernicus, not a random search
of unrelated tables, but a regular employment of the rules defining
the entire discipline. Hence, noting the simplicity achieved
in Copernicus' formulation does not provide <another> reason for
the acceptance of <De Revolutionibus,> another reason beyond its
systematic superiority. It provides exactly <the same> reason.

1543 A&D& is often venerated as the birthday of the scientific

revolution. It is really the funeral day of scholastic science. Granted,
the cosmological, philosophical, and cultural reverberations
initiated by the <De Revolutionibus> were felt with increasing violence
during the 300 years to follow. But, considered within technical
astronomy, a different pattern can be traced. In what does the
dissatisfaction of Copernicus-the-astronomer consist? What in the
<Almagest> draws his fire? Geocentricism <per se?> No. The
formal displacement of the geocentric principle far from being Copernicus'
<primary> concern, was introduced only to resolve what seemed
to him intolerable in orthodox astronomy, namely, the 'unphysical'
triplication of centric reference-points: one center from which
the planet's distances were calculated, another around which planetary
velocities were computed, and still a third center (the earth) from
which the observations originated. This arrangement was for Copernicus
literally monstrous: "With [the Ptolemaists] it is as though
an artist were to gather the hands, feet, head and other members
for his images from divers models, each part excellently drawn, but not
related to a single body; and since they in no way match each other,
the result would be a monster rather than a man". Copernicus
required a systematically integrated, physically intelligible astronomy.
His objective was, essentially, to repair those aspects of orthodox
astronomy responsible for its deficiencies in achieving these ends.
That such deficiencies existed within Ptolemy's theory was not
discovered <de novo> by Copernicus. The critical, rigorous examinations
of Nicholas of Cusa and Nicholas of Oresme provided the context
(a late medieval context) for Nicholas Copernicus' own work.
The latter looked backward upon inherited deficiencies. Without abandoning
too much, Copernicus sought to make orthodox astronomy systematically
and mechanically acceptable. He did not think himself to be
firing the first shot of an intellectual revolution.
Henrietta's feeling of identity with Sara Sullam was crowned by her
discovery of the coincidence that Sara's epitaph in the Jewish
cemetery in Venice referred to her as "the Sulamite". Into
the texture of this tapestry of history and human drama Henrietta,
as every artist delights to do, wove strands of her own intuitive insights
into human nature and-
especially in the remarkable story of the
attraction and conflict between two so disparate and fervent characters
as this pair- into the relations of men and women: "In their
relations, she was the giver and he the receiver, nay the demander. His
feeling always exacted sacrifices from her. **h One is so accustomed
to think of men as the privileged who need but ask and receive, and
women as submissive and yielding, that our sympathies are usually enlisted
on the side of the man whose love is not returned, and we condemn
the woman as a coquette **h. The very firmness of her convictions and
logical clearness of her arguments captivated and stimulated him to
make greater efforts; usually, this is most exasperating to men, who
expect every woman to verify their preconceived notions concerning her
sex, and when she does not, immediately condemn her as eccentric and
unwomanly **h. She had the opportunity that few clever women can resist,
of showing her superiority in argument over a man **h. Women themselves
have come to look upon matters in the same light as the outside
world, and scarcely find any wrong in submitting to the importunities
of a stronger will, even when their affections are withheld **h.
She was exposing herself to temptation which it is best to avoid where
it can consistently be done. One who invites such trials of character
is either foolhardy, overconfident or too simple and childlike in faith
in mankind to see the danger. In any case but the last, such a course
is sure to avenge itself upon the individual; the moral powers
no more than the physical and mental, can bear overstraining. And, in
the last case, a bitter disappointment but too often meets the confiding
nature **h". Henrietta was discovering in the process of
writing, as the born writer does, not merely a channel for the discharge
of accumulated information but a stimulus to the development of the
creative powers of observation, insight and intuition. Dr&
Isaacs was so pleased with the quality of her biographical study of
Sara Sullam that he considered submitting it to the <Century> Magazine
or <Harper's> but he decided that its Jewish subject probably
would not interest them and published it in <The Messenger,>
"so our readers will be benefited instead". Under her father's
influence it did not occur to Henrietta that she might write on subjects
outside the Jewish field, but she did begin writing for other Anglo-Jewish
papers and thus increased her output and her audience. And
she wrote the libretto for an oratorio on the subject of Judas Maccabeus
performed at the <Hanukkah> festival which came in December.
By her eighteenth birthday her bent for writing was so evident that
Papa and Mamma gave her a <Life of Dickens> as a spur to her aspiration.

Another source of intellectual stimulus was opened

to her at that time by the founding of Johns Hopkins University within
walking distance of home. It was established in a couple of buildings
in the shopping district, with only a few professors, but all eminent
men, and a few hundred eager students housed in nearby dwellings.
In September '76 Thomas Huxley, Darwin's famous disciple, came
from England to speak in a crowded auditorium at the formal opening
of the University; and although it was a school for men only, it
afforded Henrietta an opportunity to attend its public lectures.

In the following year her father undertook to give a course in Hebrew

theology to Johns Hopkins students, and this brought to the Szold
house a group of bright young Jews who had come to Baltimore to
study, and who enjoyed being fed and mothered by Mamma and entertained
by Henrietta and Rachel, who played and sang for them in the upstairs
sitting room on Sunday evenings. From Philadelphia came Cyrus
Adler and Joseph
Jastrow. Adler, Judge Sulzberger's nephew, came to study Assyriology.
A smart, shrewd and ambitious young man, well connected, and with
a knack for getting in the good graces of important people, he was
bound to go far. Joseph Jastrow, the younger son of the distinguished
rabbi, Marcus Jastrow, was a friendly, round-faced fellow with a
little mustache, whose field was psychology, and who was also a punster
and a jolly tease. His father was a good friend of Rabbi Szold, and
Joe lived with the Szolds for a while. Both these youths, who greatly
admired Henrietta, were somewhat younger than she, as were also
the neighboring Friedenwald
boys, who were then studying medicine;
and bright though they all were, they could not possibly compete for
her interest with Papa, whose mind- although he never tried to dazzle
or patronize lesser lights with it- naturally eclipsed theirs and
made them seem to her even younger than they were. Besides, Miss Henrietta-
as she was generally known since she had put up her hair
with a chignon in the back- had little time to spare them from her
teaching and writing; so Cyrus Adler became interested in her friend
Racie Friedenwald, and Joe Jastrow- the only young man who when
he wrote had the temerity to address her as Henrietta, and signed
himself Joe- fell in love with pretty sister Rachel. Henrietta,
however, was at that time engaged in a lengthy correspondence with
Joe's older and more serious brother, Morris, who was just about
her own age and whom she had got to know well during trips to Philadelphia
with Papa, when he substituted for Rabbi Jastrow at Rodeph
Shalom Temple there during its Rabbi's absence in Europe. Young
Morris, who, while attending the University of Pennsylvania, also
taught and edited a paper, found time to write Henrietta twenty-page
letters on everything that engaged his interest, from the acting of Sarah
Bernhardt in Philadelphia to his reactions to the comments of
"Sulamith" on the Jewish reform movement being promulgated by the
Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati. Unlike his younger brother,
Joe, he never presumed to address her more familiarly than as "My
dear friend", although he praised and envied the elegance and purity
of her style. And when he complained of the lack of time for all
he wanted to do, Henrietta advised him to rise at five in the morning
as she and Papa did. One thing Papa had not taught Henrietta
was how to handle a young man as high-spirited and opinionated as
herself. She could not resist the opportunity "of showing her superiority
in argument over a man" which she had remarked as one of the
"feminine follies" of Sara Sullam; and in her forthright way,
Henrietta, who in her story of Sara had indicated her own unwillingness
"to think of men as the privileged" and "women as submissive
and yielding", felt obliged to defend vigorously any statement of hers
to which Morris Jastrow took the slightest exception- he objected
to her stand on the Corbin affair, as well as on the radical reforms
of Dr& Wise of Hebrew Union College- until once, in sheer
desperation, he wrote that he had given up hope they would ever agree
on anything. But that did not prevent him from writing more long letters,
or from coming to spend his Christmas vacations with the hospitable,
lively Szolds in their pleasant house on Lombard Street.

#1880S:
"LITTLE WOMEN"#

"WE'VE GOT Father and Mother

and each other **h" said Beth on the first page of Louisa Alcott's
<Little Women;> and, "I do think that families are the
most beautiful things in all the world", burst out Jo some five hundred
pages later in that popular story of the March family, which had
first appeared when Henrietta was eight; and the Szold family, as
it developed, bore a striking resemblance to the Marches. Mr&
March, like Benjamin Szold, was a clergyman, although of an indeterminate
denomination; and "Marmee" March, like Sophie Szold,
was the competent manager of her brood of girls, of whom the Marches
had only four to the Szolds' five. But the March girls had their
counterparts in the Szold girls. Henrietta could easily identify
herself with Jo March, although Jo was not the eldest sister. Neither
was Henrietta hoydenish like Jo, who frankly wished she were a
boy and had deliberately shortened her name, which, like Henrietta's,
was the feminine form of a boy's name. But both were high-spirited
and vivacious, both had tempers to control, both loved languages,
especially English and German, both were good teachers and wrote for
publication. Each was her mother's assistant and confidante; and
each stood out conspicuously in the family picture. Bertha Szold
was more like Meg, the eldest March girl, who "learned that a
woman's happiest kingdom is home, her highest honor the art of ruling
it, not as a queen, but a wise wife and mother". Bertha, blue-eyed
like Mamma, was from the start her mother's daughter, destined for
her mother's role in life. Sadie, like Beth March, suffered ill
health- got rheumatic fever and had to be careful of her heart-
but that never dampened her spirits. When her right hand was incapacitated
by the rheumatism, Sadie learned to write with her left hand. She
wrote gay plays about the girls for family entertainments, like "Oh,
What Fun! A comedy in Three Acts", in which, under "Personages",
Henrietta appeared as "A Schoolmarm", and Bertha,
who was only a trifle less brilliant in high school than Henrietta
had been, appeared as "<Dummkopf>". Sadie studied piano; played
Chopin in the "Soiree Musicale of Mr& Guthrie's Pupils";
and she recited "Hector's Farewell to Andromache" most
movingly, to the special delight of Rabbi Jastrow at his home in Germantown
near Philadelphia, where the Szold girls took turns visiting
between the visits of the Jastrow boys at the Szolds' in Baltimore.
Adele, like Amy, the youngest of the Marches, was the rebellious,
mischievous, rather calculating and ambitious one. For Rachel,
conceded to be the prettiest of the Szold girls- and she did make
a pretty picture sitting in the grape-arbor strumming her guitar and singing
in her silvery tones- there was no particular March counterpart;
but both groups were so closely knit that despite individual differences
the family life in both cases was remarkably similar in atmosphere
if not entirely in content- the one being definitely Jewish
and the other vaguely Christian. The Szolds, like the Marches,
enjoyed and loved living together, even in troubled times; and,
as in the March home, any young man who called on the Szolds found
himself confronted with a phalanx of femininity which made it rather difficult
to direct his particular attention to any one of them. This
included Mamma, jolly, generous, and pretty, with whom they all fell
in love, just as Papa had first fallen in love with <her> Mamma before
he chose her; and when a young man like Morris Jastrow had enjoyed
the Szold hospitality, he felt obliged to send his respects and
his gifts not merely to Henrietta, in whom he was really interested,
but to all the Szold girls and Mamma. And just as "Laurie" Lawrence
was first attracted to bright Jo March, who found him immature
by her high standards, and then had to content himself with her younger
sister Amy, so Joe Jastrow, who had also been writing Henrietta
before he came to Johns Hopkins, had to content himself with her
younger sister, pretty Rachel. And like Jo March, who saw her sisters
Meg and Amy involved in "lovering" before herself, Henrietta
saw her sisters Rachel and Sadie drawn outside their family circle
by the attraction of suitors, Rachel by Joe Jastrow, and Sadie by
Max Lo^bl, a young businessman who would write her romantic descriptions
of his trips by steamboat down the Mississippi.

This time he was making no mistake. Olgivanna- in her country

the
nickname was a respectful form of address- was not only attractive but
shrewd, durable, sensible, and smart. No wonder Wright was enchanted-
no two better suited people ever met. Almost from that day, until
his death, Olgivanna was to stay at his side; but the years that
immediately followed were to be extraordinarily trying, both for Wright
and his Montenegrin lady. It must be granted that the flouting
of convention, no matter how well intentioned one may be, is sure
to lead to trouble, or at least to the discomfort that goes with social
disapproval. Even so, many of the things that happened to Wright
and Olgivanna seem inordinately severe. Their afflictions centered
on one maddening difficulty: Miriam held up the divorce proceedings
that she herself had asked for. Reporters began to trail Miriam everywhere,
and to encourage her to make appalling statements about Wright
and his doings. Flocks of writs, attachments, and unpleasant legal
papers of every sort began to fly through the air. The distracted Miriam
would agree to a settlement through her legal representative, then
change her mind and make another attack on Wright as a person. At
last her lawyer, Arthur D& Cloud, gave up the case because she
turned down three successive settlements he arranged. Cloud made an interesting
statement in parting from his client: "I wanted to be
a lawyer, and Mrs& Wright wanted me to be an avenging angel. So I
got out. Mrs& Wright is without funds. The first thing to do is
get her some money by a temporary but definite adjustment pending a final
disposition of the case. But every time I suggested this to her,
Mrs& Wright turned it down and demanded that I go out and punish
Mr& Wright. I am an attorney, not an instrument of vengeance".
Miriam Noel disregarded the free advice of her departing counselor,
and appointed a heavy-faced young man named Harold Jackson to take
his place. There were three years of this strange warfare;
and during the unhappy time, Miriam often would charge that Wright and
Olgivanna were misdemeanants against the public order of Wisconsin.
Yet somehow, when officers were prodded into visiting Taliesin to
execute the warrants, they would find neither Wright nor Olgivanna
at home. This showed that common sense had not died out at the county
and village level- though why the unhappy and obviously unbalanced
woman was not restrained remains a puzzle. The misery of Miriam's
bitterness can be felt today by anyone who studies the case- it was
hopeless, agonizing, and destructive, with Miriam herself bearing the
heaviest burden of shame and pain. To get an idea of the embarrassment
and chagrin that was heaped upon Wright and Olgivanna, we
should bear in mind that the raids were sometimes led by Miriam in person.
One of the most distressing of these scenes occurred at Spring
Green toward the end of the open warfare, on a beautiful day in June.
At this time Miriam Noel appeared, urging on Constable Henry Pengally,
whose name showed him to be a descendant of the Welsh settlers
in the neighborhood. A troop of reporters brought up the rear. Miriam
was stopped at the Taliesin gate, and William Weston, now the
estate foreman, came out to parley. He said that Mr& Wright was
not in, and so could not be arrested on something called a peace warrant
that Miriam was waving in the air. Miriam now ordered Pengally to
break down the gate, but he said he really couldn't go that far. At
this point Mrs& Frances Cupply, one of Wright's handsome daughters
by his first wife, came from the house and tried to calm Miriam
as she tore down a NO VISITORS sign and smashed the glass pane
on another sign with a rock. Miriam Noel Wright said, "Here
I am at my own home, locked out so I must stand in the road"!
Then she rounded on Weston and cried, "You always did Wright's
dirty work! When I take over Taliesin, the first thing I'll
do is fire you". "Madame Noel, I think you had better
go", said Mrs& Cupply. "And I think <you> had better
leave", replied Miriam. Turning to the reporters, she asked, "Did
you hear her? 'I think you had better leave'! And this
is my own home". In the silence that followed, Miriam walked close
to Mrs& Cupply, who drew back a step on her side of the gate. Then,
with staring eyes and lips drawn thin, Miriam said to the young woman,
"You are ugly- uglier than you used to be, and you were always
very ugly. You are even uglier than Mr& Wright". The
animosity expressed by such a scene had the penetrating quality of a
natural force; and it gave Miriam Noel a fund of energy like that
of a person inspired to complete some great and universal work of art.
As if to make certain that Wright would be unable to pay any settlement
at all, Miriam wrote to prospective clients denouncing him; she
also went to Washington and appealed to Senator George William
Norris of Nebraska, the Fighting Liberal, from whose office a sympathetic
but cautious harrumphing was heard. Then, after overtures to
accept a settlement and go through with a divorce, Miriam gave a ghastly
echo of Mrs& Micawber by suddenly stating, "I will never leave
Mr& Wright". Under this kind of pressure, it is not
surprising that Wright would make sweeping statements to the newspapers.
Miriam had not yet goaded him into mentioning her directly, but one
can feel the generalized anger in Wright's remarks to reporters
when he was asked, one morning on arrival in Chicago, what he thought
of the city as a whole. First, Wright said, he was choked by the smoke,
which fortunately kept him from seeing the dreadful town. But surely
Michigan Avenue was handsome? "That isn't a boulevard, it's
a racetrack"! cried Wright, showing that automobiles were considered
to be a danger as early as the 1920's. "This is a horrible
way to live", Wright went on. "You are being strangled by traffic".
He was then asked for a solution of the difficulty, and began
to talk trenchant sense, though private anguish showed through in the
vehemence of his manner. "Take a gigantic knife and sweep it over
the Loop", Wright said. "Cut off every building at the seventh
floor. Spread everything out. You don't need concentration. If
you cut down these horrible buildings you'll have no more traffic jams.
You'll have trees again. You'll have some joy in the life of
this city. After all, that's the job of the architect- to give
the world a little joy".

Little enough joy was afforded Wright

in the spring of 1925, when another destructive fire broke out at Taliesin.
The first news stories had it that this blaze was started by
a bolt of lightning, as though Miriam could call down fire from heaven
like a prophet of the Old Testament. A storm did take place that
night, and fortunately enough, it included a cloudburst that helped put
out the flames. Later accounts blamed defective wiring for starting
the fire; at any rate, heat grew so intense in the main part of the
house that it melted the window panes, and fused the K'ang-si pottery
to cinders. Wright set his loss at $200,000, a figure perhaps justified
by the unique character of the house that had been ruined, and
the faultless taste that had gone into the selection of the prints and
other things that were destroyed. In spite of the disaster, Wright
completed during this period plans for the Lake Tahoe resort, in which
he suggested the shapes of American Indian tepees- a project of
great and appropriate charm, that came to nothing. Amid a shortage of
profitable work, the memory of Albert Johnson's $20,000 stood out
in lonely grandeur- the money had quickly melted away. A series of
conferences with friends and bankers began about this time; and the
question before these meetings was, here is a man of international reputation
and proved earning power; how can he be financed so that he
can find the work he ought to do? While this was under consideration,
dauntless as ever Wright set about the building of Taliesin /3,.

As he made plans for the new Taliesin, Wright also got on

paper his conception of a cathedral of steel and glass to house a congregation
of all faiths, and the idea for a planetarium with a sloping
ramp. Years were to pass before these plans came off the paper, and
Wright was justified in thinking, as the projects failed, that much
of what he had to show his country and the world would never be seen except
by visitors to Taliesin. And now there was some question as to
his continued residence there. Billy Koch, who had once worked for
Wright as a chauffeur, gave a deposition for Miriam's use that he
had seen Olgivanna living at Taliesin. This might put Wright in such
a bad light before a court that Miriam would be awarded Taliesin;
nor was she moved by a letter from Wright pointing out that if he
was not "compelled to spend money on useless lawyer's bills, useless
hotel bills, and useless doctor's bills", he could more quickly
provide Miriam with a suitable home either in Los Angeles or Paris,
as she preferred. Miriam sniffed at this, and complained that Wright
had said unkind things about her to reporters. His reply was, "Everything
that has been printed derogatory to you, purporting to have
come from me, was a betrayal, and nothing yet has been printed which
I have sanctioned". What irritated Miriam was that Wright had told
the papers about a reasonable offer he had made, which he considered
she would accept "when she tires of publicity". From her California
headquarters, Miriam fired back, "I shall never divorce Mr&
Wright, to permit him to marry Olga Milanoff". Then Miriam
varied the senseless psychological warfare by suddenly withdrawing
a suit for separate maintenance that had been pending, and asking
for divorce on the grounds of cruelty, with the understanding that Wright
would not contest it. The Bank of Wisconsin sent a representative
to the judge's chambers in Madison to give information on Wright's
ability to meet the terms. He said that the architect might reasonably
be expected to carry his financial burdens if all harrassment
could be brought to an end, and that the bank would accept a mortgage
on Taliesin to help bring this about. Miriam said that she must be
assured that "that other woman, Olga, will not be in luxury while I
am scraping along". This exhausted Wright's patience, and in consequence
he talked freely to reporters in a Madison hotel suite. "Volstead
laws, speed laws, divorce laws", he said, "as they now
stand, demoralize the individual, make liars and law breakers of us in
one way or another, and tend to make our experiment in democracy absurd.
If Mrs& Wright doesn't accept the terms in the morning, I'll
go either to Tokyo or to Holland, to do what I can. I realize,
in taking this stand, just what it means to me and mine". Here Wright
gave a slight sigh of weariness, and continued, "It means more
long years lived across the social grain of the life of our people,
making shift to live in the face of popular disrespect and misunderstanding
as I best can for myself and those dependent upon me". Next
day, word came that Miriam was not going through with the divorce;
but Wright stayed in the United States. His mentioning of Japan and
Holland had been merely the expression of wishful thinking. No matter
what troubles might betide him, this most American of artists knew
in his heart he could not function properly outside his native land.

In a few weeks Miriam made another sortie at Taliesin, but

was repulsed at the locked and guarded gates.
More likely, you simply told yourself, as you handed us the book, that
it mattered little what we incanted providing we underwent the discipline
of incantation. For pride's sake, I will not say that
the coy and leering vade mecum of those verses insinuated itself into
my soul. Besides, that particular message does no more than weakly echo
the roar in all fresh blood. But what you could not know, of course,
was how smoothly the Victorian Fitzgerald was to lead into an American
Fitzgerald of my own vintage under whose banner we adolescents
were to come, if not of age, then into a bright, taut semblance of it.
I do not suppose you ever heard of F& Scott Fitzgerald, living
or dead, and moreover I do not suppose that, even if you had, his legend
would have seemed to you to warrant more than a cluck of disapproval.
Neither his appetites, his exacerbations, nor his despair were
kin to yours. He might have been the man in the moon for all you could
have understood him. But he was no man in the moon to me. Although
his tender nights were not the ones I dreamed of, nor was it for yachts,
sports cars, tall drinks, and swimming pools, nor yet for money or
what money buys that I burned, I too was burning and watching myself
burn. The flame was simply of a different kind. It was symbolized
(at least for those of us who recognized ourselves in the image) by that
self-consuming, elegiac candle of Edna St& Vincent Millay's,
that candle which from the quatrain where she ensconced it became a
beacon to us, but which in point of fact would have had to be as tall
as a funeral taper to last even the evening, let alone the night. One
should not, of course, pluck the head off a flower and expect its perfume
to linger on. Yet this passion for passion, now that I look back
on it with passion spent, seems somewhat overblown and operatic, though
as a diva Miss Millay perfectly controlled her notes. Only what
else was she singing but the old Song of Songs, that most ancient
of tunes that nature plays with such unfailing response upon young nerves?
Perhaps this is not so little. Perhaps the mere fact that by
plucking on the nerves nature can awaken in the most ordinary of us, temporarily
anyway, the sleeping poet, and in poets can discover their
immortality, is the most remarkable of all the remarkable phenomena to
which we can attest? One can see it as humiliating that an extra hormone
casually fed into our chemistry may induce us to lay down our lives
for a lover or a friend; one can take it as no more than another
veil torn from the mystery of the soul. But it could also be looked
at from the other end of the spectrum. One could see this chemical determinant
as in itself a miracle. In any case, Miss Millay's sweet-throated
bitterness, her variations on the theme that the world was
not only well lost for love but even well lost for lost love, her constant
and wonderfully tragic posture, so unlike that of Fitzgerald since
it required no scenery or props, drew from the me that I was when
I fell upon her verses an overwhelming yea. But all this, I
am well aware, is the <bel canto> of love, and although I have always
liked to think that it was to the <bel canto> and to that alone
that I listened, I know well enough that it was not. If I am to speak
the whole truth about my knowledge of love, I will have to stop
trying to emulate the transcendant nightingale. There is another side
of love, more nearly symbolized by the croak of the mating capercailzie,
or better still perhaps by the mute antics of the slug. Whether
you experienced the passion of desire I have, of course, no way
of knowing, nor indeed have I wished with even the most fleeting fragment
of a wish to know, for the fact that one constitutes by one's
mere existence so to speak the proof of some sort of passion makes any
speculation upon this part of one's parents' experience more immodest,
more scandalizing, more deeply unwelcome than an obscenity from
a stranger. I recoil from the very thought. At the same time, I am
aware that my recoil could be interpreted by readers of the tea leaves
at the bottom of my psyche as an incestuous sign, since theirs is a science
of paradox: if one hates, they say it is because one loves;
if one bullies, they say it is because one is afraid; if one shuns,
they say it is because one desires; and according to them, whatever
one fancies one feels, what one feels in fact is the opposite. Well,
normally abnormal or normally normal, neurotic or merely fastidious (do
the tea-leaf readers, by the way, allow psyches to have moral taste?),
I have never wanted to know what you knew of passion. ##

YOU
PROBABLY WOULD NOT REMEMBER, SINCE YOU NEVER seemed to remember
even
the same moments as I, much less their intensity, one sunny midday on
Fifth Avenue when you had set out with me for some final shopping
less than a week before the wedding you staged for me with such reluctance
at the Farm. I can see us now. We had been walking quite briskly,
for despite your being so small and me so tall, your stride in those
days could easily match mine. We had stopped before a shop window
to assess its autumnal display, when you suddenly turned to me, looking
up from beneath one of your wrong hats, and with your nervous "ahem"!
said: "There are things I must tell you about this man you
are marrying which he does not know himself". If you had screamed
right there in the street where we stood, I could not have felt more
fear. With scarcely a mumble of excuse, I fled. I fled, however,
not from what might have been the natural fear of being unable to disguise
from you that the things about my bridegroom- in the sense you
meant the word "things"- which you had been galvanizing yourself
to tell me as a painful part of your maternal duty were things which
I had already insisted upon finding out for myself (despite, I may now
say, the unspeakable awkwardness of making the discovery on principle,
yes, on principle, and in cold blood) because I was resolved, as
a modern woman, not to be a mollycoddle waiting for Life but to seize
Life by the throat. I had developed too foolproof a facade to be afraid
of self-betrayal. What I fled from was my fear of what, unwittingly,
you might betray, without meaning to, about my father and yourself.

But I can see from this latest trick of memory how much
more arbitrary and influential it is than the will. While my memory
holds with relentless tenacity, as I cannot too often stress, to my wrongs,
when it comes to my shames, it gestures and jokes and toys with
chronology like a prestidigitator in the hope of distracting me from
them. Just as I was about to enlarge upon my discovery of the underside
of the leaf of love, memory, displeased at being asked to yield its
unsavory secrets, dashed ahead of me, calling back over its shoulder:
"Skip it. Cut it out". But I will not skip it or cut it
out.
It is not my intention in this narrative to picture myself as a helpless
victim moored to the rock of experience and left to the buffetings
of chance. If to be innocent is to be helpless, then I had been-
as are we all- helpless at the start. But the time came when I was
no longer innocent and therefore no longer helpless. Helpless in that
sense I can never be again. However, I confess my hope that I
will be innocent again, not with a pristine, accidental innocence, but
rather with an innocence achieved by the slow cutting away of the flesh
to reach the bone. For innocence, of all the graces of the
spirit, is I believe the one most to be prayed for. Although it is constantly
made to look foolish (too simple to come in out of the rain,
people say, who have found in the innocent an impediment), it does not
mind looking foolish because it is not concerned with how it looks.
It assumes that things are as they seem when they seem best, and when
they seem worst it overlooks them. To innocence, a word given is a word
that will be kept. Instinctively, innocence does unto others as it
expects to be done by. But when these expectations are once too often
ground into the dust, innocence can falter, since its strength is according
to the strength of him who possesses it. The innocence of which
I speak is, I know, not incorruptible. But I insist upon believing
that even when it is lost, it may, like paradise, be regained.

However, it was not of innocence in general that I was speaking,

but of perhaps the frailest and surely the least important side of
it which is innocence in romantic love. Here, if anywhere, it is not
wholly incontrovertible. To you, for instance, the word innocence, in
this connotation, probably retained its Biblical, or should I say
technical sense, and therefore I suppose I must make myself quite clear
by saying that I lost- or rather handed over- what you would
have considered to be my innocence two weeks before I was legally entitled,
and in fact by oath required, to hand it over along with what other
goods and bads I had. But to me innocence is far less tangible.
I had long since begun to lose my general innocence when I lost my
trust in you, but this special innocence I lost before ever I loved,
through my discovery that one could tremble with desire and even experience
a flaming delight that had nothing, nothing whatever to do with
friendship or liking, let alone with love. I knew this knowledge to
be corrupting at the time I acquired it; today, these many years later,
after all the temptations resisted or yielded to, the weasel satisfactions
and the engulfing dissatisfactions since endured, I call it
corrupting still. You, I could swear to it, remained innocent
in this sense until the end. Yours, but not mine, was an age in which
innocence was fostered and carefully- if not perhaps altogether
innocently- preserved. You had grown up at a time when the most distinguishing
mark of a lady was the <noli me tangere> writ plain across
her face. Moreover, because of the particular blot on your family
escutcheon through what may only have been one unbridled moment on your
grandmother's part, and because you had the lean-to kitchen and trundle
bed of your childhood to outgrow, what you obviously most desired
with both your conscious and unconscious person, what you bent your
whole will, sensibility, and intelligence upon, was to be a lady. Before
being daughter, wife, or mother, before being cultured (a word now
bereft both socially and politically of the sheen you children of frontiersmen
bestowed on it), before being sorry for the poor, progressive
about public health, and prettily if somewhat imprecisely humanitarian,
indeed first and foremost, you were a lady. There was, of course,
more to the portrait of a lady you carried in your mind's eye than
the <sine qua non> of her virtue. A lady, you made clear to me both
by precept and example, never raised her voice or slumped in her chair,
never failed in social tact (in heaven, for instance, would not mention
St& John the Baptist's head), never pouted or withdrew or
scandalized in company, never reminded others of her physical presence
by unseemly sound or gesture, never indulged in public scenes or private
confidences, never spoke of money save in terms of alleviating suffering,
never gossiped or maligned, never stressed but always minimized
the hopelessness of anything from sin to death itself.
With each song he gave verbal footnotes. The songs Sandburg sang often
reminded listeners of songs of a kindred character they knew entirely
or in fragments. Often these listeners would refer Sandburg to persons
who had similar ballads or ditties. In due time Sandburg was
a walking thesaurus of American folk music. After he had finished
the first two volumes of his <Lincoln>, Sandburg went to work
assembling a book of songs out of hobo and childhood days and from the
memory of songs others had taught him. He rummaged, found composers
and arrangers, collaborated on the main design and outline of harmonization
with musicians, ballad singers, and musicologists. The
result was a collection of 280 songs, ballads, ditties, brought together
from all regions of America, more than one hundred never before published:
<The American Songbag>. Each song or ditty was prefaced
by an author's note which indicated the origin and meaning of the
song as well as special interest the song had, musical arrangement,
and most of the chorus and verses. The book, published in 1927,
has been selling steadily ever since. As Sandburg said at the time:
"It is as ancient as the medieval European ballads brought to
the Appalachian Mountains, it is as modern as skyscrapers, the Volstead
Act, and the latest oil well gusher".

#SCHOPENHAUER NEVER LEARNED#

Sandburg is in constant demand as an entertainer. Two things

contribute to his popularity. First, Carl respects his audience and
prepares his speeches carefully. Even when he is called upon for impromptu
remarks, he has notes written on the back of handy envelopes.
He has his own system of shorthand, devised by abbreviations: "humility"
will be "humly", "with" will be "~w", and "that"
will be "~tt". The second reason for his popularity
is his complete spontaneity with the guitar. It is a mistake, however,
to imagine that Sandburg uses the guitar as a prop. He is no dextrous-fingered
college boy but rather a dedicated, humble, and bashful
apostle of this instrument. At age seventy-four, he became what he
shyly terms a "pupil" of Andres Segovia, the great guitarist of
the Western world. It is not easy to become Segovia's pupil.
One needs high talent. Segovia has written about Carl:
"His fingers labor heavily on the strings and he asked for my help
in disciplining them. I found that this precocious, grown-up boy of
74 deserved to be taught. There has long existed a brotherly affection
between us, thus I accepted him as my pupil. Just as in the case of
every prodigy child, we must watch for the efficacy of my teaching to
show up in the future- if he should master all the strenuous exercises
I inflicted on him. To play the guitar as he aspires will
devour his three-fold energy as a historian, a poet and a singer. One
cause of Schopenhauer's pessimism was the fact that he failed to
learn the guitar. I am certain that Carl Sandburg will not fall into
the same sad philosophy. The heart of this great poet constantly bubbles
forth a generous joy of life- with or without the guitar".

The public's identification of Carl Sandburg and the guitar

is no happenstance. Nor does Carl reject this identity. He
is proud of having Segovia for a friend and dedicated a poem to him
titled "The Guitar". Carl says it is the greatest poem
ever written to the guitar because he has never heard of any other poem
to that subtle instrument. "A portable companion always ready to
go where you go- a small friend weighing less than a freshborn infant-
to be shared with few or many- just two of you in sweet meditation".

The <New York Herald Tribune's> photographer,

Ira Rosenberg, tells an anecdote about the time he wanted to take a
picture of Carl playing a guitar. Carl hadn't brought his along. Mr&
Rosenberg suggested that they go out and find one. "Preferably",
said Carl, "one battered and worn, such as might be found
in a pawnshop". They went to the pawnshop of Joseph Miller
of 1162 Sixth Avenue. "Mr& Miller was in the shop",
the <Herald Tribune> story related, "but was reluctant to have
anybody's picture taken inside, because his business was too 'confidential'
for pictures. "But after introductions he asked:
'Carl Sandburg? Well <you> can pose inside'.
"He wanted Mr& Sandburg to pose with one of the guitars he had
displayed behind glass in the center of his shop, but the poet eyed this
somewhat distastefully. 'Kalamazoo guitars', he said, 'used
by radio hillbilly singers'. "He chose one from Mr& Miller's
window, a plain guitar with no fancy polish. While the picture
was taken, Mr& Miller's disposition to be generous to Mr&
Sandburg increased to the point where he advised, 'I won't even
charge you the one dollar rental fee'".

#A KNOWLEDGEABLE CELEBRITY#

When someone in the audience rose and asked how does it feel to
be a celebrity, Carl said, "A celebrity is a fellow who eats celery
with celerity". This has always been Carl's attitude.
Lloyd Lewis wrote that when he first knew Carl in 1916, Sandburg was
making $27.50 a week writing features for the <Day Book> and eating
sparse luncheons in one-arm restaurants. He walked home at night
for two miles beyond the end of a suburban trolley. When fame
came it changed Sandburg only slightly. Lewis remembered another newspaperman
asking, "Carl, have your ideas changed any since you got
all these comforts"? Carl thought the question over slowly
and answered: "I know a starving man who is fed never remembers
all the pangs of his starvation, I know that". That was all
he said, Lewis reports. That was all he had to say. In answer
to a <New York Times> query on what is fame ("Thoughts on
Fame", October 23, 1960), Carl said: "Fame is a figment of a
pigment. It comes and goes. It changes with every generation. There
never were two fames alike. One fame is precious and luminous; another
is a bubble of a bauble". #"AH, DID YOU ONCE SEE SHELLEY
PLAIN"?#

The impression you get from Carl Sandburg's home is

one of laughter and happiness; and the laughter and the happiness are
even more pronounced when no company is present. Carl has been
married to Paula for fifty-three years, and he has not made a single
major decision without careful consideration and thorough discussion
with his wife. Through all these years, Mrs& Sandburg has pointedly
avoided the limelight. She has shared her husband's greatness,
but only within the confines of their home; it is a dedication which
began the moment she met Carl. Mrs& Sandburg received a
Phi Beta Kappa key from the University of Chicago and she was busy
writing and teaching when she met Sandburg. "You are the 'Peoples'
Poet'" was her appraisal in 1908, and she stopped teaching
and writing to devote herself to the fulfillment of her husband's
career. She has rarely been photographed with him and, except
for Carl's seventy-fifth anniversary celebration in Chicago in 1953,
she has not attended the dozens of banquets, functions, public appearances,
and dinners honoring him- all of this upon her insistence.
Even now I will not intrude upon her except to state a few bare facts.

The only way to describe Paula Sandburg is to say she is

beautiful in a Grecian sense. Her clothes, her hair, everything about
her is both graceful and simple. She has small, broad, capable hands
and an enormous energy. She is not only a trained mathematician
and Classicist, but a good architect. She designed and supervised
the building of the Harbert, Michigan, house, most of which was constructed
by one local carpenter who carried the heavy beams singly upon
his shoulder. As the Sandburg goat herd increased, she also designed
the barn alterations to accommodate them. When erosion threatened
the foundation of their home in Harbert, Paula Sandburg planted grapevines
and arranged the snow fences which helped hold the sands away.

She was born Lilian Steichen, her parents immigrants from

Luxemburg. Her mother called her Paus'l, a Luxemburg endearment
meaning "pussycat". Some of the children of the family could not
pronounce this name and called her Paula, a soubriquet Carl liked so
much she has been Paula ever since. But neither was Lilian
her baptismal name. Her parents, pious Roman Catholics, christened
her Mary Anne Elizabeth Magdalene Steichen. "My mother read a
book right after I was born and there was a Lilian in the book she
loved and I became Lilian- and eventually I became Paula".

Lilian Steichen was an exceptional student. This family of Luxemburg

immigrants, in fact, produced two exceptional children. Paula's
older brother is Edward Steichen, a talented artist and, for the
past half-century, one of the world's eminent photographers. (Two
years ago the photography editor of <Vogue> magazine titled his article
about Steichen, "The World's Greatest Photographer".)

By the time Lilian had been graduated from public school, her
parents were doing quite well. Her mother was a good manager and established
a millinery business in Milwaukee. But her father was not enthusiastic
about sending young Paula to high school. "This is no
place for a young girl", he said. The parents compromised, however,
on a convent school and Paula went to Ursuline Academy in London,
Ontario. She was pious, too, once kneeling through the night
from Holy Thursday to Good Friday, despite the protest of the nuns
that this was too much for a young girl. She knelt out of reverence
for having read the <Meditations> of St& Augustine. She
read everything else she could get her hands on, including an article
(she thinks it was in the <Atlantic Monthly>) by Mark Twain on
"White Slavery". Paula was saddened about what was happening to
little girls and vowed to kneel no more in Chapel. She had come to
a decision. If there was ever a thought in her mind she might devote
her life to religion, it was now dispelled. "I felt that I must devote
myself to the 'outside' world". She passed the entrance
examinations to the University of Illinois, but during the year
at Urbana felt more important events transpired at the University
of Chicago. "And besides, Thorstein Veblen was one of the
Chicago professors". At the University of Chicago she studied
Whitman and Shelley, and became a Socialist. Socialist leaders
in Milwaukee recognized her worth, not only because of her dedication
but because of her fluency in German, French, and Luxemburg. She
once gave a German recitation before a convention of German-language
teachers in Milwaukee. Carl and Paula met in Milwaukee
in 1907 during Paula's Christmas holiday visit to her parents. Carl
was still Charles A& Sandburg. He "legitimized" Paula for
Lilian Steichen, and it was Paula who insisted on Carl for Charles.

Victor Berger, the panjandrum of Wisconsin Socialism and

member of Congress, had asked Paula Steichen to translate some of
his German editorials into English. Carl, who was stationed in Appleton,
Wisconsin, organizing for the Social Democrats, was in Berger's
office and made it his business to escort Paula to the streetcar.
She left the next day for her teaching job at Princeton, Illinois.
(After graduation from the University of Chicago, Paula taught
for two years in the normal school at Valley City, North Dakota,
then two years at Princeton (Illinois) Township High School.) By
the time the streetcar pulled away, he had fallen in love with Paula.

A letter awaited her at Princeton. Paula says that even

though Carl's letters usually began, "Dear Miss Steichen", there
was an understanding from the beginning that they would become husband
and wife. Paula generously lent me one of Carl's love
letters, dated February 21, 1908, Hotel Athearn, Oshkosh, Wisconsin:

"Dear Miss Steichen: It is a very good letter you

send me- softens the intensity of this guerilla warfare I am carrying
on up here. Never until in this work of ~S-~D organization
have I realized and felt the attitude and experience of a <Teacher>.

The United States is always ready to participate with the Soviet

Union in serious discussion of these or any other subjects that
may lead to peace with justice. Certainly it is not necessary
to repeat that the United States has no intention of interfering in
the internal affairs of any nation; by the same token, we reject any
Soviet attempt to impose its system on us or other peoples by force
or subversion. Now this concern for the freedom of other peoples
is the intellectual and spiritual cement which has allied us with
more than forty other nations in a common defense effort. Not for a
moment do we forget that our own fate is firmly fastened to that of these
countries; we will not act in any way which would jeopardize our
solemn commitments to them. ##

We and our friends are, of course,

concerned with self-defense. Growing out of this concern is the realization
that all people of the Free World have a great stake in the
progress, in freedom, of the uncommitted and newly emerging nations.
These peoples, desperately hoping to lift themselves to decent levels
of living must not, by our neglect, be forced to seek help from, and
finally become virtual satellites of, those who proclaim their hostility
to freedom. But they must have technical and investment assistance.
This is a problem to be solved not by America alone, but also
by every nation cherishing the same ideals and in position to provide
help. In recent years America's partners and friends in
Western Europe and Japan have made great economic progress.
The international economy of 1960 is markedly different from that of
the early postwar years. No longer is the United States the only major
industrial country capable of providing substantial amounts of the
resources so urgently needed in the newly developed countries.

To remain secure and prosperous themselves, wealthy nations must extend

the kind of co-operation to the less fortunate members that will
inspire hope, confidence, and progress. A rich nation can for a time,
without noticeable damage to itself, pursue a course of self-indulgence,
making its single goal the material ease and comfort of its own citizens-
thus repudiating its own spiritual and material stake in a peaceful
and prosperous society of nations. But the enmities it will incur,
the isolation into which it will descend, and the internal moral
and spiritual softness that will be engendered, will, in the long term,
bring it to economic and political disaster. America did not
become great through softness and self-indulgence. Her miraculous progress
in material achievements flows from other qualities far more worthy
and substantial: adherence to principles and methods consonant
with our religious philosophy; a satisfaction in hard work; the readiness
to sacrifice for worthwhile causes; the courage to meet every
challenge; the intellectual honesty and capacity to recognize the
true path of her own best interests. To us and to every nation
of the Free World, rich or poor, these qualities are necessary today
as never before if we are to march together to greater security, prosperity
and peace. I believe that the industrial countries are
ready to participate actively in supplementing the efforts of the developing
nations to achieve progress. The immediate need for
this kind of co-operation is underscored by the strain in this nation's
international balance of payments. Our surplus from foreign business
transactions has in recent years fallen substantially short of the
expenditures we make abroad to maintain our military establishments overseas,
to finance private investment, and to provide assistance to the
less developed nations. In 1959 our deficit in balance of payments
approached four billion dollars. Continuing deficits of anything
like this magnitude would, over time, impair our own economic growth
and check the forward progress of the Free World. We must
meet this situation by promoting a rising volume of exports and world
trade. Further, we must induce all industrialized nations of the Free
World to work together to help lift the scourge of poverty from less
fortunate. This co-operation in this matter will provide both for
the necessary sharing of this burden and in bringing about still further
increases in mutually profitable trade. New Nations, and
others struggling with the problems of development, will progress only-
regardless of any outside help- if they demonstrate faith in their
own destiny and use their own resources to fulfill it. Moreover,
progress in a national transformation can be only gradually earned;
there is no easy and quick way to follow from the oxcart to the jet plane.
But, just as we drew on Europe for assistance in our earlier years,
so now do these new and emerging nations that do have this faith
and determination deserve help. Respecting their need, one of
the major focal points of our concern is the South-Asian region.
Here,
in two nations alone, are almost five hundred million people, all working,
and working hard, to raise their standards, and in doing so, to
make of themselves a strong bulwark against the spread of an ideology
that would destroy liberty. I cannot express to you the depth
of my conviction that, in our own and free world interest, we must co-operate
with others to help these people achieve their legitimate ambitions,
as expressed in their different multi-year plans. Through the
World Bank and other instrumentalities, as well as through individual
action by every nation in position to help, we must squarely face
this titanic challenge. I shall continue to urge the American
people, in the interests of their own security, prosperity and peace,
to make sure that their own part of this great project be amply and
cheerfully supported. Free world decisions in this matter may spell the
difference between world disaster and world progress in freedom.
Other countries, some of which I visited last month, have similar
needs. A common meeting ground is desirable for those nations
which are prepared to assist in the development effort. During the
past year I have discussed this matter with the leaders of several Western
nations. Because of its wealth of experience, the Organization
for European Economic Cooperation could help with the initial
studies needed. The goal is to enlist all available economic resources
in the industrialized Free World, especially private investment
capital. By extending this help, we hope to make possible the
enthusiastic enrollment of these nations under freedom's banner.
No more startling contrast to a system of sullen satellites could be
imagined. If we grasp this opportunity to build an age of productive
partnership between the less fortunate nations and those that have
already achieved a high state of economic advancement, we will make
brighter the outlook for a world order based upon security and freedom.
Otherwise, the outlook could be dark indeed. We face, indeed, what
may be a turning point in history, and we must act decisively and wisely.
##

As a nation we can successfully pursue these objectives

only from a position of broadly based strength. No matter how
earnest is our quest for guaranteed peace, we must maintain a high degree
of military effectiveness at the same time we are engaged in negotiating
the issue of arms reduction. Until tangible and mutually enforceable
arms reduction measures are worked out we will not weaken the
means of defending our institutions. America possesses an enormous
defense power. It is my studied conviction that no nation will ever
risk general war against us unless we should become so foolish as
to neglect the defense forces we now so powerfully support. It is world-wide
knowledge that any power which might be tempted today to attack
the United States by surprise, even though we might sustain great
losses, would itself promptly suffer a terrible destruction. But I once
again assure all peoples and all nations that the United States,
except in defense, will never turn loose this destructive power.

During the past year, our long-range striking power, unmatched today
in manned bombers, has taken on new strength as the Atlas intercontinental
ballistic missile has entered the operational inventory. In
fourteen recent test launchings, at ranges of five thousand miles, <Atlas>
has been striking on an average within two miles of the target.
This is less than the length of a jet runway- well within the circle
of destruction.
Incidentally, there was an <Atlas> firing last
night. From all reports so far received, its performance conformed to
the high standards I have just described. Such performance is a great
tribute to American scientists and engineers, who in the past five
years have had to telescope time and technology to develop these long-range
ballistic missiles, where America had none before. This
year, moreover, growing numbers of nuclear powered submarines will
enter our active forces, some to be armed with Polaris missiles. These
remarkable ships and weapons, ranging the oceans, will be capable of
accurate fire on targets virtually anywhere on earth. To meet
situations of less than general nuclear war, we continue to maintain
our carrier forces, our many service units abroad, our always ready
Army strategic forces and Marine Corps divisions, and the civilian
components. The continuing modernization of these forces is a costly
but necessary process. It is scheduled to go forward at a rate which
will steadily add to our strength. The deployment of a portion
of these forces beyond our shores, on land and sea, is persuasive demonstration
of our determination to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with our
allies for collective security. Moreover, I have directed that steps
be taken to program on a longer range basis our military assistance to
these allies. This is necessary for a sounder collective defense system.

Next I refer to our program in space exploration, which

is often mistakenly supposed to be an integral part of defense research
and development. We note that, first, America has already
made
great contributions in the past two years to the world's fund of
knowledge of astrophysics and space science. These discoveries are of
present interest chiefly to the scientific community; but they are
important foundation stones for more extensive exploration of outer space
for the ultimate benefit of all mankind. Second, our military
missile program, going forward so successfully, does not suffer from
our present lack of very large rocket engines, which are necessary
in distant space exploration. I am assured by experts that the thrust
of our present missiles is fully adequate for defense requirements.

Third, the United States is pressing forward in the development

of large rocket engines to place vehicles of many tons into space
for exploration purposes. Fourth, in the meantime, it is necessary
to remember that we have only begun to probe the environment immediately
surrounding the earth. Using launch systems presently available,
we are developing satellites to scout the world's weather; satellite
relay stations to facilitate and extend communications over the
globe; for navigation aids to give accurate bearings to ships and
aircraft; and for perfecting instruments to collect and transmit the
data we seek. Fifth, we have just completed a year's experience
with our new space law. I believe it deficient in certain particulars.
Suggested improvements will be submitted to the Congress shortly.
##

The accomplishment of the many tasks I have alluded to requires

the continuous strengthening of the spiritual, intellectual,
and
economic sinews of American life. The steady purpose of our society
is to assure justice, before God, for every individual. We must be
ever alert that freedom does not wither through the careless amassing
of restrictive controls or the lack of courage to deal boldly with the
issues of the day. A year ago, when I met with you, the nation
was emerging from an economic downturn, even though the signs of resurgent
prosperity were not then sufficiently convincing to the doubtful.
Today our surging strength is apparent to everyone. 1960 promises
to be the most prosperous year in our history. Yet we continue
to be afflicted by nagging disorders. Among current problems that
require solutions, participated in by citizens as well as government,
are: the need to protect the public interest in situations of
prolonged labor-management stalemate; the persistent refusal
to come to grips with a critical problem in one sector of American agriculture;

the continuing threat of inflation, together with

the persisting tendency toward fiscal irresponsibility; in certain
instances the denial to some of our citizens of equal protection
of the law.

The group, upon the issuance of its first press release on December
21, 1957, designated itself a "Committee of Investigation".
In the course of its inquiry, it took testimony from only seven witnesses.
It heard Bang-Jensen twice and his lawyer, Adolf A& Berle,
Jr&, once. Its second press release was on January 15,
1958, and it recommended that the secret papers be destroyed. It also
implied that Paul Bang-Jensen had been irresponsible. On
January 18, Ernest Gross conducted a press conference at the U&N&
lasting an hour. Here, he openly attacked Bang-Jensen and referred
to his "aberrant conduct". This conference was held despite
Stavropoulos' assurance to Adolf Berle, who was leaving the same
day for Puerto Rico, that nothing would be done until his return on
January 22, except that the Secretary General would probably order
the list destroyed. On January 24 Paul Bang-Jensen, accompanied
by Adolf Berle, was met by Dragoslav Protitch and Colonel
Frank Begley, former Police Chief of Farmington, Conn&, and now
head of U&N& special police. The four, bundled in overcoats,
mounted to the wind-swept roof of the U&N& There,
Begley lit a fire in a wire basket, and Bang-Jensen dropped four
sealed envelopes into the flames. In one of these he said were notes
on the identities of the eighty-one refugees. The method of destroying
the evidence embarrassed Paul Bang-Jensen. He knew it would
be implied that it was done in this way at his insistence. He was
right, and Peter Marshall could not help but recall Andrew Cordier's
words on the subject, "Well, it seemed as good a place as any
to do the job". The Gross group had been formed for the express
purpose of advising the Secretary General. Hammarskjold's supposed
desire to seek outside legal advice in the guise of Ernest Gross
is illusion, at best. Gross's being "outside" the U&N&
applied only to a physical state, not an objective one. But by the
time the papers were finally disposed of, the group had informed the
world of its purpose, its recommendations, and its belief that Paul
Bang-Jensen was not of sound mind. Shortly the group would issue
its report to the Secretary General, recommending Paul Bang-Jensen's
dismissal from the United Nations. The contents of this
195-page document would become known to many before it would become known
to the man it was written about. ##

"Until this Hungarian

Committee matter came up, Bang-Jensen was a fine and devoted individual.
I had known him for some years, when I was a delegate and before,
and this manner had never been his". Ernest A& Gross
leaned back in his chair and told Peter Marshall how Secretary General
Dag Hammarskjold had, on December 4,1957, called him in as a
private lawyer to review Bang-Jensen's conduct "relating to his
association with the Special Committee on the problem of Hungary".
The result was the "Gross Report", prepared by Gross, as chairman,
with the assistance of two U&N& Under Secretaries, Constantin
Stavropoulos and Philippe de Seynes. "Yes", Gross
went on, "Bang-Jensen was an up-and-coming young man. He had
always done well. Never well known, but he had done his work competently
**h". Gross had received Marshall courteously and they
were discussing the case. "You know", the lawyer said, "it's
difficult to talk like this about a man who can't answer back".

Gross was behind a clean-top desk, only a manila folder before

him. Marshall sat in one of the several leather chairs. Outside the
office windows, twenty-four stories above Wall Street, a light rain
was falling. "Mr& Gross, your report says that 'our
function is investigative and advisory and does not in any way derogate
from or prejudice Mr& Bang-Jensen's rights as a staff member'.
You know, Bang-Jensen characterized your Committee as having prejudged
his case". Gross swung his swivel chair. "Well,
how could that have been? I don't consider that he was prejudged.
We were given a job and we carried it out, and later, his case was taken
up by the Disciplinary Committee **h. "We have nothing
to hide under a bushel. We did our job, Mr& Stavropoulos and Mr&
de Seynes and myself, taking evidence from a number of people".

"What did you think about his mental state"? "I

think our report sums up our finding", Gross answered. "Don't
forget, here was a man who had been accusing his colleagues for almost
a year of willfully attempting to present an incorrect report **h.

"This was not merely alleging errors, but was carried out
by day-after-day allegations in memos, written charges of serious consequence
**h. "This is a distressing thing. Supposing you or
I were being accused in this manner, and yet we were doing our level
best to carry on our work. No organization can carry on like that.

"I've been in government and I can tell some pretty hairy

stories
about personnel difficulties, so I know what a problem he was".

"What I'd like you to comment on is the criticism leveled

at your Committee". "What do you mean"?
"For instance, regarding the fact that the Gross Committee issued
two interim announcements to the press during its investigation. You
know Bang-Jensen was told the Committee was 'to convey its views,
suggestions and recommendations to the Secretary General'. In his
own words, Bang-Jensen 'took it for granted that the Group would
report to the Secretary General privately and not in public'. He
claimed that the release of the preliminary findings was 'prejudicial
to his position'". Gross bristled. For an instant he
glared speechless at Marshall. "Listen", he said. "I thought
the entire report was going to be confidential from beginning to end.
But you know Bang-Jensen launched an active campaign against us in
the press. It was getting so that we, the Committee, were being tried.
You can find it in the papers". "Well, as a matter of
fact, I've looked through back-issue files of New York papers for
December, 1957, and haven't found a great deal"- Gross
shot another look at Marshall. "It wasn't necessarily all here
in New York. Don't forget the foreign press". "Then
what about the second interim public announcement? This cited Bang-Jensen's
'aberrant conduct'". "The reason for that
report was to settle the matter of the list. As far as I'm concerned,
it was a separate matter from the general Committee study of Bang-Jensen's
conduct. The January fifteen report recommended that
Bang-Jensen be instructed to burn the list- the papers- in the presence
of a U&N& Security Officer". "How about your
press conference three days later- what was the reason for that?
Bang-Jensen said you told correspondents that you had checked in advance
to make sure the term 'aberrant conduct' was not libelous.
He claimed you made other slanderous allegations". Gross paused
and repeated himself. "The entire object of the press conference
was to clarify the problem of the list, since many in the press were
querying the U&N& about it. What was the list? I don't know.
Bang-Jensen never explained what the documents or papers were that
he had in his possession. "It was foolish of him to keep
them, whatever they were. He could have been blackmailed, or his family
might have been threatened. Of course the matter caught the public's
attention. We attempted to conclude this, and did so by having
the papers burned. Hammerskjold didn't like the way it was
carried out. It was a sort of Go^tterda^mmerung affair. Hammarskjold
believes the U&N& is an organization that settles matters
in a procedural way **h". Peter Marshall reflected. If Hammarskjold
had not wanted the list disposed of in this manner, and if
Bang-Jensen had not wanted it- who had ordered it? "Mr&
Gross, concerning the formation of your Committee, there's the
fact that you have been a legal adviser to the U&N& in the past;
as I understand it, Mr& Hammarskjold wanted <outside> advice.
Could you comment on that"? "I've served as a counsel
for the U&N& for some years, specializing particularly in real
estate matters or other problems that the regular U&N& legal
staff might not be equipped to handle. Mr& Stavropoulos is the U&N&
legal chief and a very good man, but he is not fully versed on
some technical points of American law". "What did you think
about Bang-Jensen's contention of errors and omissions in the
Hungarian report"? Marshall asked. "Those"! Gross
answered. "Why, Mick Shann went over and over the report with Alsing
Andersen, trying to check them out. Even after the incident between
Bang-Jensen and Shann in the Delegates' Lounge **h and this
was not the way the <Chicago Tribune> presented it". Gross
reached in his desk and pulled out two newspaper clippings. One
was an article on the U&N& by Alice Widener from the <Cincinnati
Enquirer>. The other was by Chesly Manley in the <Chicago
Daily Tribune>. Gross pointed to the Manley story. "I
know Ches, he's a friend of mine. He probably didn't mean to write
it this way, or maybe he did. There wasn't any 'violent argument'
between Bang-Jensen and Shann, as the <Tribune> puts it. That
implies that Shann was on the enemy side. You see what I mean?
How it's phrased there- the word 'violent'. "The
case was that Bang-Jensen came up to Shann claiming he had found further
errors in the report. 'I've found errors and I want you to
look them over'. So once again Shann had to argue with him about
this. But it wasn't a violent discussion. And after all this, Shann
went over all that Bang-Jensen had brought up". (Shann's
own report, Peter Marshall reflected, describes the encounter as
"immoderate". Bang-Jensen was in "hysterical condition".)

Gross stopped briefly, then went on. "Shann was responsible

for the report. He has felt terrible about all this. It was a good
report, he did all he could to make it a good report. When I speak
of how Shann felt, I know well. Don't forget, I am an old member
of the club, a former delegate. I think you are being unfair to take
these things up now. "You know, this hits in many areas. It
appeals to those who were frustrated in the outcome of the Hungarian
situation. Don't forget, the U&N& did no more than the United
States did **h it takes a great deal of sophisticated thought to
get the impact of this fact".

#CHAPTER 22#

FROM THE HOME

of his friend, Henrik Kauffmann, in Washington, D&C&, Paul
Bang-Jensen sent a telegram dated December 9, 1957, to Ernest Gross.
It said in part: "**h the matters to be considered are
obviously of a grave character, and I therefore respectfully request
that the hearing be postponed for two weeks in order that I might make
adequate preparation". Ernest Gross replied the next day,
putting the suspended diplomat's fears to rest. "This reveals some
misunderstanding on your part. The group conducting the review is
not holding formal hearings. It wished to pursue, in the course of this
review, questions arising from the body of material already in its
possession **h". It sounded like a fair enough invitation,
Peter Marshall reflected, and Bang-Jensen must have thought so too,
because on the thirteenth, he met the group of three on the thirty-sixth
floor of the U&N&. There, Ernest Gross further assured him:

"We were requested by the Secretary General, as I understand

it, to discuss with you such matters as appear to us to be relevant,
and we are not of course either a formal group or a committee
in the sense of being guided by any rules or regulations of the Secretariat.
<The only rules which I think we shall follow will be those
of common sense, justice, and fairness">. Peter Marshall
noted that Bang-Jensen had later referred to his two interviews with
the Gross group as "unfortunate experiences", and after his second
meeting on the sixteenth the Dane refused to attend further hearings
without legal counsel. Marshall pondered the reason for this, and
pondered too the replacement of one member of the three-man group.

J& A& C& Robertson, after serving Gross one week, left
for England.
Fortunately the hole was found at last and plugged. Another week passed
and even the missionaries were enjoying the voyage. The sickness
was gone and, after all, the two young couples were on their honeymoon.

The only lasting difficulty was the food. In spite of Pickering

Dodge's explicit instructions regarding variation of meals, the
food did not seem the same as at home. "Everything tasted differently
from what it does on land and those things I was most fond of at
home, I loathed the most here", Ann noted. At last they concluded
that the heavy, full feeling in their stomachs was due to lack of exercise.
Walking was the remedy, they decided, but a deck full of chicken
coops and pigpens was hardly suitable. Skipping was the alternative.
A rope was found and, like children in school, the missionaries
skipped for hours at a time. Finally, tiring of so monotonous a form
of exercise, they decided to dance instead. It was much more fun, reminding
the girls of their old carefree days in the Hasseltine frolics
room at Bradford. The weather turned warmer and with it came better
appetites, although Harriet was still a little off-color. She could
not face coffee or tea without milk, and was always craving types of
food that were not available aboard a sailing ship. By now she was sure
she was going to have a baby, deciding it would be born in India
or Burma that November. She was more excited than frightened at the
prospect of having her first child in a foreign land. The crew
of the <Caravan> never failed to amaze Ann, who during her stay
in Salem must frequently have overheard strong sailorly language. She
wrote in her journal, "I have not heard the least profane language
since I have been on board the vessel. This is very uncommon".

She was now enjoying the voyage very much. Even the first wave
of homesickness had passed, although there were moments when Captain
Heard pointed out on his compass the direction of Bradford that she
felt a little twinge at her heart. As for Adoniram, she found him
to be "the kindest" of husbands. On Sundays, with the permission
of Captain Heard, who usually attended with two of his officers,
services were held in the double cabin. Sometimes a ship would be
sighted and the <Caravan> pass so close that people could easily
be seen on the distant deck. Captain Heard did not communicate with
any strange vessels because of the possibility of war between the United
States and Britain. As warmer temperatures were encountered Ann
and Harriet were introduced to the pleasures of bathing daily in salt
water. When May came the <Caravan> had already crossed
the Equator. They were sailing round the Cape of Good Hope; the
weather had turned wet and cold. At this time Harriet wrote in a letter
which after their finally landing in India was sent to her mother:

"I care not how soon we reach Calcutta, and are placed
in a still room, with a bowl of milk and a loaf of Indian bread. I
can hardly think of this simple fare without exclaiming, oh, what a luxury.
I have been so weary of the excessive rocking of the vessel, and
the almost intolerable smell after the rain, that I have done little
more than lounge on the bed for several days. But I have been blest
with excellent spirits, and to-day have been running about the deck,
and <dancing> in our room for <exercise>, as well as ever".

While studying at the seminary in Andover, Adoniram had been working

on a New Testament translation from the original Greek. He
had brought it along to continue during the voyage. There was one particular
word that troubled his conscience. This was the Greek word most
often translated as "baptism". Born a Congregationalist,
he had been baptized as a tiny baby in the usual manner by having
a few drops of water sprinkled on his head, yet nowhere in the whole of
the New Testament could he find a description of anybody being baptized
by sprinkling. John the Baptist used total immersion in the River
Jordan for believers; even Christ was baptized by this method.
The more Adoniram
looked at the Greek word for baptism, the more unhappy
he became over its true meaning. As was only natural he
confided his searchings to Ann, conceding ruefully that it certainly
looked as if their own
Congregationalists were wrong and the Baptists right.

Ann was very troubled. By this time she had learned that
it was futile to argue with her young husband, yet the uncomfortable
fact remained: the American Congregationalists were sending them as
missionaries to the Far East and paying their salaries. What would
happen if Adoniram "changed horses in midstream"? Baptists and
Congregationalists in New England were on friendly terms. How embarrassing
it would be if the newly appointed Congregationalist missionaries
should suddenly switch their own beliefs in order to embrace Baptist
teachings! "If you become a Baptist, I will not",
Ann informed her husband, but sweeping her threat aside Adoniram
continued to search for an answer to the personal dilemma in which he
found himself. By early June they were a hundred miles off the
coast of Ceylon, by which time all four missionaries were hardened
seafarers. Even Harriet could boldly write, "I know not how it is;
but I hear the thunder roll; see the lightning flash; and the
waves threatening to swallow up the vessel; and yet remain unmoved".

Ann thrilled to the sight of a delicate butterfly and two

strange tropical birds. Land was near, and on June 12, one hundred
and fourteen days after leaving America, they actually saw, twenty miles
away, the coast of Orissa. Captain Heard gave orders for
the ship to be anchored in the Bay of Bengal until he could obtain
the services of a reputable pilot to steer her through the shallow waters.
Sometimes ships waited for days for such a man, but Captain
Heard was lucky. Next day a ship arrived with an English pilot,
his leadsman, an English youth, and the first Hindu the Judsons and
Newells had ever seen. A little man with a "a dark copper color"
skin, he was wearing "calico trousers and a white cotton short gown".
Ann was plainly disappointed in his appearance. "He looks
as feminine as you can imagine", she decided. The pilot possessed
excellent skill at his calling; all day long the <Caravan>
slowly made her way through the difficult passages. Alas, to Ann's
consternation, his language while thus employed left much to be desired.
He swore so loudly at the top of his voice, that she didn't get
any sleep all the next night. Next morning the <Caravan> was
out of the treacherous Bay. Relieved of the major part of his responsibility
for the safety of the ship, the pilot's oaths became fewer.
Slowly she moved up the Hooghli River, a mouth of the mighty Ganges,
toward Calcutta. Ann was entranced with the view, as
were her husband and friends. Running across the deck, which was empty
now that the livestock had been killed and eaten, they sniffed the spice-laden
breezes that came from the shore, each pointing out new and
exciting wonders to the other. Out came the journal and in it
went Ann's own description of the scene: "On each side
of the Hoogli, where we are now sailing, are the Hindoo cottages, as
thick together as the houses in our seaports. They are very small,
and in the form of haystacks, without either chimney or windows. They
are situated in the midst of trees, which hang over them, and appear
truly romantick. The grass and fields of rice are perfectly green, and
herds of cattle are everywhere feeding on the banks of the river, and
the natives are scattered about differently employed. Some are fishing,
some driving the team, and many are sitting indolently on the banks
of the river. The pagodas we have passed are much larger than the
houses". Harriet was just as delighted. Where were the hardships
she had expected? She was certain now that it would be no harder
to bear her child here in such pleasant surroundings than at home
in the big white house in Haverhill. With childlike innocence she wrote
of the Indians as "walking with fruit and umbrellas in their hands,
with the tawny children around them **h. This is the most delightful
<trial> I have ever had", she decided. The Indians
who came aboard ship to collect the mail also interested her greatly,
even if she was suitably shocked, according to the customs of the society
in which she had been reared, to find them "naked, except a piece
of cotton cloth wrapped around their middle". At last they
saw Calcutta, largest city of Bengal and the <Caravan's> destination.
Founded August 24, 1690 by Job Charnock of the East India
Company, and commonly called "The City of Palaces", it seemed
a vast and elegant place to Ann Hasseltine Judson. Solid brick
buildings painted dazzling white, large domes and tall, picturesque palms
stretched as far as the eye could see, while the wharves and harbor
were filled with tall-masted sailing ships. The noise stunned her.
Crowds flocked through the waterfront streets chattering loudly in their
strange-sounding Bengali tongue. Harriet's mouth watered
with anticipation when after months of dreaming she sat down at last
to her much-craved milk and fresh bread. Ann, pleased to see her friend
happy, was intrigued by the new fruits a friend of Captain Heard
had sent on board for their enjoyment. Cautiously she sampled her first
pineapple and another fruit whose taste she likened to that of "a
rich pear". Though she did not then know its name, this strange new
fruit was a banana.

#SIX#
The first act of Adoniram and Samuel
on reaching Calcutta was to report at the police station, a necessity
when landing in East India Company territory. On the way they
tried to discover all they could about Burma, and they were disturbed
to find that Michael Symes's book had not presented an altogether
true picture. He had failed to realize that the Burmese were not really
treating him as the important visitor he considered himself. They
were in fact quietly laughing at him, for their King wished to have
nothing to do with the Western world. When Captain John Gibault
of Salem had visited Burma in 1793 his ship, the <Astra>, had been
promptly commandeered and taken by her captors up the Irrawaddy River.
Although after much trouble he did manage to get it back, he discovered
there was no trade to be had. All Captain Gibault took back
to Salem were a few items for the town's East India Museum. A
year later another Salem ship returned from Burma with a cargo of gum
lacquer which nobody wanted to buy. After that Salem ships decided
to bypass unfriendly Burma. The Burmese appeared to have little
knowledge of British power or any idea of trade. They despised
foreigners. Cruel Burmese governors could, on the slightest whim, take
a man's life. As for missionaries, even if they succeeded in getting
into the country they probably would not be allowed to preach the
Christian faith to the Burmans. Unspeakable tortures or even execution
might well be their fate. "Go back to America or any
other place", well-meaning friends of Captain Heard advised them,
"but put thoughts of going to Burma out of your heads". Somewhat
daunted, the two American missionaries reached the police station
where they were questioned by a most unfriendly clerk. When he discovered
they had received from the Company's Court of Directors
no permission to live in India, coupled with the fact that they were
Americans who had been sent to Asia to convert "the heathen", he
became more belligerent than ever. They explained that they
desired only to stop in India until a ship traveling on to Burma could
be found.
She describes, first, the imaginary reaction of a foreigner puzzled by
this "unseasonable exultation"; he is answered by a confused,
honest Englishman. The reasons for the Whig joy on this occasion are
found to be their expectation of regaining control of the government,
their delight at the prospect of a new war, their hopes of having the
Tories hanged, and so on. As for the author of the <Englishman,>
Mrs& Manley sarcastically deplores that the sole defense of the
Protestant cause should be left to "<Ridpath, Dick Steele,> and
their Associates, with the Apostles of <Young Man's> Coffee-House".

Another controversy typical of the war between the

<Englishman> and the <Examiner> centered on Robert (later Viscount)
Molesworth, a Whig leader in Ireland and a member of the Irish
Privy Council. On December 21, the day that the Irish House
of Commons petitioned for removal of Sir Constantine Phipps, their
Tory Lord Chancellor, Molesworth reportedly made this remark on the
defense of Phipps by Convocation: "They that have turned the
world upside down, are come hither also". Upon complaints from the
Lower House of Convocation to the House of Lords, he was removed
from the Privy Council, his remark having been represented as a blasphemous
affront to the clergy. Steele, who had earlier praised Molesworth
in <Tatler> No& 189, now defended him in <Englishman>
No& 46, depicting his removal as a setback to the Constitution. On
the other hand, Molesworth was naturally assailed in the Tory press.
Swift, in the Dublin edition of <A Preface to the Bishop of Sarum's
Introduction,> indicated his feelings by including Molesworth,
along with Toland, Tindal, and Collins, in the group of those
who, like Burnet, are engaged in attacking all Convocations of the clergy.
In the same way he coupled Molesworth and Wharton in a letter
to Archbishop King, and he had earlier described him as "the worst
of them" in some "Observations" on the Irish Privy Council
submitted to Oxford. A month later, in <The Publick Spirit of
the Whigs,> he used Steele's defense of Molesworth as evidence of
his disrespect for the clergy, calling Steele's position an affront
to the "whole Convocation of <Ireland>". On this issue, then,
as on so many in these months, Steele and Swift took rigidly opposed
points of view. In the early months of 1714, the battle
between Swift and Steele over the issue of the Succession entered its
major phase. The preliminaries ended with the publication of Steele's
<Crisis> on January 19, and from that point on the fight proceeded
at a rapid pace. In answer to <The Crisis,> Swift produced
<The Publick Spirit of the Whigs,> his most extensive and bitter
attack on his old friend. By this time, as we shall see, the Tories
were already planning to "punish" Steele for his political writing
by expelling him from the House of Commons. Despite his defense
of himself in the final paper of the <Englishman> and in his speech
before the House, their efforts were successful. Steele lost his
seat in Parliament, and his personal quarrel with Swift, by now a public
issue, thus reached its climax. Of all the Whig tracts
written in support of the Succession, <The Crisis> is perhaps the
most significant. Certainly it is the most pretentious and elaborate.
Hanoverian agents assisted in promoting circulation, said to have reached
40,000, and if one may judge by the reaction of Swift and other
government writers, the work must have had considerable impact. Steele's
main business here is to arouse public opinion to the immediate
danger of a Stuart Restoration. To this end, the first and longest
section of the tract cites all the laws enacted since the Revolution
to defend England against the "Arbitrary Power of a Popish Prince".
In his comment on these laws Steele sounds all the usual notes
of current Whig propaganda, ranging from a criticism of the Tory
peace to an attack on the dismissal of Marlborough; but his principal
theme is that the intrigues of the Tories, "our Popish or Jacobite
Party", pose an immediate threat to Church and State. Like
Burnet, he deplores the indifference of the people in the face of the
crisis. Treasonable books striking at the Hanoverian Succession,
he complains, are allowed to pass unnoticed. In this connection, Swift,
too, is drawn in for attack: "The Author of the Conduct of
the Allies has dared to drop Insinuations about altering the Succession".
In his effort to stir the public from its lethargy, Steele
goes so far as to list Catholic atrocities of the sort to be expected
in the event of a Stuart Restoration, and, with rousing rhetoric, he
asserts that the only preservation from these "Terrours" is to
be
found in the laws he has so tediously cited. "It is no time", he
writes, "to talk with Hints and Innuendos, but openly and honestly
to profess our Sentiments before our Enemies have compleated and put
their Designs in Execution against us". Steele apparently
professed his sentiments in this book too openly and honestly for his
own good, since the government was soon to use it as evidence against
him in his trial before the House. In the final issues of the <Englishman,>
which ended just as the new session of Parliament began,
he provided his enemies with still more ammunition. For example, No&
56 printed the patent giving the Electoral Prince the title of Duke
of Cambridge. In a few months the Duke was to be the center of
a controversy of some significance on the touchy question of the Protestant
Succession. At the order of the Dowager Electress, the Hanoverian
agents, supported by the Whig leaders, demanded that a writ
of summons be issued which would call the Duke to England to sit in
Parliament, thus further insuring the Succession by establishing a Hanoverian
Prince in England before the Queen's death. Anne was
furious, and Bolingbroke advised that the request be refused. Oxford,
realizing that the law required the issuance of the writ, took the opposite
view, for which the Queen never forgave him. Accordingly the
request was granted, but the Elector himself, who had not been consulted
by his mother, rejected the proposal and recalled his agent Schu^tz,
whose impolitic handling of the affair had caused the Hanoverian
interest to suffer and had made Oxford's dismissal more likely
than ever. Steele in this paper is indicating his sympathy for such a
plan. A few days after this <Englishman> appeared, Defoe reported
to Oxford that Steele was expected to move in Parliament that the
Duke be called over; Defoe then commented, "If they Could Draw
that young Gentleman into Their Measures They would show themselves
quickly, for they are not asham'd to Say They want Onely a head
to Make a beginning". The final issue of the <Englishman,>
No& 57 for February 15, ran to some length and was printed
as a separate pamphlet, entitled <The Englishman: Being the Close
of the Paper So-called>. Steele's purpose is to present a general
defense of his political writing and a resume of the themes which
had occupied him in the <Englishman;> but there is much here also
which bears directly on his personal quarrel with Swift. Thus he complains,
with considerable justice, that the Tory writers have resorted
to libel instead of answering his arguments. His birth, education,
and fortune, he says, have all been ridiculed simply because he has
spoken with the freedom of an Englishman, and he assures the reader that
"whoever talks with me, is speaking to a Gentleman born". As
notable examples of this abuse, he quotes passages from the <Examiner,>
"that Destroyer of all things", and <The Character of Richard
Steele,> which he here attributes to Swift. Though put in rather
maudlin terms, Steele's defense of himself has a reasonable basis.
His point is simply that the Tories have showered him with personal
satire, despite the fact that as a private subject he has a right
to speak on political matters without affronting the prerogative of
the Sovereign. He claims, too, that his political convictions are simply
those which are called "Revolution Principles" and which are
accepted by moderate men in both parties. The final section
of this pamphlet is of special interest in a consideration of Steele's
relations with Swift. It purports to be a letter from Steele to
a friend at court, who, in Miss Blanchard's opinion, could only be
meant as Swift. Steele first answers briefly the charges which his
"dear old Friend" has made about his pamphlet on Dunkirk and
his
<Crisis>. Then he launches into an attack on the Tory ministers,
whom he calls the "New Converts"; by this term he means to ridicule
their professions of acting in the interest of the Church despite
their own education and manner of life- a gibe, in other words,
at the "Presbyterianism" in Harley's family and at Bolingbroke's
reputed impiety. The Tory leaders, he insinuates, are cynically
using the Church as a political "By-word" to increase party friction
and keep themselves in power. This is the principal point made
in this final section of <Englishman> No& 57, and it caps Steele's
efforts in his other writing of these months to counteract the
notion of the Tories as a "Church Party" supported by the body
of the clergy. Next, Steele turns his attention to the "Courtier"
he is addressing. He explains that there are sometimes honorable
courtiers, but that too often a man who succeeds at court does not
hesitate to sacrifice his Sovereign and nation to his own avarice
and ambition. Such, he implies, is the case with his friend, who is not
really a new convert himself but merely a favorer of new converts.
If "Jack the Courtier" is really to be taken as Swift, the following
remark is obviously Steele's comment on Swift's change of
parties and its effect on their friendship: "I assure you, dear
<Jack,> when I first found out such an Allay in you, as makes you
of so malleable a Constitution, that you may be worked into any Form
an Artificer pleases, I foresaw I should not enjoy your Favour much
longer". He closes his "letter" by demanding that Dunkirk
be demolished, that the Pretender be forced to move farther away from
the coast of England, and that the Queen and the House of Hanover
come to a better understanding. The last point was soon to be included
in the "seditious" remarks used against him in Parliament.

The <Examiner,> during Steele's trial a month later, printed

an answer from the "courtier" addressed to "R& S&" at
Button's coffee-house. He reviews Steele's entrance into politics
and finds that his present difficulties are due to his habit of attributing
to his own abilities and talents achievements which more properly
should be credited to the indulgence of his friends. Once more,
in other words, Steele is said to be indebted to Swift for his "wit";
this was the form in which their private feud most often appeared
in the Tory press, especially the <Examiner>. In <The Publick
Spirit of the Whigs,> it may be noted, Swift himself contemptuously
dismissed Steele's reference to his friend at court: "I
suppose by the Style of <old Friend,> and the like, it must be some
Body <there> of his own Level; among whom, his Party have indeed
more <Friends> than I could wish". On February 16,
Steele took his seat in Parliament. By now he was undergoing a fresh
torrent of abuse from Tory papers and pamphlets, and action was being
taken to effect his punishment by expulsion from Parliament. On the
very day that the parliamentary session began, another "Infamous
Libel" appeared, entitled <A Letter from the Facetious Dr&
Andrew Tripe, at Bath, to the Venerable Nestor Ironside>. It is
filled with the usual personal abuse of Steele, especially of his physical
appearance; in the opening paragraph, too, Steele is accused
of extreme egotism, of giving "himself the preference to all the learned,
his contemporaries, from Dr& Sw-ft himself, even down to
Poet Cr-spe of the Customhouse".
When Harold Arlen returned to California in the winter of 1944, it
was to take up again a collaboration with Johnny Mercer, begun some
years before. The film they did after his return was an inconsequential
bit of nothing titled <Out of This World,> a satire on the Sinatra
bobby-soxer craze. The twist lay in using Bing Crosby's voice
on the sound track while leading man Eddie Bracken mouthed the
words. If nothing else, at least two good songs came out of the project,
"Out of This World" and "June Comes Around Every Year".

Though they would produce some very memorable and lasting

songs, Arlen and Mercer were not given strong material to work on.
Their first collaboration came close. Early in 1941 they were assigned
to a script titled <Hot Nocturne>. It purported to be a reasonably
serious attempt at a treatment of jazz musicians, their aims, their
problems- the tug-of-war between the "pure" and the "commercial"-
and seemed a promising vehicle, for the two men shared a
common interest in jazz. Johnny Mercer practically grew up with
the sound of jazz and the blues in his ears. He was born in Savannah,
Georgia, in 1909. His father, George A& Mercer, was descended
from an honored Southern family that could trace its ancestry back
to one Hugh Mercer, who had emigrated from Scotland in 1747.

The lyricist's father was a lawyer who had branched out into
real estate. His second wife, Lillian, was the mother of John H&
Mercer. By the age of six young Johnny indicated that he had the
call. One day he followed the Irish Jasper Greens, the town band,
to a picnic and spent the entire day listening, while his family spent
the day looking. The disappearance caused his family to assign a full-time
maid to keeping an eye on the boy. But one afternoon Mrs&
Mercer met her; both were obviously on the way to the Mercer home.
The mother inquired, "Where's Johnny, and why did you leave him"?
"There was nothing else I could do", the maid answered,
satisfied with a rather vague explanation. But Mrs& Mercer demanded
more. The maid then told her, "Because he fired me". With
her son evidencing so strong a musical bent his mother could do little
else but get him started on the study of music- though she waited
until he was ten- beginning with the piano and following that with
the trumpet. Young Mercer showed a remarkable lack of aptitude for
both instruments. Still, he did like music making and even sang in
the chapel choir of the Woodberry Forest School, near Orange, Virginia,
where he sounded fine but did not matriculate too well.
When he was fifteen John H& Mercer turned out his first song, a
jazzy little thing he called "Sister Susie, Strut Your
Stuff".
If his scholarship and formal musicianship were not all they might have
been, Mercer demonstrated at an early age that he was gifted with
a remarkable ear for rhythm and dialect. From his playmates in Savannah,
Mercer had picked up, along with a soft Southern dialect, traces
also of the Gullah dialects of Africa. Such speech differences
made him acutely aware of the richness and expressivness of language.

During the summers, while he was still in school, Mercer worked

for his father's firm as a messenger boy. It generally took well
into the autumn for the firm to recover from the summer's help. "We'd
give him things to deliver, letters, checks, deeds and things
like that", remembers his half-brother Walter, still in the real estate
business in Savannah, "and learn days later that he'd absent-mindedly
stuffed them into his pocket. There they stayed".
This rather detached attitude toward life's encumbrances has seemed
to be the dominant trait in Mercer's personality ever since. It
is, however, a disarming disguise, or perhaps a shield, for not only has
Mercer proved himself to be one of the few great lyricists over the
years, but also one who can function remarkably under pressure. He
has also enjoyed a successful career as an entertainer (his records have
sold in the millions) and is a sharp businessman. He has also
an extraordinary conscience. In 1927 his father's business collapsed,
and, rather than go bankrupt, Mercer senior turned his firm over
to a bank for liquidation. He died before he could completely pay off
his debts. Some years later the bank handling the Mercer liquidation
received a check for $300,000, enough to clear up the debt. The check
had been mailed from Chicago, the envelope bore no return address,
and the check was not signed. "That's Johnny", sighed
the bank president, "the best-hearted boy in the world, but absent-minded".
But Mercer's explanation was simple: "I made out
the check and carried it around a few days unsigned- in case I lost
it". When he remembered that he might have not signed the check,
Mercer made out another for the same amount, instructing the bank to
destroy the other- especially if he had happened to have absent-mindedly
signed both of them. When the family business failed, Mercer
left school and on his mother's urging- for she hoped that he
would become an actor- he joined a local little theater group. When
the troupe traveled to New York to participate in a one-act-play competition-
and won- Mercer, instead of returning with the rest of
the company in triumph, remained in New York. He had talked one other
member of the group to stay with him, but that friend had tired of
not eating regularly and returned to Savannah. But Mercer hung on,
living, after a fashion, in a Greenwich Village fourth-flight walk-up.
"The place had no sink or washbasin, only a bathtub", his mother
discovered when she visited him. "Johnny insisted on cooking a
chicken dinner in my honor- he's always been a good cook- and I'll
never forget him cleaning the chicken in the tub". A story,
no doubt apocryphal, for Mercer himself denies it, has him sporting
a monacle in those Village days. Though merely clear glass, it
was a distinctive trade mark for an aspiring actor who hoped to imprint
himself upon the memories of producers. One day in a bar, so the legend
goes, someone put a beer stein with too much force on the monacle
and broke it. The innocent malfeasant, filled with that supreme sense
of honor found in bars, insisted upon replacing the destroyed monacle-
and did, over the protests of the former owner- with a square monacle.
Mercer is supposed to have refused it with, "Anyone who wears
a square monacle must be affected"! Everett Miller, then
assistant director for the <Garrick Gaieties>, a Theatre Guild
production, needed a lyricist for a song he had written; he just
happened not to need any actor at the moment, however. For him Mercer
produced the lyric to "Out of Breath Scared to Death of You",
introduced in that most successful of all the <Gaieties>, by Sterling
Holloway. This 1930 edition also had songs in it by Vernon Duke
and Ira Gershwin, by E& Y& Harburg and Duke, and by Harry
Myers. Entrance into such stellar song writing company encouraged
the burgeoning song writer to take a wife, Elizabeth Meehan, a dancer
in the <Gaieties>. The Mercers took up residence in Brooklyn,
and Mercer found a regular job in Wall Street "misplacing stocks
and bonds". When he heard that Paul Whiteman was looking
for singers to replace the Rhythm Boys, Mercer applied and got the
job, "not for my voice, I'm sure, but because I could write songs
and material generally". While with the Whiteman band Mercer met
Jerry Arlen. He had yet to meet Harold Arlen, for although they
had "collaborated" on "Satan's Li'l Lamb", Mercer and
Harburg had worked from a lead sheet the composer had furnished them.
The lyric, Mercer remembers, was tailored to fit the unusual melody.

Mercer's Whiteman association brought him into contact

with
Hoagy Carmichael, whose "Snowball" Mercer relyriced as "Lazybones",
in which form it became a hit and marked the real beginning
of Mercer's song-writing career. After leaving Whiteman, Mercer
joined the Benny Goodman band as a vocalist. With the help of Ziggy
Elman, also in the band, he transformed a traditional Jewish melody
into a popular song, "And the Angels Sing". The countrywide
success of "Lazybones" and "And the Angels Sing" could only
lead to Hollywood, where, besides Harold Arlen, Mercer collaborated
with Harry Warren, Jimmy Van Heusen, Richard Whiting, Walter
Donaldson, Jerome Kern, and Arthur Schwartz. Mercer has also
written both music and lyrics for several songs. He may be the only
song writer ever to have collaborated with a secretary of the U& S&
Treasury; he collaborated on a song with William Hartman Woodin,
who was Secretary of the Treasury, 1932-33. When Johnny
Mercer and Harold Arlen began their collaboration in 1940, Mercer,
like Arlen, had several substantial film songs to his credit, among
them "Hooray for Hollywood", "Ride, Tenderfoot, Ride",
"Have You Got Any Castles, Baby?", and "Too Marvelous
for Words" (all with Richard Whiting); with Harry Warren he
did "The Girl Friend of the Whirling Dervish", "Jeepers Creepers",
and "You Must Have Been a Beautiful Baby". Mercer's
lyrics are characterized by an unerring ear for rhythmic nuances,
a puckish sense of humor expressed in language with a colloquial flair.
Though versatile and capable of turning out a ballad lyric with
the best of them, Mercer's forte is a highly polished quasi-folk wit.

His casual, dreamlike working methods, often as not <in absentia>,

were an abrupt change from Harburg's, so that Arlen had
to adjust again to another approach to collaboration. There were times
that he worked with both lyricists simultaneously. Speaking
of his work with Johnny Mercer, Arlen says, "Our working habits
were strange. After we got a script and the spots for the songs were
blocked out, we'd get together for an hour or so every day. While Johnny
made himself comfortable on the couch, I'd play the tunes for
him. He has a wonderfully retentive memory. After I would finish
playing the songs, he'd just go away without a comment. I wouldn't
hear from him for a couple of weeks, then he'd come around with the
completed lyric". Arlen is one of the few (possibly the only)
composer Mercer has been able to work with so closely, for they held
their meetings in Arlen's study. "Some guys bothered me",
Mercer has said. "I couldn't write with them in the same room with
me, but I could with Harold. He is probably our most original composer;
he often uses very odd rhythms, which makes it difficult, and
challenging, for the lyric writer". While Arlen and Mercer
collaborated on <Hot Nocturne>, Mercer worked also with Arthur
Schwartz on another film, <Navy Blues>. Arlen, too, worked on
other projects at the same time with old friend Ted Koehler. Besides
doing a single song, "When the Sun Comes Out", they worked on
the ambitious <Americanegro Suite>, for voices and piano, as well
as songs for films. The <Americanegro Suite> is in a sense
an extension of the Cotton Club songs in that it is a collection
of Negro songs, not for a night club, but for the concert stage. The
work had its beginning in 1938 with an eight-bar musical strain to which
Koehler set the words "There'll be no more work/ There'll
be no
more worry", matching the spiritual feeling of the jot. This grew
into the song "Big Time Comin'". By September 1940 the suite
had developed into a collection of six songs, "four spirituals, a
dream, and a lullaby". The Negro composer Hall Johnson studied
the <Americanegro Suite> and said of it, "Of all the many
songs written by white composers and employing what claims to be a Negroid
idiom in both words and music, these six songs by Harold Arlen
and Ted Koehler easily stand far out above the rest. Thoroughly
modern in treatment, they are at the same time, full of simple sincerity
which invariably characterizes genuine Negro folk-music and are by
no means to be confused with the average 'Broadway Spirituals'
which depend for their racial flavor upon sundry allusions to the 'Amen
Corner', 'judgement day', 'Gabriel's horn', and a
frustrated devil- with a few random 'Hallelujahs' thrown in for
good measure.
I feel obliged to describe this cubbyhole. It had a single porcelain
stall and but one cabinet for the chairing of the bards. It was
here that the terror-stricken Dennis Moon played an unrehearsed role
during the children's party. A much larger room, adjacent to the
lavatory, served as a passageway to and from the skimpy toilet. That
unused room was large enough for- well, say an elephant could get
into it **h and, as a matter of fact, an elephant <did> **h Something
occurred on the morning of the children's party which may
illustrate the kind of trouble our restricted toilet facilities caused
us. It so happened that sports writer Arthur Robinson got out of the
hospital that morning after promising his doctor that he would be back
in
an hour or two to continue his convalescence. Arthur Robinson traveled
with the baseball clubs as staff correspondent for the <American>.
He was ghost writer for Babe Ruth, whose main talent for literary
composition was the signing of his autograph. Robbie was a war veteran
with battle-shattered knees. He arrived on crutches at the
Newspaper Club with one of his great pals, Oliver Herford, artist,
author, and foe of stupidity. Mr& Herford's appearance was that
of a frustrated gnome. He seemed timid (<at first>), wore nose glasses
from which a black ribbon dangled, and was no bigger than a jockey.
Robinson asked Herford to escort him to the club's lavatory before
they sat down for a highball and a game of cards. In the jakes,
after Robbie and his crutches were properly stowed, Mr& Herford
went to the adjoining facility. He had barely assumed his stance there
when a fat fellow charged through the doorway. Without any regard for
rest-room protocol, the hulking stranger almost knocked Herford off
his pins. The artist-author said nothing, but stood to one side. He
waited a long time. Nothing was said, nothing accomplished. The unrelieved
stranger eventually turned away from the place of his- shall
we dare say his Waterloo?- to go to the door. Mr& Herford
touched the fat man's arm. "Pardon me, sir. May I say that
you have just demonstrated the truth of an old proverb- the younger
Pliny's, if memory serves me- which, translated freely from the
archaic Latin, says, 'The more haste, the less peed'".

Governor Alfred E& Smith was the official host at the children's
party. United States Senator Royal S& Copeland was wearing
the robes of Santa Claus and a great white beard; the Honorable
Robert Wagner, Sr&, at that time a justice of the New York Supreme
Court, was on the reception committee. I was in charge of the
arrangements- which were soon enough disarranged. I had had
difficulties from the very first day. When, in my enthusiasm, I proposed
the party, my city editor (who disliked the club and many of its
members) tried to block my participation in the gala event. Even earlier
than that he had resented the fact that I had been chosen to edit
the club's <Reporter>. City editor Victor Watson of the
New York <American> was a man of brooding suspicions and mysterious
shifts of mood. Mr& Hearst's telegraphic code word for Victor
Watson was "fatboy". The staff saw in him the qualities of a
Don Cossack, hence, as mentioned before, his nickname "the Hetman".

The Hetman's physical aspects were not those of a savage

rider of the steppes. Indeed, he looked more like a well-fleshed
lay brother of the Hospice of St& Bernard. Nor were his manners
barbaric. He had a purring voice and poker player's immobility of features
which somehow conveyed the feeling that he knew where all the
bodies were buried. He was the son of a Scottish father and an American
Jewish mother, long widowed, with whom he lived in a comfortable
home in Flushing. He had worked in the newspaper business since he
was nineteen years old, always for the Hearst service. From the very
first he regarded himself as Mr& Hearst's disciple, defender, and
afterward his prime minister, self-ordained. It was said that
the Hetman plotted to take over the entire Hearst newspaper empire
one day by means of various coups: the destruction of editors who
tried to halt his course, the unfrocking of publishers whose mistakes
of judgment might be magnified in secret reports to Mr& Hearst. Whatever
the Hetman's ambitions, his colleagues were kept ill at ease.
Among the outstanding members of the Hearst cabinet whom he successfully
opposed for a time were the great Arthur Brisbane, Bradford
Merrill, S&S& Carvalho, and Colonel Van Hamm. He also disliked
Runyon, for no good reason other than the fact that the Demon's
talent was so marked as to put him well beyond the Hetman's say-so
or his supervision. Runyon, for his part, had a contemptuous
regard for Mr& Watson. "He's a wrong-o", said Runyon,
"and I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw the Statue of
Liberty". Arthur "Bugs" Baer wrote to me just recently,
"Vic wanted to die in harness, with his head towards the wagon.
He supported his mother and his brother, who afterwards committed
suicide. Watson told me that his brother always sent roses to his mother,
blossoms bought with Vic's allowance to him. 'And would you
believe it', Vic added, 'she likes him better than she does me.
Why'"? About the only time the Hetman seemed excited
was
when one of his own pet ideas was born. Then he would get to his feet,
as though rising in honor of his own remarkable powers, and say almost
invariably, "Gentlemen, this is an amazing story! It's bigger
than the Armistice". Some of the Hetman's "ideas"
were dream-ridden, vaguely imparted, and at times preposterous. One
day he assigned me to lay bare a "plot" by the Duponts to supply
munitions to a wholly fictitious revolution he said was about to occur
in Cuba. He said that his information was so secret that he would
not be able to confide in me the origin of his pipeline tip. "I
can tell you this much", he said. It's bigger than the Armistice".

I worked for a day on this plainly ridiculous assignment

and consulted several of my own well-informed sources. Then I spent
the next two days at the baseball park and at Jack Doyle's pool
parlors. When I returned to make my report, the Hetman did not remember
having sent me on the secret mission. He was busy, he said, in
having someone submit to a monkey-gland operation. And I was to go
to work on that odd matter. I shall tell of it later on. The
Hetman had a strong liking for a story, any story which was to be had
by means of much sleuthing or by roundabout methods. Most of my stories
were obtained by simply seeking out the person who could give me
the facts, and not as a rule by playing clever tricks. One day
I tired of following the Hetman's advice of "shadowing" and
of the "ring-around-the-rosie" approach to a report that Enrico Caruso
had pinched a lady's hip while visiting the Central Park monkey
house. I explained my state of mind to artist Winsor McCay and
to "Bugs" Baer. Mr& Baer obtained a supply of crepe hair and
spirit-gum from an actor at the Friars. We fashioned beards, put
them on, and reported to the Hetman at the city desk. Mr&
Baer had an auburn beard, like Longfellow's. Mr& McCay had on
a sort of Emperor Maximilian beard and mustache. As for myself, I
had on an enormous black "muff". This, together with a derby hat
and horn-rim eyeglasses, gave me the appearance of a Russian nihilist.
"We are ready for your next mysterious assignment", said
Mr& Baer to the Hetman. "Where to, sir"? Mr& Watson
did not have much humor in his make-up, but he managed a mirthless
smile. Just then a reporter telephoned in from the Bronx to give
the rewrite desk an account of a murder. The Hetman told me to take
the story over the phone and to write it. While I was sitting at one
of the rewrite telephones with my derby and my great beard, Arthur
Brisbane whizzed in with some editorial copy in his hand. He paused
for a moment to look at me, then went on to the city desk to deliver
his "Today" column. I thought it expedient to take off my
derby, my glasses, and the beard; and also to change telephones. I
managed to do this by the time the great A&B& returned to the place
where he last had seen the fierce nihilist. He stood there staring
with disbelief at the vacant desk. Then he wrinkled his huge brow
and went slowly out of the room. He had a somewhat goggle-eyed expression.
He had been "seeing things". The Hetman's
"ideas"
for news stories or editorial campaigns were by no means always fruitless
or lacking in merit. He campaigned successfully for the riddance
of "Death Avenue" and also brought about the ending of pollution
of metropolitan beaches by sewage. He exposed the bucket-shop racket
with the able assistance of two excellent reporters, Nat Ferber
and Carl Helm. In the conduct of these and many other campaigns, the
Hetman proved to be a much abler journalist than his critics allowed.

It seems to me now, in a long backward glance, that many of

the Hetman's conceits and odd actions- together with his grim posture
when brandishing the hatchet in the name of Mr& Hearst- were
keyed with the tragedy which was to close over him one day. Alone,
rejected on every hand, divorced, and in financial trouble, he leaped
from an eleventh-floor window of the Abbey Hotel in 1937. One
finds it difficult to pass censure on the lonely figure who waited
for days for a saving word from his zealously served idol, W&R&
Hearst. That word was withheld when the need of it seemed the measure
of his despair. The unfinished note, written in pencil upon the back
of a used envelope, and addressed to the coroner, makes one wonder
about many things: "God forgive me for everything. <I cannot>
**h" Much to Damon Runyon's amazement, as well as my own,
I got along splendidly with the Hetman; that is, until I became
an editor, hence, in his eyes, a rival. Not long after Colonel Van
Hamm had foisted me on the Watson staff I received a salary raise
and a contract on the Hetman's recommendation. During the next years
he gave me the second of the five contracts I would sign with the
Hearst Service. It was a somewhat unusual thing for a reporter to
have a contract in those days before the epidemic of syndicated columnists.
I would like to believe that my ability warranted this advancement.
Somehow I think that Watson paid more attention to me than he
otherwise might have because his foe, Colonel Van Hamm, wouldn't
touch me with a ten-foot blue pencil. I remember one day when
Mr& Hearst (and I never knew why <he> liked me, either) sent the
Hetman a telegram: "Please find some more reporters like that
young man from Denver". Watson showed this wire to Colonel Van Hamm.
The colonel grunted, then made a remark which might be construed
in either of two ways. "Don't bother to look any further. We already
<have> the only one of its kind". The Hetman did have
friends, but they were mostly outside the newspaper profession. Sergeant
Mike Donaldson, Congressional Medal of Honor soldier, was
one of them. Dr& Menas S& Gregory was another. I used to go
with Watson to call on the eminent neurologist at his apartment, to sit
among the doctor's excellent collection of statues, paintings, and
books and drink Oriental coffee while Watson seemed to thaw out and
become almost affable. There was one time, however, when his
face clouded and he suddenly blurted, "Why did my brother commit
suicide"? I cannot remember Dr& Gregory's reply, if,
indeed, he made one.
If she were not at home, Mama would see to it that a fresh white rose
was there. Sometimes, Mrs& Coolidge would close herself in the
Green Suite on the second floor, and play the piano she had brought
to the White House. Mama knew she was playing her son's favorite
pieces and feeling close to him, and did not disturb her. All
the rest of the days in the White House would be shadowed by the tragic
loss, even though the President tried harder than ever to make his
little dry jokes and to tease the people around him. A little
boy came to give the President his personal condolences, and the President
gave word that any little boy who wanted to see him was to be
shown in. Backstairs, the maids cried a little over that, and the standing
invitation was not mentioned to Mrs& Coolidge. The
President was even more generous with the First Lady than he had been
before the tragedy. He would bring her boxes of candy and other presents
to coax a smile to her lips. He brought her shawls. Dresses
were short in the days of Mrs& Coolidge, and Spanish shawls
were thrown over them. He got her dozens of them. One shawl was so
tremendous that she could not wear it, so she draped it over the banister
on the second floor, and it hung over the stairway. The President
used to look at it with a ghost of a smile. Mrs& Coolidge
spent more time in her bedroom among her doll collection. She kept
the dolls on the Lincoln bed. At night, when Mama would turn back the
covers, she would have to take all the dolls off the bed and place
them elsewhere for the night. Mama always felt that the collection symbolized
Mrs& Coolidge's wish for a little girl. Among the
dolls was one that meant very much to the First Lady, who would pick
it up and look at it often. It had a tiny envelope tied to its wrist.
An accompanying sympathetic letter explained that inside the envelope
was a name for Mrs& Coolidge's first granddaughter. Mama
knew this doll was meant to help Mrs& Coolidge overcome her grief
by turning her eyes to the future. The name inside the envelope was "Cynthia".

The Coolidges' life, after the death of their

son, was quieter than ever. John was away at school most of the time.
Mrs& Coolidge would knit, and the President would sit reading,
or playing with the many pets around them. Now and then, the
President would call for "Little Jack, Master of the Hounds",
which was his nickname for a messenger who had worked in the White House
since Teddy Roosevelt's administration, and discuss the welfare
of some one of the animals. It was part of Little Jack's work
to look after the dogs. One White House dog was immortalized
in a painting. That was Rob Roy, who posed with Mrs& Coolidge
for the portrait by Howard Chandler Christy. To get him to pose,
Mrs& Coolidge would feed him candy, so he enjoyed the portrait sessions
as well as she did. I would like to straighten out a misconception
about the dress Mrs& Coolidge is wearing in this painting.
It is not the same dress as the one on her manikin in the Smithsonian.
People think the dress in the picture was lengthened by an artist
much later on. This is not true. The dress in the painting is a
bright red, with rhinestones forming a spray on the right side. There
is a long train flowing from the shoulders. Mrs& Coolidge
gave Mama this dress for me, and I wore it many times. I still have
the dress, and I hope to give it to the Smithsonian Institution
as a memento, or, as I more fondly hope, to present it to a museum containing
articles showing the daily lives of the Presidents- if I
can get it organized. But to get back to the Coolidge household,
Mrs& Coolidge so obviously loved dogs, that the public sent her
more dogs- Calamity Jane, Timmy, and Blackberry. The last two
were a red and a black chow. Rob Roy remained boss of all the dogs.
He showed them what to do, and taught them how to keep the maids around
the White House in a state of terror. The dogs would run
through the halls after him like a burst of bullets, and all the maids
would run for cover. Mama didn't know what to do- whether to tell
on Rob Roy or not- since she had the ear of Mrs& Coolidge
more than the other maids. But she was afraid the First Lady would
not understand, because Rob Roy was a perfect angel with the First
Family. Every day, when the President took his nap, Rob Roy
would stretch out on the window seat near him, like a perfect gentleman,
and stare thoughtfully out the window, or he would take a little
nap himself. He would not make a sound until the President had wakened
and left for the office; then he would bark to let everyone know
the coast was clear. His signal was for the other dogs to come running,
but it was also the signal for Mama and the other maids to watch
out. Rob Roy was self-appointed to accompany the President to
his office every morning. Rob Roy was well aware of the importance
of this mission, and he would walk in front of the President, looking
neither to the right nor to the left. At dinner, lunch, or breakfast,
the President would call out, "Supper"!- he called
all meals supper- after the butler had announced the meal. All the
dogs would dash to get on the elevator with the President and go to
the dining room. They would all lie around on the rug during the meal,
a very pretty sight as Rob Roy, Prudence, and Calamity Jane were
all snow-white. When Prudence and Blackberry were too young
to be trusted in the dining room, they were tied to the radiator with
their leashes, and they would cry. Mama tried to talk to them and keep
them quiet while she tidied up the sitting room before the First
Family returned. Finally, Mama did mention to Mrs& Coolidge
that she felt sorry for the little dogs, and then Mrs& Coolidge
decided to leave the radio on for them while she was gone, even though
her husband disapproved of the waste of electricity. Mama was
now the first maid to Mrs& Coolidge, because Catherine, the previous
first maid, had become ill and died. Mrs& Coolidge chose Mama
in her place. It was a high mark for Mama. Every First
Family seems to have one couple upon whom it relies for true friendship.
For the Coolidges, it was Mr& and Mrs& Frank W& Stearns
of Boston, Massachusetts, owners of a large department store. They
seemed to be at the White House half the time. The butlers were
amused because when the Stearns were there, the President would say
grace at breakfast. If the Stearns were not there, grace would be omitted.

Speaking of breakfast, the President inaugurated a new

custom- that of conducting business at the breakfast table. The word
was that this too was part of an economy move on his part. A new bill
had been passed under Harding that designated the Government, rather
than the President, as the tab-lifter for official meals. So the
President would make a hearty breakfast official by inviting Government
officials to attend. He caused a lot of talk when he also
chose the breakfast hour to have the barber come in and trim his hair
while he ate. Mama said that if Presidents were supposed to be colorful,
Mr& Coolidge certainly made a good president. He knew exactly
how to be colorful! The favorite guest of the house, as
far as the staff was concerned, was Mr& Wrigley, the chewing gum king.
The White House had chewing gum until it could chew no more, and
every Christmas, Mr& Wrigley sent the President a check for $100,
to be divided among all the help. You can imagine that he got pretty
good service. Another good friend of the Coolidges' was
George B& Harvey, who was the Ambassador to Great Britain from
1921 to 1923. He had been a friend of the Hardings, and continued
to be invited by the Coolidges. The first royalty whom Mama
ever waited on in the White House was Queen Marie of Rumania,
who came to a State dinner given in her honor on October 21, 1926.
She was not an overnight guest in the White House, but Mr& Ike
Hoover, the chief usher, had Mama check her fur coat when she came
in, and take care of her needs. Mama said she was one of the prettiest
ladies she had ever seen. Mama was very patriotic, and one of
the duties she was proudest of was repairing the edges of the flag that
flew above the White House. Actually, two flags were used at the
mansion- a small one on rainy days, and a big one on bright days.
The wool would become frazzled around the edges from blowing in the wind,
and Mama would mend it. She would often go up on the roof to see
the attendant take down the flag in the evening. She used to tell me,
"When I stand there and look at the flag blowing this way and that
way, I have the wonderful, safe feeling that Americans are protected
no matter which way the wind blows". Even when Mrs&
Coolidge was in mourning for her son, she reached out to help other people
in trouble. One person she helped was my brother. Mama had told
her how Emmett's lungs had been affected when he was gassed in the
war. He was in and out of Mount Alto Hospital for veterans any number
of times. Taking a personal interest, she had the doctor
assigned to the White House, Dr& James Coupal, look Emmett over.
As a result, he was sent to a hospital in Arizona until his health
improved enough for him to come back to Washington to work in the
Government service. But again, there was danger that his lungs would
suffer in the muggy Washington weather, and he had to return to the
dry climate of the West to live and work. When Mrs& Coolidge
was in mourning, she did not wear black. She wore grey every day,
and white every evening. Mama knew that she was out of mourning when
she finally wore bright colors. The President helped her a lot by selecting
some lovely colored dresses to get her started. She opened the
boxes with a tear in her eye and a sad smile on her face. On
the social side, the chore Mama had at the formal receptions at the
White House thrilled her the most. It was her job to stand at the
foot of the stairs, and, just as the First Lady stepped off the last
tread, Mama would straighten out her long train before she marched to
the Blue Room to greet her guests with the President. Mama would
enjoy the sight of the famous guests as much as anyone, and would note
a gown here and there to tell me about that night. One night,
Mama came home practically in a state of shock. She had stood at the
bottom of the stairs, as usual, when Mrs& Coolidge came down, in
the same dress that is now in the Smithsonian, to greet her guests.
Mama stooped down to fix the train, but there was no train there! She
reached and reached around the dress, but there was nothing there.
She looked up and saw that, without knowing it, Mrs& Coolidge was
holding it aloft. Mrs& Coolidge looked down, saw Mama's horrified
expression and quickly let the whole thing fall to the floor. Mama
swirled the train in place, and not a step was lost. The Coolidges
did not always live at the White House during the Presidency.

Impressive as this enumeration is, it barely hints at the diverse

perceptions of Jews, collectively or individually, that have been
attested by their Gentile environment. It is reasonable to affirm
two propositions: <Jews have been perceived by non-Jews as all things
to all men; some Jews have in fact been all things to all men>.
In the arena of power Jews have at one time or another been somebody's
ally; they have observed correct neutrality; they have been
someone's enemy. In the market place Jews have in fact under various
circumstances been valued customers and suppliers, or clannish monopolists
and cutthroat competitors. And so on through the roles referred
to in the previous paragraph. Diversity of perception, yes; diversity
of fact, yes. But the two do not invariably or even
typically coincide. The "conventional" image of a particular time
and place is not necessarily congruent with the image of the facts as
established over the years by scholarly and scientific research. Conventional
images of Jews have this in common with all perceptions of
a configuration in which one feature is held constant: images can be
both true and false. The genuinely interesting question, then,
becomes: What factors determine the degree of realism or distortion
in conventional images of Jews? The working test of "the facts"
must always be the best available description obtainable from scholars
and scientists who have applied their methods of investigation
to relevant situations. Granted, such "functional" images are subject
to human error; they are self-correcting in the sense that they
are subject to disciplined procedures that check and recheck against
error. In accounting for realism or distortion two sets of factors
can be usefully distinguished: current intelligence; predispositions
regarding intelligence. General Grant may have been the victim
of false information in the instance reported in this book; if so,
he would not be the first or last commanding officer who has succumbed
to bad information and dubious estimates of the future. But General
Grant may have been self-victimized. He may have entered the situation
with predispositions that prepared him to act uncritically in the
press of affairs. Predispositions, in turn, fall conveniently
into two categories for purposes of analysis. To some extent predispositions
are shaped by exposure to group environments. In some measure
they depend upon the structure of individual personality. The anti-Semitism
of Hitler owed something to his exposure to the ideology of
Lueger's politically successful Christian socialist movement in Vienna.
But millions of human beings were exposed to Lueger's propaganda
and record. After allowing for group exposures, it is apparent
that other factors must be considered if we are to comprehend fanaticism.
These are personality factors; they include harmonies and conflicts
within the whole man, and mechanisms whereby inner components are
more or less smoothly met. Modern psychiatric knowledge provides us
with many keys to unlock the significance of behavior of the kind.

The foregoing factors are pertinent to the analysis of perceptual

images and the broad conditions under which they achieve realism or
fall short of it. Undoubtedly one merit of the vast panorama of Gentile
conceptions of the Jew unfolded in the present anthology is that
it provides a formidable body of material that invites critical examination
in terms of reality. Many selections are themselves convincing
contributions to this appraisal. Undoubtedly, however, the significance
of the volume is greater than the foregoing paragraphs suggest.
Speaking as a non-Jew I believe that its primary contribution is
in the realm of future policy. Since we can neither undo nor redo the
past, we are limited to the events of today and tomorrow. In this
domain the simple fact of coexistence in the same local, national, and
world community is enough to guarantee that we cannot refrain from having
some effect, large or small, upon Gentile-Jewish relations. What
shall these effects be? I am deliberately raising the policy
problems involved in Gentile-Jewish relations. Comprehensive examination
of any policy question calls for the performance of the intellectual
tasks inseparable from any problem-solving method. The tasks
are briefly indicated by these questions: What are my goals in Gentile-Jewish
relations? What are the historical trends in this country
and abroad in the extent to which these goals are effectively realized?
What factors condition the degree of realization at various
times and places? What is the probable course of future developments?
What policies if adopted and applied in various circumstances will
increase the likelihood that future events will coincide with desired
events and do so at least cost in terms of all human values?

It is beyond the province of this epilogue to cover policy questions

of such depth and range. The discussion is therefore limited to a
suggested procedure for realizing at least some of the potential importance
of this volume for future policy. As a groundwork for the proposal
I give some attention to the first task enumerated above, the clarification
of goal. My reply is that I associate myself with
all those who affirm that Gentile-Jewish relations should contribute
to the theory and practice of human dignity. The basic goal finds partial
expression in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, a statement
initiated and endorsed by individuals and organizations of many
religious and philosophical traditions. Within this frame of
reference policies appropriate to claims advanced in the name of the
Jews depend upon which Jewish identity is involved, as well as upon
the nature of the claim, the characteristics of the claimant, the justifications
proposed, and the predispositions of the community decision
makers who are called upon to act. If Jews are identified as a religious
body in a controversy that comes before a national or international
tribunal, it is obviously compatible with the goal of human dignity
to protect freedom of worship. When decision makers act within this
frame they determine whether a claim put forward in the name of religion
is to be accepted by the larger community as appropriate to religion.
Since the recognition of Israel as a nation state, claims are made
in many cases which identify the claimant as a member of the new body
politic. Community decision makers must make up their minds whether
a claim is acceptable to the larger community in terms of prevailing
expectations regarding members of nation states. In free countries
many controversies involve self-styled Jews who use the symbol in asserting
a vaguely "cultural" rather than religious or political identity.
The decision maker who acts for the community as a whole must
decide whether the objectives pursued and the methods used are appropriate
to public policy regarding cultural groups. We know that
much is made of the multiplicity and ambiguity of the identities that
cluster around the key symbol of the Jew. Many public and private controversies
will undoubtedly continue to reflect these confusions in
the mind and usage of Gentile and Jew. However, in the context of legal
and civic policy, these controversies are less than novel. They
involve similar uncertainties regarding the multiple identities of any
number of non-Jewish groups. So far as the existing body of formal
principle and procedure is concerned, categorical novelties are not
to be anticipated in Jewish-Gentile relationships; claims are properly
disposed of according to norms common to all parties. It
is not implied that formal principles and procedures are so firmly entrenched
within the public order of the world community or even of free
commonwealths that they will control in all circumstances involving Jews
and Gentiles during coming years. Social process is always anchored
in past predisposition; but it is perennially restructured in situations
where anchors are dragged or lost. In conformance with the
maximization principle we affirm that Gentile-Jewish relations will
be harmonious or inharmonious to the degree that one relation or the
other is expected by the active participants to yield the greatest net
advantage, taking all value outcomes and effects into consideration.
It is not difficult to anticipate circumstances in which negative tensions
will cumulate; for instance, imagine the situation if Israel
ever joins an enemy coalition. The formal position of Americans who
identify themselves with one or more of the several identities of the
Jewish symbol is already clear; the future weight of informal factors
cannot be so easily assessed. When we consider the disorganized
state of the world community, and the legacy of predispositions adversely
directed against all who are identified as Jews, it is obvious
that the struggle for the minds and muscles of men needs to be prosecuted
with increasing vigor and skill. During moments of intense crisis
the responsibility of political leaders is overwhelming. But their
freedom of policy is limited by the pattern of predisposition with which
they and the people around them enter the crisis. At such critical
moments predispositions favorable to human dignity most obviously "pay
off". By the same test predispositions destructive of human personality
exercise their most sinister impact, with the result that men
of good will are often trapped and nullified. Among measures
in anticipation of crisis are plans to inject into the turmoil as assistants
of key decision makers qualified persons who are cognizant of
the corrosive effect of crisis upon personal relationships and are also
able to raise calm and realistic voices when overburdened leaders near
the limit of self-control. We are learning how to do these things
in some of the vast organized structures of modern society; the process
can be accelerated. A truism is that the time to prepare
for the worst is when times are best. During intercrisis periods the
educational facilities of the community have the possibility of remolding
the perspectives and altering the behavior of vast numbers of human
beings of every age and condition. As more men and women are made capable
of living up to the challenge of decency the chances are improved
that the pattern of predisposition prevailing in positions of strength
in future crises can be favorably affected. Now an abiding
difficulty of paragraphs like the foregoing is that they appear to preach;
and in contemporary society we often complain of too much reaffirmation
of the goodness of the good. In any case I do not intend to
let the present occasion pass without dealing more directly with the
problem of implementing good intentions. I assume that the number of
readers of this anthology who regard themselves as morally perfect is
small, and that most readers are willing to consider procedures by which
they may gain more insight into themselves and better understanding
of others. Properly used, the present book is an excellent instrument
of enlightenment. Let us not confuse the issue by labeling
the objective or the method "psychoanalytic", for this is a well established
term of art for the specific ideas and procedures initiated
by Sigmund Freud and his followers for the study and treatment of disordered
personalities. The traditional method proceeds by the technique
of free association, punctuated by interpretations proposed by the
psychoanalytic interviewer. What we have in mind does have
something in common with the goals of psychoanalysis and with the methods
by which they are sought. For what we propose, however, a psychoanalyst
is not necessary, even though one aim is to enable the reader to
get beneath his own defenses- his defenses of himself to himself.
For this purpose a degree of intellectual and emotional involvement is
necessary; but involvement needs to be accompanied by a special frame
of mind. The relatively long and often colorful selections
in this anthology enable the reader to become genuinely absorbed in
what is said, whether he responds with anger or applause. But simple
involvement is not enough; self-discovery calls for an open, permissive,
inquiring posture of self-observation. The symposium provides
an opportunity to confront the self with specific statements which
were made at particular times by identifiable communicators who were
addressing definite audiences- and throughout several hundred pages
everyone is talking about the same key symbol of identification.

An advantage of being exposed to such specificity about an important

and recurring feature of social reality is that it can be taken advantage
of by the reader to examine covert as well as overt resonances
within himself, resonances triggered by explicit symbols clustering around
the central figure of the Jew.

Two facets of this aspect of the literary process have special

significance for our time. One, a reservation on the point I have just
made, is the phenomenon of pseudo-thinking, pseudo-feeling, and pseudo-willing,
which Fromm discussed in <The Escape from Freedom>.
In essence this involves grounding one's thought and emotion in the
values and experience of others, rather than in one's own values
and experience. There is a risk that instead of teaching a person how
to be himself,
reading fiction and drama may teach him how to be somebody
else. Clearly what the person brings to the reading is important.
Moreover, if the critic instructs his audience in <what> to see in
a work, he is contributing to this pseudo-thinking; if he instructs
them in <how> to evaluate a work, he is helping them to achieve their
own identity. The second timely part of this sketch of literature
and the search for identity has to do with the difference between
good and enduring literary works and the ephemeral mass culture products
of today. In the range and variety of characters who, in their
literary lives, get along all right with life styles one never imagined
possible, there is an implicit lesson in differentiation. The reader,
observing this process, might ask "why not be different"? and
find in the answer a license to be a variant of the human species.
The observer of television or other products for a mass audience has
only a permit to be, like the models he sees, even more like everybody
else. And this, I think, holds for values as well as life styles.
One would need to test this proposition carefully; after all, the large
(and probably unreliable) <Reader's Digest> literature on the
"most unforgettable character I ever met" deals with village grocers,
country doctors, favorite if illiterate aunts, and so forth. Scientists
often turn out to be idiosyncratic, too. But still, the proposition
is worth examination. It is possible that the study
of literature affects the conscience, the morality, the sensitivity to
some code of "right" and "wrong". I do not know that this is
true; both Flu^gel and Ranyard West deal with the development
and nature of conscience, as do such theologians as Niebuhr and Buber.
It forms the core of many, perhaps most, problems of psychotherapy.
I am not aware of great attention by any of these authors or by the
psychotherapeutic profession to the role of literary study in the development
of conscience- most of their attention is to a pre-literate
period of life, or, for the theologians of course, to the influence
of religion. Still, it would be surprising if what one reads did
not contribute to one's ideas of right and wrong; certainly the
awakened alarm over the comic books and the continuous concern over prurient
literature indicate some peripheral aspects of this influence.
Probably the most important thing to focus on is not the development
of conscience, which may well be almost beyond the reach of literature,
but the contents of conscience, the code which is imparted to the developed
or immature conscience available. This is in large part a code
of behavior and a glossary of values: what is it that people do and
should do and how one should regard it. In a small way this is illustrated
by the nineteenth-century novelist who argued for the powerful
influence of literature as a teacher of society and who illustrated
this with the way a girl learned to meet her lover, how to behave, how
to think about this new experience, how to exercise restraint.

Literature may be said to give people a sense of purpose, dedication,

mission, significance. This, no doubt, is part of what Gilbert Seldes
implies when he says of the arts, "They give form and meaning
to life which might otherwise seem shapeless and without sense". Men
seem almost universally to want a sense of function, that is, a feeling
that their existence makes a difference to someone, living or unborn,
close and immediate or generalized. Feeling useless seems generally
to be an unpleasant sensation. A need so deeply planted, asking
for direction, so to speak, is likely to be gratified by the vivid examples
and heroic proportions of literature. The terms "renewal"
and "refreshed", which often come up in aesthetic discussion, seem
partly to derive their import from the "renewal" of purpose and
a "refreshed" sense of significance a person may receive from poetry,
drama, and fiction. The notion of "inspiration" is somehow cognate
to this feeling. How literature does this, or for whom, is certainly
not clear, but the content, form, and language of the "message",
as well as the source, would all play differentiated parts in giving
and molding a sense of purpose. One of the most salient features
of literary value has been deemed to be its influence upon and
organization of emotion. Let us differentiate a few of these ideas. The
Aristotelian notion of catharsis, the purging of emotion, is a persistent
and viable one. The idea here is one of <discharge> but this
must stand in opposition to a second view, Plato's notion of the
<arousal> of emotion. A third idea is that artistic literature serves
to <reduce emotional conflicts,> giving a sense of serenity and
calm to individuals. This is given some expression in Beardsley's
notion of harmony and the resolution of indecision. A fourth view is
the transformation of emotion, as in Housman's fine phrase on the
arts: they "transform and beautify our inner nature". It is possible
that the idea of <enrichment> of emotion is a fifth idea. F&S&C&
Northrop, in his discussion of the "Functions and Future
of Poetry", suggests this: "One of the things which makes
our lives drab and empty and which leaves us, at the end of the day,
fatigued and deflated spiritually is the pressure of the taxing, practical,
utilitarian concern of common-sense objects. If art is to release
us from these postulated things [things we must think symbolically
about] and bring us back to the ineffable beauty and richness of the
aesthetic component of reality in its immediacy, it must sever its connection
with these common sense entities". I take the central meaning
here to be the contrast between the drab empty quality of life without
literature and a life enriched by it. Richards' view of the aesthetic
experience might constitute a sixth variety: for him it constitutes,
in part, the <organization of impulses>. A sketch of
the emotional value of the study of literature would have to take account
of all of these. But there is one in particular which, it seems
to me, deserves special attention. In the wide range of experiences
common to our earth-bound race none is more difficult to manage, more
troublesome, and more enduring in its effects than the control of love
and hate. The study of literature contributes to this control in a curious
way. William Wimsatt and Cleanth Brooks, it seems to me, have
a penetrating insight into the way in which this control is effected:
"For if we say poetry is to talk of beauty and love (and yet not
aim at exciting erotic emotion or even an emotion of Platonic esteem)
and if it is to talk of anger and murder (and yet not aim at arousing
anger and indignation)- then it may be that the poetic way of dealing
with these emotions will not be any kind of intensification, compounding,
or magnification, or any direct assault upon the affections
at all. Something indirect, mixed, reconciling, tensional might well
be the strategem, the devious technique by which a poet indulged in all
kinds of talk about love and anger and even in something like "expressions"
of these emotions, without aiming at their incitement or
even uttering anything that essentially involves their incitement".
The rehearsal through literature of emotional life under controlled conditions
may be a most valuable human experience. Here I do not mean
catharsis, the discharge of emotion. I mean something more like Freud's
concept of the utility of "play" to a small child: he plays
"house" or "doctor" or "fireman" as a way of mastering
slightly frightening experiences, reliving them imaginatively until they
are under control. There is a second feature of the influences
of literature, good literature, on emotional life which may have
some special value for our time. In B& M& Spinley's portrayal
of the underprivileged and undereducated youth of London, a salient
finding was the inability to postpone gratification, a need to satisfy
impulses immediately without the pleasure of anticipation or of savoring
the experience. Perhaps it is only an analogy, but one of the most
obvious differences between cheap fiction and fiction of an enduring
quality is the development of a theme or story with leisure and anticipation.
Anyone who has watched children develop a taste for literature
will understand what I mean. It is at least possible that the capacity
to postpone gratification is developed as well as expressed in
a continuous and guided exposure to great literature. In any
inquiry into the way in which great literature affects the emotions, particularly
with respect to the sense of harmony, or relief of tension,
or sense of "a transformed inner nature" which may occur, a most
careful exploration of the particular feature of the experience which
produces the effect would be required. In the calm which follows the
reading of a poem, for example, is the effect produced by the enforced
quiet, by the musical quality of words and rhythm, by the sentiments
or sense of the poem, by the associations with earlier readings, if it
is familiar, by the boost to the self-esteem for the semi-literate,
by
the diversion of attention, by the sense of security in a legitimized
withdrawal, by a kind license for some variety of fantasy life regarded
as forbidden, or by half-conscious ideas about the magical power of
words? These are, if the research is done with subtlety and skill,
researchable topics, but the research is missing. One of the
most frequent views of the value of literature is the education of sensibility
that it is thought to provide. Sensibility is a vague word,
covering an area of meaning rather than any precise talent, quality,
or skill. Among other things it means perception, discrimination, sensitivity
to subtle differences. Both the extent to which this is true
and the limits of the field of perceptual skill involved should be acknowledged.
Its truth is illustrated by the skill, sensitivity, and general
expertise of the English professor with whom one attends the theatre.
The limits are suggested by an imaginary experiment: contrast
the perceptual skill of English professors with that of their colleagues
in discriminating among motor cars, political candidates, or female
beauty. Along these lines, the particular point that sensitivity
in literature leads to sensitivity in human relations would require more
proof than I have seen. In a symposium and general exploration of
the field of <Person Perception and Interpersonal Behavior> the
discussion does not touch upon this aspect of the subject, with one
possible exception; Solomon Asch shows the transcultural stability
of metaphors based on sensation (hot, sweet, bitter, etc&) dealing
with personal qualities of human beings and events. But to go from here
to the belief that those more sensitive to metaphor and language will
also be more sensitive to personal differences is too great an inferential
leap. I would say, too, that the study of literature
tends to give a person what I shall call <depth>. I use this term
to mean three things: a search for the human significance of an event
or state of affairs, a tendency to look at wholes rather than parts,
and a tendency to respond to these events and wholes with feeling. It
is the obverse of triviality, shallowness, emotional anaesthesia. I
think these attributes cluster, but I have no evidence. In fact, I
can only say this seems to me to follow from a wide, continuous, and
properly guided exposure to literary art.

THE late R& G& Collingwood, a philosopher whose work

has proved helpful to many students of literature, once wrote "We
are all, though many of us are snobbish enough to wish to deny it, in
far closer sympathy with the art of the music-hall and picture-palace
than with Chaucer and Cimabue, or even Shakespeare and Titian. By
an effort of historical sympathy we can cast our minds back into the
art of a remote past or an alien present, and enjoy the carvings of
cavemen and Japanese colour-prints; but the possibility of this
effort
is bound up with that development of historical thought which is the
greatest achievement of our civilization in the last two centuries,
and it is utterly impossible to people in whom this development has not
taken place. The natural and primary aesthetic attitude is to enjoy
contemporary art, to despise and dislike the art of the recent past,
and wholly to ignore everything else". One might argue that
the ultimate purpose of literary scholarship is to correct this spontaneous
provincialism that is likely to obscure the horizons of the general
public, of the newspaper critic, and of the creative artist himself.
There results a study of literature freed from the tyranny of the
contemporary. Such study may take many forms. The study of ideas in
literature is one of these. Of course, it goes without saying that no
student of ideas can justifiably ignore the contemporary scene. He will
frequently return to it. The continuities, contrasts, and similarities
discernible when past and present are surveyed together are inexhaustible
and the one is often understood through the other. When
we assert the value of such study, we find ourselves committed to
an important assumption. Most students of literature, whether they call
themselves scholars or critics, are ready to argue that it is possible
to understand literary works as well as to enjoy them. Many will
add that we may find our enjoyment heightened by our understanding. This
understanding, of course, may in its turn take many forms and some
of these- especially those most interesting to the student of comparative
literature- are essentially historical. But the historian of
literature need not confine his attention to biography or to stylistic
questions of form, "texture", or technique. He may also consider
ideas. It is true that this distinction between style and idea often
approaches the arbitrary since in the end we must admit that style and
content frequently influence or interpenetrate one another and sometimes
appear as expressions of the same insight. But, in general, we
may argue that the student can direct the primary emphasis of his attention
toward one or the other. At this point a working definition
of <idea> is in order, although our first definition will have to
be qualified somewhat as we proceed. The term <idea> refers to our
more reflective or thoughtful consciousness as opposed to the immediacies
of sensuous or emotional experience. It is through such reflection
that literature approaches philosophy. An idea, let us say, may be
roughtly defined as a theme or topic with which our reflection may
be concerned. In this essay, we are,
along with most historians, interested
in the more general or more inclusive ideas, that are so to speak
"writ large" in history of literature where they recur continually.
Outstanding among these is the idea of human nature itself, including
the many definitions that have been advanced over the centuries;
also secondary notions such as the perfectibility of man, the depravity
of man, and the dignity of man. One might, indeed, argue that the
history of ideas, in so far as it includes the literatures, must center
on characterizations of human nature and that the great periods of
literary achievement may be distinguished from one another by reference
to the images of human nature that they succeed in fashioning.

We need not, to be sure, expect to find such ideas in every piece of

literature. An idea, of the sort that we have in mind, although of
necessity readily available to imagination, is more general in connotation
than most poetic or literary images, especially those appearing in
lyric poems that seek to capture a moment of personal experience. Thus
Burns's "<My love is like a red, red rose>" and Hopkins'
"<The thunder-purple sea-beach, plumed purple of
thunder>" although clearly intelligible in content, hardly present
ideas of the sort with which we are here concerned. On the other hand,
Arnold's "<The unplumbed, salt, estranging sea>",
taken in its context, certainly does so. Understanding a work
of art involves recognition of the ideas that it reflects or embodies.
Thus the student of literature may sometimes find it helpful to classify
a poem or an essay as being in idea or in ideal content or subject
matter typical or atypical of its period. Again, he may discover embodied
within its texture a theme or idea that has been presented elsewhere
and at other times in various ways. Our understanding will very
probably require both these commentaries. Very likely it will also include
a recognition that the work we are reading reflects or "belongs
to" some way of thought labelled as a "school" or an "-~ism",
i&e& a complex or "syndrome" of ideas occurring together
with sufficient prominence to warrant identification. Thus ideas like
"grace", "salvation", and "providence" cluster together
in traditional Christianity. Usually the work studied offers us a special
or even an individualized rendering or treatment of the ideas in
question, so that the student finds it necessary to distinguish carefully
between the several expressions of an "-~ism" or mode of thought.
Accordingly we may speak of the Platonism peculiar to Shelley's
poems or the type of Stoicism present in Henley's "Invictus",
and we may find that describing such Platonism or such Stoicism
and contrasting each with other expressions of the same attitude or
mode of thought is a difficult and challenging enterprise. After all,
Shelley is no "orthodox" or Hellenic Platonist, and even his
"romantic" Platonism can be distinguished from that of his contemporaries.
Again, Henley's attitude of defiance which colors his ideal
of self-mastery is far from characteristic of a Stoic thinker like
Marcus Aurelius, whose gentle acquiescence is almost Christian,
comparable to the patience expressed in Milton's sonnet on his own
blindness. In recent years, we have come increasingly to recognize
that ideas have a history and that not the least important chapters
of this history have to do with thematic or conceptual aspects of literature
and the arts, although these aspects should be studied in conjunction
with the history of philosophy, of religion, and of the sciences.
When these fields are surveyed together, important patterns of
relationship emerge indicating a vast community of reciprocal influence,
a continuity of thought and expression including many traditions, primarily
literary, religious, and philosophical, but frequently including
contact with the fine arts and even, to some extent, with science.

Here we may observe that at least one modern philosophy of history

is built on the assumption that ideas are the primary objectives
of the historian's research. Let us quote once more from R& G&
Collingwood: "History is properly concerned with the actions
of human beings **h Regarded from the outside, an action is an event
or series of events occurring in the physical world; regarded from the
inside, it is the carrying into action of a certain thought **h The
historian's business is to penetrate to the inside of the actions
with which he is dealing and reconstruct or rather rethink the thoughts
which constituted them. It is a characteristic of thoughts that **h
in re-thinking them we come, <ipso facto>, to understand why they were
thought". Such an understanding, although it must seek to be sympathetic,
is not a matter of intuition. "History has this in common
with every other science: that the historian is not allowed to claim
any single piece of knowledge, except where he can justify his claim
by exhibiting to himself in the first place, and secondly to any one
else who is both able and willing to follow his demonstration, the grounds
upon which it is based. This is what was meant, above, by describing
history as inferential. The knowledge in virtue of which a man
is an historian is a knowledge of what the evidence at his disposal proves
about certain events". It is obvious that the historian who seeks
to recapture the ideas that have motivated human behavior throughout
a given period will find the art and literature of that age one of
his central and major concerns, by no means a mere supplement or adjunct
of significant historical research. The student of ideas and
their place in history will always be concerned with the patterns of
transition, which are at the same time patterns of transformation, whereby
ideas pass from one area of activity to another. Let us survey
for a moment the development of modern thought- turning our attention
from the Reformation toward the revolutionary and romantic movements
that follow and dwelling finally on more recent decades. We may thus
trace the notion of individual autonomy from its manifestation in religious
practice and theological reflection through practical politics
and political theory into literature and the arts. Finally we may note
that the idea appears in educational theory where its influence is
at present widespread. No one will deny that such broad developments
and transitions are of great intrinsic interest and the study of ideas
in literature would be woefully incomplete without frequent reference
to them. Still, we must remember that we cannot construct and justify
generalizations of this sort unless we are ready to consider many special
instances of influence moving between such areas as theology, philosophy,
political thought, and literature. The actual moments of contact
are vitally important. These moments are historical events in the
lives of individual authors with which the student of comparative literature
must be frequently concerned. Perhaps the most powerful
and most frequently recurring literary influence on the Western world
has been that of the Old and New Testament. Certainly one of
the most important comments that can be made upon the spiritual and cultural
life of any period of Western civilization during the past sixteen
or seventeen centuries has to do with the way in which its leaders
have read and interpreted the Bible. This reading and the comments
that it evoked constitute the influence. A contrast of the scripture
reading of, let us say, St& Augustine, John Bunyan, and Thomas
Jefferson, all three of whom found in such study a real source of enlightenment,
can tell us a great deal about these three men and the age
that each represented and helped bring to conscious expression. In
much the same way, we recognize the importance of Shakespeare's familarity
with Plutarch and Montaigne, of Shelley's study of Plato's
dialogues, and of Coleridge's enthusiastic plundering of the writings
of many philosophers and theologians from Plato to Schelling
and William Godwin, through which so many abstract ideas were brought
to the attention of English men of letters. We may also recognize
cases in which the poets have influenced the philosophers and
even indirectly the scientists. English philosopher Samuel Alexander's
debt to Wordsworth and Meredith is a recent interesting example,
as also A& N& Whitehead's understanding of the English romantics,
chiefly Shelley and Wordsworth. Hegel's profound admiration
for the insights of the Greek tragedians indicates a broad channel
of classical influence upon nineteenth-century philosophy. Again the
student of evolutionary biology will find a fascinating, if to our minds
grotesque, anticipation of the theory of chance variations and the
natural elimination of the unfit in Lucretius, who in turn seems to
have borrowed the concept from the philosopher Empedocles. Here
an important caveat is in order. We must avoid the notion, suggested
to some people by examples such as those just mentioned, that ideas
are "units" in some way comparable to coins or counters that can
be passed intact from one group of people to another or even, for that
matter, from one individual to another.

"Suppose you take Mr& Hearst's morning <American> at

$10,000 a year", Brisbane proposed. "You could come down to the
office once a day, look over a few exchanges, dictate an editorial,
and then have the remainder of your time for your more serious literary
labors. If within one year you can make a success out of the <American>,
you can practically name your own salary thereafter. Of course,
if you don't make the <American> a success, Hearst will have
no further use for you". The blue-eyed Watson decided that
he would dislike living in New York, and the deal fell through. Hearst's
luck was even poorer when he had a chat with Franklin K&
Lane, a prominent California journalist and reform politician, whom
he asked for his support. Lane was still burning because he had narrowly
missed election as governor of California in 1902 and laid his defeat
to the antagonism of Hearst's San Francisco <Examiner>. Hearst
disclaimed blame for this, but the conversation, according to Lane,
ended on a tart note. "Mr& Lane", Hearst said, "if
you ever wish anything that I can do, all you will have to do will
be to send me a telegram asking, and it will be done". "Mr&
Hearst", Lane replied as he left, "if you ever get a telegram
from me asking you to do anything, you can put the telegram down
as a forgery". Hearst took a brief respite to hurry home to
New York to become a father. On April 10, 1904, his first child was
born, a son named George after the late Senator. Hearst saw his wife
and child, sent a joyful message to his mother in California, and
soon returned to Washington, where on April 22, for the first time,
he opened his mouth in Congress. This was not before the House
but before the Judiciary Committee, where he asked for action on
one of his pet bills, that calling for an investigation of the coal-railroad
monopoly. Attorney Shearn had worked on this for two years and
had succeeded in getting a report supporting his stand from the United
States Attorney for the Southern District of New York. Hearst
had spent more than $60,000 of his own money in the probe, but still
Attorney General Knox was quiescent. Six of the railroads
carrying coal to tidewater from the Pennsylvania fields, Hearst said,
not only had illegal agreements with coal operators but owned outright
at least eleven mines. They had watered their stock at immense
profit, then had raised the price of coal fifty cents a ton, netting themselves
another $20,000,000 in annual profit. "The Attorney
General has been brooding over that evidence like an old hen on a
doorknob for eighteen months", Hearst said. "He has not acted in
any way, and won't let anyone take it away from him **h What I want
is to have this evidence come before Congress and if the Attorney
General does not report it, as I am very sure he won't, as he has
refused to do anything of the kind, I then wish that a committee of
seven Representatives be appointed with power to take the evidence
**h".

The Congressman tried hard, but failed. This was the very
sort of legislation that Roosevelt himself had in mind. There can
be little doubt that there was a conspiracy in Washington, overt or
implied, to block anything Hearst wanted, even if it was something good.
Hatred tied his hands in Congress. Roosevelt and others considered
him partly responsible for the murder of McKinley. They were repelled
by his noisy newspapers, his personal publicity, his presumptuous
campaign for the Presidential nomination, and by the swelling cloud
of rumor about his moral lapses. He might get votes from his constituents,
but he would never get a helping hand in Congress. He was the
House pariah. Even the regular Democrats disowned him. Inherently
incapable of cooperating with others, he ran his own show regardless
of how many party-line Democratic toes he stepped on. He was a political
maverick, a reformer with his own program, determined to bulldoze
it through or to blazon the infamy of those who balked him. He showed
little interest in measures put forward by the regular Democrats.
He sought to run Congress as he ran his New York <American> or
<Journal>, a scheme veteran legislators resisted. For a freshman Congressman
to read political lessons to graybeard Democrats was poor
policy for one who needed to make friends. He soon quarreled with all
the party leaders in the House, and came to be regarded with detestation
by regular Democrats as a professional radical leading a small
pack of obedient terriers whose constant snapping was demoralizing to
party discipline. To old-line Democrats, the Hearst Presidential
boom, now in full cry, was the joke of the new century. Yet no
leader had come to the fore who seemed likely to give the puissant T&
R& a semblance of a race. There was talk of dragging old ex-President
Cleveland out of retirement for another try. Some preferred
Judge Alton B& Parker of New York. There was a host of dark
horses. The sneers at Hearst changed to concern when it was seen that
he had strong support in many parts of the country. Platoons of Hearst
agents were traveling from state to state in a surprisingly successful
search for delegates at the coming convention, and there were charges
that money was doing a large part of the persuading. Just when
it was needed for the campaign, Hearst Paper No& 8, the Boston <American>,
began publication. A Bay State supporter said, "Mr&
Hearst's fight has been helped along greatly by the starting of
his paper in Boston". His candidacy affected his journalism somewhat.
He ordered his editors to tone down on sensationalism and to refrain
from using such words as "seduction", "rape", "abortion",
"criminal assault" and "born out of wedlock". In
a story headed, "HEARST OFFERS CASH", the Republican New York
<Tribune> spread the money rumor, quoting an unnamed "Hearst
supporter" as saying: "The argument that is cutting most
ice is that Hearst is the only candidate who is fighting the trusts
fearlessly and who would use all the powers of government to disrupt
them if he were elected. The Hearst men say that if Hearst is nominated,
he and his immediate friends will contribute to the Democratic
National Committee the sum of $1,500,000. This, it is urged, would
relieve the national committee from the necessity of appealing to the
trust magnates. The alternative to this is that if a conservative candidate
is nominated the national committee will have to appeal to the
trusts for their campaign funds, and in doing this will incur obligations
which would make a Democratic victory absolutely fruitless **h.
the average Democratic politician, especially in the country districts,
is hungry for the spoils of office. It has been a long time since
he has seen any campaign money, and when the proposition is laid down
to him as the friends of Mr& Hearst are laying it down these days
he is quite likely to get aboard the Hearst bandwagon". If
anything, the conservative Democrats were more opposed to Hearst than
the Republicans. In his own state of New York, the two Democratic
bellwethers, State Leader Hill and Tammany Boss Murphy, were
saying nothing openly against Hearst but industriously boosting their
own favorites, Murphy being for Cleveland and Hill for Parker. They
had lost twice with the radical Bryan, and were having no part of
Hearst, whom they considered more radical than Bryan. But his increasing
strength in the West looked menacing. It caused Henry Watterson
to sound a blast in his Louisville <Courier-Journal:>

"**h Does any sane Democrat believe that Mr& Hearst, a person
unknown even to his constituency and his colleagues, without a word
or
act in the public life of his country, past or present, that can be
shown to be his to commend him, could by any possibility be elected President
of the United States? But there is a Hearst
barrel **h"

More splenetic was Senator Edward Carmack of Tennessee,

a Parker man. "**h the nomination of Hearst would compass the ruin
of the party", Carmack said. "It would be a disgrace, and, as I
have already said to the people of Tennessee, if Hearst is nominated,
we may as well pen a dispatch, and send it back from the field of
battle: 'All is lost, including our honor'". A lone
pro-Hearst voice from New York City was that of William Devery,
who had been expelled as a Tammany leader but still claimed strong influence
in his own district. "I understand [Hearst] is a candidate
for Presidential honors", Devery said without cracking a smile.
"There's nothing like buildin' from the bottom up. If he's
going to the St& Louis convention as a delegate we ought to know it.
He's got a lot of friends, and he ought to come along and let us
know if he wants our help". Hearst won the Iowa state convention,
but ran into a bitter battle in Indiana before losing to Parker,
drawing an angry statement from Indiana's John W& Kern:

"We are menaced for the first time in the history of the Republic
by the open and unblushing effort of a multi-millionaire to purchase
the Presidential nomination. Our state has been overrun with a
gang of paid agents and retainers **h As for the paid Hessians from
other states, we are here to instruct the Indiana Democracy in their
duty, I have nothing but contempt **h The Hearst dollar mark is all
over them **h"
The talk of a Hearst "barrel" was increasing.
Another Indiana observer later commented, "Perhaps we shall
never know how much was spent [by Hearst], but if as much money
was expended elsewhere as in Indiana a liberal fortune was squandered".

In his fight for the Illinois and Indiana delegations,

Hearst made several trips to Chicago to confer with Andrew Lawrence,
the former San Francisco <Examiner> man who was now his Chicago
kingpin, and once to meet with Bryan. On one visit he stopped at
the office of the <American>, where he was known surreptitiously as
"the Great White Chief", and for the first time met his managing
editor, fat Moses Koenigsberg. Koenigsberg never did learn what
Hearst wanted, for the latter shook hands and moved toward the door.

"Never mind, thank you", he said. "I must hurry to catch

my train". Another editor pointed despairingly at a bundle
of letters that had accumulated for him, saying, "But Mr& Hearst,
what shall I do with this correspondence"? "I'll
show you", Hearst replied, grinning. He took the stack of mail and
tossed it into the waste basket. "Don't bother. Every letter answers
itself in a couple of weeks". #/2,. THE HEARST "BARREL"#

HEARST hopped into a private railroad car with Max Ihmsen

and made an arduous personal canvass for delegates in the western and
southern states, always wearing a frock coat, listening intently to local
politicians, and generally making a good impression. He laughed
at a story that he planned to bolt the party if he was not nominated.

"I should, of course", he said, "like any other man, be

honored and gratified should the Democrats see fit to nominate me. But
I do not have to be bribed by office to be a Democrat. I have supported
the Democratic party in the last five campaigns. I supported
Cleveland three times and Bryan twice. I intend to support the nominee
of the party at St& Louis, whoever he may be". The
Hearst press followed the Chief's progress at the various state conventions
with its usual admiring attention, stressing the "enthusiasm"
and "loyalty" he inspired. This was historic in its way, for
it marked the first time an American Presidential aspirant had advertised
his own virtues in his own string of newspapers spanning the land.

Yet his editors did not abandon their sense of story value.
When Nan Patterson, a stunning and money-minded chorus girl who
had appeared in a <Florodora> road show, rode down Broadway in a hansom
cab with her married lover, Frank Young, she stopped the cab to
disclose that Young had been shot dead, tearfully insisting that he
had shot himself although experts said he could not have done so.
Trevelyan's Liberalism was above all a liberalism of the spirit, a
deep feeling of communion with men fighting for country and for liberty.
His passion and enthusiasm convey the courage and high adventure
of Garibaldi's exploits and give the reader a unique sense of participation
in the events described. The three volumes brought to
the fore a characteristic of Trevelyan's prose which remained conspicuous
through his later works- a genius for describing military action
with clarity and with authority. The confused rambling of guerrilla
warfare, such as most of Garibaldi's campaigns were, was brought
to life by Trevelyan's pen in some of the best passages in the books.
His personal familiarity with the scenes of action undoubtedly contributed
much to the final result, but familiarity alone would not have
been enough without other qualities. Military knowledge, love of
detail, and a sure feeling for the portrayal of action were the added
ingredients. But the Garibaldi volumes were more than a romantic
story. Trevelyan contributed considerable new knowledge of the issues
connected with his subject. The outstanding example was in <Garibaldi
and the Thousand>, where he made use of unpublished papers of
Lord John Russell and English consular materials to reveal the motives
which led the British government to permit Garibaldi to cross
the Straits of Messina. In looking back over the volumes, it
is possible to find errors of interpretation, some of which were not
so evident at the time of writing. Thus Trevelyan repeats the story
which pictured Victor Emmanuel as refusing to abandon the famous <Statuto>
at the insistence of General Radetzky. Later research has
shown this part of the legend of the <Re Galantuomo> to be false.
Trevelyan accepts Italian nationalism with little analysis, he is
unduly critical of papal and French policy, and he is more than generous
in assessing British policy. But fifty years later the trilogy still
maintains a firm place in the list of standard works on the unification
of Italy, a position cautiously prophesied by the reviewers at
the time of publication. Trevelyan's <Manin and the Venetian
revolution of 1848>, his last major volume on an Italian theme,
was written in a minor key. Published in 1923, it did not gain the popular
acclaim of the Garibaldi volumes, probably because Trevelyan
felt less at home with Manin, the bourgeois lawyer, than with Garibaldi,
the filibuster. The complexities of Venetian politics eluded him,
but the story of the revolution itself is told in restrained measures,
with no superfluous passages and only an occasional overemphasis of
the part played by its leading figure. If it is not one of his best
books, it can only be considered unsatisfactory when compared with his
own <Garibaldi>. Already Trevelyan had begun to parallel
his nineteenth-century Italian studies with several works on English
figures of the same period. First <The life of John Bright> appeared
and seven years later <Lord Grey of the Reform Bill>. Of
the two, the life of Bright is incomparably the better biography. Trevelyan
centers too exclusively on Bright, is insufficiently appreciative
of the views of Bright's opponents and critics, and makes light
of the genuine difficulties faced by Peel. Yet he is right when he
claims in his autobiography that he drew the real features of the man,
his tender and selfless motives and his rugged fearless strength. In
the story of Bright and the Corn Law agitation, the Crimean War,
the American Civil War, and the franchise struggle Trevelyan reflects
something of the moral power which enabled this independent man
to exercise so immense an influence over his fellow countrymen for so
long. Because Bright's speeches were so much a part of him, there
are long and numerous quotations, which, far from making the biography
diffuse, help to give us the feel of the man. Associated in a sense
with the Manchester School through his mother's family, Trevelyan
conveys in this biography something of its moral conviction and drive.
Nineteenth-century virtues, however, seem somehow to have gone out
of fashion and the Bright book has never been particularly popular.

The biography of Lord Grey is strictly speaking not a biography

at all. It is a Whig history of the "Tory reaction" which preceded
the Reform Bill of 1832, and it uses the figure of Grey to
give some unity to the narrative. The volume is a piece of passionate
special pleading, written with the heat- and often with the wisdom,
it must be said- of a Liberal damning the shortsightedness of politicians
from 1782 to 1832. Characteristically, Trevelyan enjoyed writing
the work. The theme of glorious summer coming after a long winter
of discontent and repression was, he has told us, congenial to his artistic
sense. And Grey's Northumberland background was close to
Trevelyan's own. But his concentration on personalities and his categorical
assessment of their actions fail to convey the political complexities
of a long generation harassed by world-wide war and confronted
with the problem of adjustment to an unprecedented industrial and social
transformation. Some historians have found his point of view not
to their taste, others have complained that he makes the Tory tradition
appear "contemptible rather than intelligible", while a sympathetic
critic has remarked that the "intricate interplay of social dynamics
and political activity of which, at times, politicians are the
ignorant marionettes is not a field for the exercise of his talents".
The Liberal-Radical heritage which informs all of Trevelyan's
interpretations of history here seems clearly to have distorted the issues
and oversimplified the period. For once his touch deserted him.

Research in the period of Grey and Bright led naturally to

a more ambitious work. <Britain in the nineteenth century> is a textbook
designed "to give the sense of continuous growth, to show how
economic led to social, and social to political change, how the political
events reacted on the economic and social, and how new thoughts and
new ideals accompanied or directed the whole complicated process".
The plan is admirably fulfilled for the period up to 1832. More temperately
than in the study of Grey and despite his Liberal bias, Trevelyan
vividly sketches the England of pre-French Revolution days,
portrays the stresses and strains of the revolutionary period in rich
colors, and brings developments leading to the Reform Bill into sharp
and clear focus. His technique is genuinely masterful. By what one
reader called a "series of dissolving views", he merges one period
into another and gives a sense of continuous growth. But after
1832, the narrative tends to lose its balanced, many-sided quality
and to become a medley of topics, often unconnected by any single thread.
Economic analysis was never Trevelyan's strong point and the
England of the industrial transformation cries out for economic analysis.
Yet after 1832, the interrelations of economic and social and political
affairs become blurred and the narrative becomes largely a conventional
political account. Finally, the period after 1870 receives
little attention and that quite superficial. Yet <Britain in the nineteenth
century> became the <vade mecum> of beginning students of
history, went through edition after edition, and continues to be reprinted
up to the very present. Its success is a tribute, above all, to
Trevelyan's brilliance as a literary stylist. In 1924 Trevelyan
traveled to the United States, where he delivered the Lowell
lectures at Harvard University. These lectures formed the nucleus of
a general survey of English development which took form afterward as
a <History of England>. In short order, the general history became
his most popular work and has remained, aside from his later <Social
history>, the work most widely favored by the public. The
<History of England> has often been compared with Green's <Short
history>. Like Green, Trevelyan aimed to write a history not
of "English kings or English conquests", but of the English people.
The result was fortunate. The <History> takes too much for
granted to serve as a text for other than English schoolboys, and like
<Britain in the nineteenth century> it deteriorates badly as it goes
beyond 1870. Trevelyan's excursions into contemporary history were
rarely happy ones. But as a stimulating, provocative interpretation
of the broad sweep of English development it is incomparable. Living
pictures of the early boroughs, country life in Tudor and Stuart
times, the impact of the industrial revolution compete with sensitive
surveys of language and literature, the common law, parliamentary development.
The strength of the <History> is also its weakness. Trevelyan
is militantly sure of the superiority of English institutions and
character over those of other peoples. His
nationalism was not a new characteristic, but its self-consciousness,
even its self-satisfaction, is more obvious in a book that stretches
over the long reach of English history. And yet the elements which
capture his liberal and humanistic imagination are those which make the
English story worth telling and worth remembering. Tolerance and
compromise, social justice and civil liberty, are today too often in short
supply for one to be overly critical of Trevelyan's emphasis on
their central place in the English tradition. Like most major works
of synthesis, the <History of England> is informed by the positive
views of a first-class mind, and this is surely a major work.

Four years after the publication of the <History of England>, the

first volume of Trevelyan's Queen Anne trilogy appeared. By now
he had become Regius Professor of Modern History at Cambridge
and had been honored by the award of the Order of Merit. His academic
duties had little evident effect on his prolific pen. <Blenheim>
was followed in rapid succession by <Ramillies and the union with
Scotland> and by <The peace and the Protestant succession>, the
three forming together a detailed picture of <England under Queen Anne>.
Like his volume on Wycliffe, the work was accompanied by the
publication of a selected group of documents, in this case illustrative
of the history of Queen Anne's reign down to 1707. Trevelyan
was at least in part attracted to the period by an almost unconscious
desire to take up the story where Macaulay's <History of England>
had broken off. In addition, he believed in the "dramatic
unity and separateness of the period from 1702-14, lying between the Stuart
and Hanoverian eras with a special ethos of its own". He saw
the age as one in which Britain "settled her free constitution"
and attained her modern place in the world. To most observers, there
is little doubt that he placed an artificial strait jacket of unity upon
the years of Anne's reign which in reality existed only in the
pages
of his history. Of the three volumes, <Blenheim> is easily
the best. In four opening chapters reminiscent of Macaulay's famous
third chapter, Trevelyan surveys the state of England at the opening
of the eighteenth century. His delightful picture of society and
institutions is filled with warm detail that brings the period vividly
to life. He tends to underestimate- or perhaps to view charitably-
the brutality and the violence of the age, so that there is an idyllic
quality in these pages which hazes over some of its sharp reality.
Yet as an evocation of time past, there are few such successful
portraits
in English historical literature. Once the scene is set, Trevelyan
skilfully builds up the tense story until it reaches its climax
in the dramatic victory of Marlborough and Eugene of Savoy at Blenheim.
The account of the battle is, next to his descriptions of Garibaldi's
campaigns, Trevelyan's outstanding military narrative. The
scene is etched in sharp detail, the military problems brilliantly
explained, and the excitement and importance of the battle made evident.
If only for this modest masterpiece of military history, <Blenheim>
is likely to be read and reread long after newer interpretations
have perhaps altered our picture of the Marlborough wars. <Ramillies
and the union with Scotland> has fewer high spots than <Blenheim>
and much less of its dramatic unity. Yet in several chapters
on Scotland in the eighteenth century, Trevelyan copes persuasively
with the tangled confusion of Scottish politics against a vivid background
of Scottish religion, customs, and traditions.

I stood on a table, surrounded by hundreds of expectant young

faces. Questions came to me from all sides about my world citizenship
activities. After making a short statement about human rights, and the
freedom to travel, I told them I would be going to the Kehl bridge
the next morning in order to cross the Rhine into Germany.
"May we come with you"? called out a dozen young voices.

"Well, I might not get that far", I told them, "as actually
I have no papers to enter Germany and, as a matter of fact, no permit
to return to France once I leave". That was all they needed.
They would champion me. We would all meet at ten o'clock at
the Kehl bridge, five miles from Strasbourg, and march triumphantly
across into Germany. There was only one hitch: the small town
of Kehl, on the other side of the Rhine, was still under French
jurisdiction. The real Franco-German frontier was beyond the town's
limits. In fact, all persons were permitted to cross the Rhine into
Kehl, there being no sentry posted on the west side of the river.

That evening, as I learned later, the students, enjoying that

spontaneous immodesty in action known only to university students, surged
out onto the streets of Strasbourg, overturning empty streetcars,
marking up store fronts, and shouting imprudently, "Garry Davis
to power"! As I got off the trolley at Kehl bridge the
next morning, I was met by what looked like 5,000 students, some of whom
were carrying sticks apparently for the coming "battle" with the
police. Alarmed by this display of weapons, I looked toward the bridge
and there saw, stretched across the near side, a cordon of policemen,
their bicycles forming a roadblock before which stood several French
officers in uniform and a small waspish man in a brown derby.

"Listen please", I called to the students in French. "I

thank you most heartily for being here. This is full evidence of your
support for my principles. These principles, however, will not be served
by violence in any form. If they are right, they will prevail of
and by themselves. I ask you all to support me in this. If one finger
is raised against the authorities, all our moral power will vanish.
Your self-control in this respect will be the only witness to your
understanding of what I am saying. I have full confidence in you. Now,
let's go". I marched up to the waiting officials, the students
massed behind me. As usual, the press photographers were on hand.
The waspish man stopped me three paces from the bicycle barricade,
and asked me in French if I had papers to leave France. I replied
in the affirmative, taking out my recently acquired <titre d'identite
et de voyage>, on which was stamped a permission to leave Fran
e. He examined it carefully, handed it back and said, "<Eh bien>,
you may leave France". I took one step **h eastward.

One of the uniformed officers stepped in my way, demanding to know

whether I had permission to enter Germany. "No, I have
no permission to enter Germany", I told him. "<Alors>,
you may go no farther", he said imperiously. "Is this then
the frontier"? I asked him. "Yes". At this,
the students let out a yell, knowing full well the actual frontier was
beyond the town of Kehl. "But I have no permission to re-enter
France, and I have just left", I told him. "I must then
be standing on the line between France and Germany". The
waspish man stepped forward. "Line? Line? But there is no line
between France and Germany, that is, no actual <line> **h I mean
**h" "No line"? I asked. "But if there is no line,
how can there be two countries? You have just given me permission
to leave France, which I did. I have witnesses. And as you know,
I have no permission to re-enter France once out. Now I learn I
cannot
enter Germany. Obviously I'm stuck on the line between the two
countries". The students were laughing uproariously at this
piece of logic, and even the policemen were trying hard not to smile.

"<Mais non>", the Interior Ministry man coaxed, "you

may come back to Strasbourg, now, if you wish". "Oh? Then
will you give me a visa to re-enter France"? "Visa?
But there is no question of a visa. You are still in France".

"Ah, then please tell me where the frontier is because this

gentleman here"- I indicated the French occupation officer- "informs
me that Germany is just on the other side of him".
The Interior man looked uneasily at his French compatriot. From the
crowd were coming cries of "He's right"! "There must be
a line"! and "Bravo, Garry, continue"! Seeing their
hesitation, I said, "Well, until I have permission to enter Germany,
or a visa to re-enter France, I shall be obliged to remain here
**h on the line between two countries", whereupon I moved to the
side of the road, parked my backpack against the small guardhouse on
the sidewalk, sat down, took out my typewriter, and began typing the
above conversation. The reporters were questioning the Interior
man and the French officer, both of whom remained noncommittal as
to what action, if any, would be taken in my regard. Finally they
went
off to file their stories, after the photographers had taken pictures
of my latest vigil. The students crowded around asking questions, slapping
me on the back, and generally being friendly. "But what
will you do this evening, Mr& Davis"? asked a young mustached
Frenchman. "It will be very cold". "I don't know",
I told him, "except that I will be here". "I shall
see about getting you a tent", he said. "I have a small sports shop
in Strasbourg". That would be a great help, I told him,
thanking him for his thoughtfulness. A special guard was posted at
my end of the bridge to make sure I didn't cross, the ludicrousness
of the situation being revealed fully in that everyone else- men,
women, and children, dogs, cats, horses, cars, trucks, baby carriages-
could cross Kehl bridge into Kehl without surveillance. The
day passed eventfully enough, with a constant stream of visitors, some
stopping only to say hello, others getting into serious conversations,
such as one Andre Fuchs, a free-lance journalist from Strasbourg
who wrote an article for the <Nouvelle Alsatian> in highly sympathetic
terms. Some students from the University returned around six
with a large pot containing enough hot soup to last me a week. A volunteer
food brigade had been arranged, they told me, which would supply
me with the necessities as long as I remained at the bridge. A little
later, the sports shop man returned with a small pup tent. One of
the girl students, sitting by while I ate the thick soup, asked me if
I had a sleeping bag. When I informed her that I didn't, she said
she would borrow her brother's and bring it to me later that evening.

"You do not know me", she said in good English, "but

my mother was your governess in Philadelphia when you were a child".
Her name was Esther Peter. I was delighted to make that personal
contact in such trying and unusual circumstances. The Peter family
proved wonderful and helpful friends in the following days, Mrs&
Peter, little Esther, and Raoul, who generously lent me his sleeping
bag for my "Watch on the Rhine". Sighting a line from
the bridge to a small field directly to the side, I pitched the tent
that evening on the stateless "line", digging a small trench around
it as best I could with a toy spade donated by a neighborhood child.
The wind from the Rhine was damp and chill, necessitating a fire
for warmth. After scouring around a bit in the open area, I came across
what proved to be tar-soaked logs which crackled and burned brightly,
giving off vast rolls of smoke into the ashen sky. Each evening
the students appeared with the soup kettle and several <petits
pains>, Esther usually being among them. I had advised friends to
write me to "No Man's Land, Pont Kehl, Between Strasbourg and
Kehl, France-Germany". Sure enough, mail began trickling in,
delivered by a talkative, highly amused French postman who informed me
there had been quite a debate at the post office as to whether that
address would be recognized. On Christmas Eve, students brought
out two small Christmas trees which I placed on either side of the
tent. As the field on which my tent was pitched was a favorite natural
playground for the kids of the neighborhood, I had made many friends
among them, taking part in their after-school games and trying desperately
to translate Grimm's Fairy Tales into an understandable
French as we gathered around the fire in front of the tent. To my great
surprise and delight, when they saw the two trees they went rushing
off, returning shortly with decorations from their own trees.

It was a merry if somewhat soggy Christmas for me that year. ##

In the mail were invitations to speak at the universities of Cologne,

Heidelberg, and Baden-Baden. Twenty thousand world citizens at
Stuttgart had signed a petition inviting me to visit their town. When
Dr& Adenauer was approached by a world citizen delegation to find
out his disposition of my case, he gave them his personal approval
of my entry, saying that all men advocating peace should be welcomed into
Germany. The special guard, however, was still posted on Kehl bridge.

As it began raining at around eight o'clock on December

26th, I retired into my tent early, somewhat tired and discouraged,
my body reacting sluggishly
because of the continued exposure. No matter
how large the fire, I couldn't seem to shake off the chill that
day. "Oh, Mr& Davis, are you there"? a voice drifted
in to me above the patter of the rain shortly after I had fallen
into a fitful sleep. "Who is it"? "We're from
the Council of Europe, British delegation. May we have a word with
you"? "I'm sorry. I've had a trying day and I just
can't make it out again", I told them. I heard nothing
more. Later I learned that Sir Hugh Dalton had expressed a desire
to see me, hence their trip to "No Man's Land". On
the evening of December 27th, Esther noticed my pallid look and rasping
voice. She entreated me to see a doctor, and when I refused, brought
one out to see me. He advised immediate hospitalization. I wouldn't
hear of it because it meant giving up the "line", though I
realized I was in poor shape physically. Esther, mistaking my hesitation,
assured me that the hospital expense would be taken care of by
a leading merchant in Strasbourg whom she had already approached.
"No, it's not that", I told her. "You see, once I relinquish
the position I've already established here, I couldn't regain
it without sacrificing the logic of it". At that moment,
up walked a tall young man with glasses who announced himself as a
world citizen from Basel, Switzerland. Without preliminaries, Esther
asked him, "If you are a world citizen, will you take Garry Davis'
place in his tent while he goes to the hospital"? "But
of course, with pleasure", he replied. Esther looked at
me. I looked from her to him. "What is your name"? I
asked him. "Jean Babel". "Shake", I said. "You
have just enlisted for the 'Rhine Campaign'". Esther
jumped up, ran to him and gave him a little hug. "I am
so happy. Now come, Garry, we must go quickly. There is a police car
outside. Maybe they will take us". Such were the incongruities
of the situation that the very police assigned to check up on me
were drafted into driving me to the Strasbourg Hospital while World
Citizen Jean Babel waved adieu from the "Line"!
He remembered every detail of his pre-assault movements but nothing of
the final, desperate rush to come to grips with the enemy. When the
victory cheer went up this officer found himself still mounted, with
his
horse pressed broadside against Cleburne's log parapet in a tangled
group of infantrymen. His hat was gone, the tears were streaming
from his eyes. He never knew how he got there. Six climactic minutes
in an individual's life left no memory. Eight hundred and sixty-five
Rebels surrendered within their works and a thousand more were
captured or surrendered themselves that night and the next day. Eight
field guns were captured in position. Seven battle flags and fourteen
officers' swords were sent to Thomas' headquarters. It was
the only sizable assault upon infantry and artillery behind breastworks
successfully made by either side during the Atlanta campaign. The
Fourteenth Regiment of Ohio Volunteers lost one-third of its numbers
within a few minutes, among them being several men whose time of service
had expired but who had volunteered to advance with their regiment.
The Thirty-eighth Regiment of Ohio Volunteers, one of the regiments
in Thomas' First Division during Buell's command, suffered
its greatest loss of the war in this action. A popular belief
grew up after the war that the only time during the Civil War that
Thomas ever put his horse to a gallop was when he went to hurry up
Stanley for this assault. Sherman was responsible for the story when
he said in his memoirs that this was the only time he could recall
seeing Thomas ride so fast. While Thomas' injured back led him to
restrain his mount from its most violent gait he moved quickly enough
when he had to. It is not in the record, but he must have galloped his
horse at Peach Tree Creek when he brought up Ward's guns to save
Newton's crumbling line. While the final combat of the
campaign was being worked out at Jonesborough, Thomas, on Sherman's
instructions, ordered Slocum, now commanding the Twentieth Corps,
to make an effort to occupy Atlanta if he could do so without exposing
his bridgehead to a counterattack. The dispatch must have been sent
after sundown on September 1. Slocum made his reconnaissanace the
next morning, found the town empty, accepted the surrender of the mayor
and occupied the city a little before noon. On the morning
of September 2 the Fourth Corps and the Armies of the Tennessee and
the Ohio followed the line of Hardee's retreat. About noon they
came up with the enemy two miles from Lovejoy's Station and deployed.
The Fourth Corps assaulted and carried a small portion of the
enemy works but could not hold possession of the gain for want of cooperation
from the balance of the line. That night a note written in
Slocum's hand and dated from inside the captured city came to Sherman
stating that the Twentieth Corps was in possession of Atlanta.
Before making the news public Sherman sent an officer with the note
to Thomas. In a short time the officer returned and Thomas followed
on his heels. The cautious Thomas re-examined the note and then, making
up his mind that it was genuine, snapped his fingers, whistled and
almost danced in his exuberance. The next day Sherman issued
his orders ending the campaign and pulled his armies back to Atlanta.
The measure of combat efficiency in an indecisive campaign is a matter
of personal choice. Sherman laid great store by place captures.
Hood refused to notice anything except captured guns and colors. By
both standards Thomas had the right to be proud. Thomas thanked
his men for their tenacity of purpose, unmurmuring endurance, cheerful
obedience, brilliant heroism and high qualities in battle.
Sherman felt that his own part in the campaign was skillful and well
executed but that the slowness of a part of his army robbed him of the
larger fruits of victory. He supposed the military world would approve
of his accomplishment. Whatever the military world thought,
the political world approved it wholeheartedly. For some time, despondency
in some Northern quarters had been displayed in two ways- an
eagerness for peace and a dissatisfaction with Lincoln. Proposals
were in the air for a year's armistice. Lincoln was sure that he would
not be re-elected. In the midst of this gloom, at 10:05 P&M&
on September 2, Slocum's telegram to Stanton, "General Sherman
has taken Atlanta", shattered the talk of a negotiated peace
and boosted Lincoln into the White House. To the Republicans no
victory
could have been more complete. Official congratulations
showered upon Sherman and his army. Lincoln mentioned their distinguished
ability, courage and perseverance. He felt that this campaign would
be famous in the annals of war. Grant called it prompt, skillful
and brilliant. Halleck described it as the most brilliant of the war.

Actually the Atlanta campaign was a military failure. Next

best to destroying an army is to deprive it of its freedom of action.
Sherman had accomplished this much of his job and then inexplicably
nullified it by his thirty-mile retreat from Lovejoy's to Atlanta.
But, so far as its territorial objectives were concerned, the campaign
was successful. Within the narrow frame of military tactics, too,
the experts agree that the campaign was brilliant. In seventeen weeks
the military front was driven southward more than 100 miles. There
was a battle on an average of once every three weeks. The skirmishing
was almost constant. In the summary of the principal events of the campaign
compiled from the official records there are only ten days which
show no fighting. The casualties in the Army of the Cumberland were
22,807, while for all three armies they were 37,081. Men were killed
in their camps, at their meals and in their sleep. Rifle fire often
kept the opposing gunners from manning their pieces. Modern warfare
was born in this campaign- periscopes, camouflage, booby traps, land
mines, extended order, trench raids, foxholes, armored cars, night
attacks, flares, sharpshooters in trees, interlaced vines and treetops,
which were the forerunners of barbed wire, trip wires to thwart a cavalry
charge, which presaged the mine trap, and the general use of anesthetics.
The use of map coordinates was begun when the senior officers
began to select tactical points by designating a spot as "near the
letter ~o in the word mountain". A few weeks later the maps were
being divided into squares and a position was described as being "about
lots 239, 247 and 272 with pickets forward as far as 196". This
system was dependent upon identical maps and Thomas supplied them
from a mobile lithograph press.
Orders of the day began to specify the
standard map for the movement. Sherman proved that a railway
base could be movable and the most brilliant feature of the Atlanta
campaign was the rapid repair of the tracks. To the Rebels it seemed
as if Sherman carried tunnels and bridges in his pockets. The whistle
of Sherman's locomotives often drowned out the rattle of the skirmish
fire. As always, the ranks worked out new and better tactics, but
there was brilliance in the way the field commands adopted these methods
and in the way the army commanders incorporated them into their
military thinking. The fossilized, formalized, precedent-based thinking
of the legendary military brain was not evident in Sherman's armies.
Sherman could never be accused of sticking too long with the old.

One of Sherman's most serious shortcomings, however, was

his mistrust of his cavalry. He never saw that it was a complement to
his infantry and not a substitute for it. Then, in some way, this lack
of faith in the cavalry became mixed up in his mind with the dragging
effect of wagon trains and was hardened into a prejudice. A horse
needed twenty pounds of food a day but the infantryman got along with
two pounds. The horseman required eleven times more than the footman.
So Sherman tried a compromise. He would ship by rail five pounds per
day per animal and the other fifteen pounds that were needed could
be picked up off the country. It failed to work. Already debilitated
by the Chattanooga starvation, the quality of Sherman's horseflesh
ran downhill as the campaign progressed. Every recorded request by
Thomas for a delay in a flank movement or an advance was to gain time
to take care
of his horses. Well led, properly organized cavalry,
in its complementary role to infantry, had four functions. First,
it could locate the enemy infantry, learn what they were doing, and hold
them until the heavy foot columns could come up and take over. Second,
it could screen its own infantry from the sight of the enemy. Third,
it could threaten at all times, and destroy when possible, the enemy
communications. It could reach key tactical points faster than infantry
and destroy them or hold them as the case might be for the foot
soldier. Its climactic role was to pursue and demoralize a defeated
enemy but this chance never came in the Atlanta campaign. Thomas tried
hard to have his cavalry ready for the test it was to meet, but his
plans were wrecked when it was forced into a campaign without optimum
mobility and with its commander stripped from it. Sherman knew
the uses of cavalry as well as Thomas but he imagined a moving base
with infantry wings instead of cavalry wings. His conception proved
workable but slower and it enabled his enemy to make clean, deft, well
organized retreats with small materiel losses. Sherman insisted that
cavalry could not successfully break up hostile railways, yet Garrard's
Covington raid and Rousseau's Opelika raid cut two-thirds
of the rail lines he had to break and Sherman lived in mortal fear of
what Forrest might do to his communications. When McPherson
pushed blindly through Snake Creek Gap in a potentially decisive
movement, the only cavalry in his van was the Ninth Illinois Mounted
Infantry, totally inadequate for its role. It stumbled on infantry
where no infantry should have been and McPherson's aggressive impulse
faded out, overwhelmed by fears of the unknown. A proper cavalry
command in his front would have developed the fact that he had run into
one division of Polk's Army of the Mississippi moving up from
the direction of Mobile to join Johnston at Dalton. From the night
of August 30 to the morning of September 2 there was no Union cavalry
east of the Macon railway to disclose to Sherman that he was missing
the greatest opportunity of his career. A great part of the time,
Thomas' infantry never knew the location of the enemy line. At such
times Thomas wondered when and where a counterattack would strike
him. It was the hard way to fight a war but Thomas did it without making
any disastrous mistakes. Heat during the Atlanta campaign,
coupled with unsuitable clothing, caused individual irritation that
was compounded by a lack of opportunity to bathe and shift into clean
clothing. To relieve the itch and sweat galls, the men got into the
water whenever they could and since each sizable stream was generally
the dividing line between the armies the pickets declared a private
truce while the men went swimming. Johnston believed that Sherman put
his naked engineers into the swimming parties to locate the various
fords. Lieutenant Colonel James P& Brownlow, who commanded the
First Brigade of Thomas' First Cavalry Division, was ordered across
one of these fords. The water was deep and Brownlow took his troopers
across naked- except for guns, cartridge boxes and hats. They
kicked their horses through the deep water with their bare heels, drove
the Rebels out of their rifle pits and captured four men. Most of
the Rebels got away since they could make better time through the stiff
brush than their naked pursuers. Rank was becoming an explosive
issue in all three of Sherman's armies. Merited recommendations
from army commanders were passed over in favor of political appointees
from civil life.

In one of the very few letters in which he ever complained of

Meynell, Thompson told Patmore of his distress at having had to leave
London before this new friendship had developed further: "

That was a very absurd and annoying situation in which I was placed
by
W& M&'s curious methods of handling me. He never let me know
that my visit was about to terminate until the actual morning I was
to leave for Lymington. The result was that I found myself in the
ridiculous position of having made a formal engagement by letter for
the next week, only two days before my departure from London. Luckily
both women knew my position and if anyone suffered in their opinion
it was not I". It need hardly be remarked that Thompson was not
generally known for his scrupulosity about keeping his social engagements,
which makes his irritation in this letter all the more significant.

When Thompson and her daughter began a correspondence which

included fervent verses from Pantasaph, Mrs& King felt a proper
Victorian alarm. Some, she knew, looked upon Thompson almost as a
saint,
but others read in "The Hound of Heaven" what they took to
be the confessions of a great sinner, who, like Oscar Wilde, had-
as one pious writer later put it- thrown himself "on the swelling
wave of every passion". Consequently, on October 31, 1896,
Mrs& King wrote to Thompson, quite against her daughter's wishes,
asking him not to "recommence a correspondence which I believe
has been dropped for some weeks". Katherine was staying at a convent,
and her mother felt that, as Thompson himself seems to have suggested,
she might eventually stay there. This prospect did not please Mrs&
King any more than did the possibility that her daughter might
marry a Bohemian, but she used it to suggest to Thompson that,
"It
is not in her nature to love you". For his part, Thompson
had explained in a previous letter that there would be nothing but an
honorable friendship between Katie and himself. At no time does he
seem to have proposed marriage, and Mrs& King was evidently torn between
a concern for her daughter's emotions and the desire to believe
that the friendship might be continued without harm to her reputation.
In any case, she told Thompson that she saw no reason why he might
not see Katie again, "now that this frank explanation has been made
+ no one can misunderstand". She ended her letter with the assurance
that she considered his friendship for her daughter and herself
to be an honor, from which she could not part "without still more pain".

After Thompson came to London to live, he received a

letter from Katie, which was dated February 8, 1897. She regretted
what she described as the "unwarrantable + unnecessary" check to their
friendship and said that she felt that they understood one another
perfectly. This letter concluded with an invitation: " I
am a great deal at the little children's Hospital. Mr& Meynell
knows the way. I know you are very busy now, you are writing a great
deal + your book is coming out, isn't it? but if you are able + care
to come, you know how glad I shall be. Ever yours sincerely,

Katherine Douglas King" The invitation was accepted and

other letters followed, in which she spoke of her concern for his health
and her delight in seeing him so much at home among the crippled
children she served. It is difficult to say what Thompson expected
would come of their relationship, which had begun so soon after his emotions
had been stirred by Maggie Brien, but when Katie wrote on April
11, 1900, to tell him that she was to be married to the Rev& Godfrey
Burr, the vicar of Rushall in Staffordshire, the news evidently
helped to deepen his discouragement over the failure of his hopes
for a new volume of verse. In a letter to Meynell, which was written
in June, less than a month before Katie's wedding, he was highly
melodramatic in his despair and once again announced his intention of
returning to the life of the streets: " A week in arrears,
and without means to pay, I must go, it is the only right thing. **h
Perhaps Mrs& Meynell would do me the undeserved kindness to keep
my own copy of the first edition of my first book, with all its mementos
of her and the dear ones. **h Last, not least, there are some poems
which K& King sent me (addressed to herself) when I was preparing
a fresh volume, asking me to include them. The terrible blow of
the New Year put an end to that project. I wish you would return them
to her. I have not the heart. **h I never had the courage to look
at them, when my projected volume became hopeless, fearing they were
poor, until now when I was obliged to do so. **h O my genius, young
and <ripening,> you would swear,- when I wrote them; and now!
What has it all come to? All chance of fulfilling my destiny is
over. **h I want you to be grandfather to these orphaned poems, dear
father-brother, now I am gone; and launch them on the world when their
time comes. For them a box will be lodgment enough. **h Katie cannot
mind your seeing them now; since my silence must have ended when
I gave the purposed volume to you. **h I ask you to do me the last
favour of reading them by 8 to-morrow evening, about which time I shall
come to say my sad good-bye. If you don't think much of them, tell
me the wholesome truth. If otherwise, you will give me a pleasure.
O Wilfrid! it is strange; but this- yes, <terrible> step I
am about to take **h is lightened with an inundating joy by the new-found
hope that here, in these poems, is treasure- or at least some
measure of beauty, which I did not know of". **h Thompson, of
course,
was persuaded not to take the <"terrible> step"; Meynell once
again paid his debts and it was Katie, rather than Thompson, whose
life was soon ended, for she died in childbirth in April, 1901, in
the first year of her marriage. The "orphaned poems" mentioned
in the letter to Meynell comprised a group of five sonnets, which
were published in the 1913 edition of Thompson's works under the
heading "Ad Amicam", plus certain other completed pieces and rough
drafts gathered together in one of the familiar exercise books. The
publication of Father Connolly's <The Man Has Wings> has made
more of the group available in print so that a general picture of
what it contained can now be had without difficulty. Some of the poems
express a mood of joy in a newly discovered love; others suggest its
coming loss or describe the poet's feelings when he learns of a final
separation. The somewhat Petrarchan love story which these
poems suggest cannot obscure the fact that undoubtedly they have more
than a little of autobiographical sincerity. When they were first
written, there was evidently no thought of their being published, and
those which refer to the writer's love for Mrs& Meynell particularly
have the ring of truth. In "My Song's Young Virgin Date",
for example, Thompson wrote: "Yea, she that had my song's
young virgin date Not now, alas, that noble singular she, I nobler
hold, though marred from her once state, Than others in their best integrity.
My own stern hand has rent the ancient bond, And thereof shall
the ending not have end: But not for me, that loved her, to be
fond Lightly to please me with a newer friend. Then hold it more than
bravest-feathered song, That I affirm to thee, with heart of pride,
I knew not what did to a friend belong Till I stood up, true friend,
by thy true side; Whose absence dearer comfort is, by far, Than
presences of other women are"! Taking into account Thompson's
capacity for self-dramatization and the possibility of a wish
to identify his own life with the misfortunes of other poets who had known
unhappy loves, there can be no doubt about his genuine emotion for
Katie King. That she was affected by his protestations seems obvious,
but since she was evidently a sensible young woman- as well as
an outgoing and sympathetic type- it would seem that for her the word
<friendship> had a far less intense emotional significance than that
which Thompson gave it. From the outset, she must have realized that
marriage with him was out of the question, and although she was displeased
by the "unwarrantable" interference, it seems probable that
she did agree with her mother's suggestion that the poet was "perhaps"
a man "most fitted to live + die solitary, + in the love
only of the Highest Lover". The poems which were addressed
to her, while they are far more restrained than those of "Love in
Dian's Lap", show no great technical advance over those of the "Narrow
Vessel" group and are, if anything, somewhat more labored.
Their interest remains chiefly biographical, for they throw some light
on the utter despair which overtook Thompson in the spring and early
summer of 1900. Whether or not Danchin is correct in suggesting
that Thompson's resumption of the opium habit also dates from
this period is, of course, a matter of conjecture. Reid simply states,
without offering any supporting evidence, that "after he returned
to London, he resumed his draughts of laudanum, and continued this
right up to his death". There is every reason to recognize that in
the very last years of his life, as we shall see, Thompson did take
the drug in carefully rationed doses to ease the pains of his illness,
but the exact date at which this began has never been determined. If,
as Reid says, "nearly all his poetry was produced when he was not
taking opium", there may be some reason to doubt that he was under
its influence in the period from 1896 to 1900 when he was writing the
poems to Katie King and making plans for another book of verse. In
any event, the critical productivity of that time is abundant proof that
if he was taking laudanum, it was never in command of him to the extent
that it had been during his vagrant years. Meynell's remedy
for Thompson's despondent mood was typically practical. He simply
found more work for him to do, and the articles and reviews continued
without an evident break. #@ /3, @#

As a reviewer, Thompson
generally displayed a judicious attitude. That he read some
of the books assigned to him with a studied carefulness is evident from
his notes, which are often so full that they provide an unquestionable
basis for the identification of reviews that were printed without
his signature. On the basis of this careful reading, Thompson frequently
gave a clear, complete, and interesting description of a prose work
or chose effective quotations to illustrate his discussions of poetry.

He was seldom an unmethodical critic, and his reviews generally

followed a systematic pattern: a description of what the work
contained, a treatment of the things that had especially interested him
in it, and, wherever possible, a balancing of whatever artistic merits
and faults he might have found. It was, of course, in this
drawing
of the balance sheet of judgment that he most clearly displayed his desire
to do full justice to an author. Reviewing Davidson's <The
Testament of an Empire Builder,> for example, Thompson found
that
there was "too much metrical dialectic". Poetry, he said, must be
"dogmatic": it must not stoop to argue like a "K&C& in
cloth-of-gold". Yet Davidson impressed him as a poet capable of "sustained
power, passion, or beauty", and he cited specific passages
to illustrate not only these qualities but Davidson's command of
imagery as well. Similarly, he wrote that Laurence Housman had a "too
deliberate manner" as well as a lack of "inevitable felicity
in diction". But he admired Housman's "subtle intellectuality"
and delighted in the inversion by which Divine Love becomes the most
"fatal" allurement in "Love the Tempter". Of course,
there were books about which nothing good could be said. Understanding,
as he did, the difficulty of the art of poetry, and believing
that the "only technical criticism worth having in poetry is that of
poets", he felt obliged to insist upon his duty to be hard to please
when it came to the review of a book of verse.

As he had done on his first Imperial sortie a year and a half

before, Lewis trekked southeast through Red Russia to Kamieniec.
Thence he pushed farther south than he had ever been before into Podolia
and Nogay Tartary or the Yedisan. There, along the east bank
of the Southern Bug, opposite the hamlet of Zhitzhakli a few miles
north of the Black Sea, he arrived at General Headquarters of the
Russian Army. By June 19, 1788, he had presented himself to its Commander
in Chief, the Governor of the Southern Provinces, the Director
of the War College- The Prince. ##

Catherine's first
war against the Grand Turk had ended in 1774 with a peace treaty
quite favorable to her. By 1783 her legions had managed to annex the
Crimea amid scenes of wanton cruelty and now, in this second combat with
the Crescent, were aiming at suzerainty over all of the Black Sea's
northern shoreline. Through most of 1787 operations on
both sides had been lackadaisical; those of 1788 were going to prove
decisive, though many of their details are obscure. To consolidate what
her Navy had won, the Czarina was fortunate that, for the first
time in Russian history, her land forces enjoyed absolute unity of command
under her favorite Giaour. Potemkin was directing this conflict
on three fronts: in the Caucasus; along the Danube and among the
Carpathians, in alliance with the Emperor Joseph's armies; and
in the misty marshlands and shallow coastal waters of Nogay Tartary
and Taurida, including the Crimean peninsula. Here the war would
flame to its focus, and here Lewis Littlepage had come. Potemkin's
Army of Ekaterinoslav, totaling, it was claimed, 40,000 regular
troops and 6,000 irregulars of the Cossack Corps, had invested
Islam's principal stronghold on the north shore of the Black Sea,
the fortress town of Oczakov, and was preparing to test the Turk by
land and sea. During a sojourn of slightly more than three months Chamberlain
Littlepage sould see action on both elements. As his
second in command The Prince had Marshal Repnin, one-time Ambassador
to Poland. Repnin, who had a rather narrow face, longish nose,
high forehead, and arching brows, looked like a quizzical Mephistopheles.
Some people thought he lacked both ability and character, but
most
agreed that he was noble in appearance and, for a Russian, humane.
The Marshal came to know Littlepage quite well. At General Headquarters
the newcomer in turn got to know others. There was the Neapolitan,
Ribas, a capable conniver whose father had been a blacksmith
but who had fawned his way up the ladder of Catherine's and Potemkin's
favor till he was now a brigadier (and would one day be the daggerman
designated to do in Czar Paul /1,, after traveling all the
way
to Naples to procure just the right stiletto). Then there were
the distinguished foreign volunteers. Representing the Emperor were
the Prince de Ligne, still as impetuous as a youth of twenty; and
General the Count Pallavicini, founder of the Austrian branch of
that celebrated Italian house, a courtier Littlepage could have met
at Madrid in December, 1780. From Milan came the young Chevalier
de Litta, an officer in the service of Malta. Out of Saxony rode
the Prince of Anhalt-Bernburg, one of the Czarina's cousins and
a lieutenant general in her armies, a frank, sensitive, popular soldier
whose kindnesses Littlepage would "always recall with the sincerest
gratitude". Though Catherine was vexed at the number of
French officers streaming to the Turkish standard, there were several
under her own, such as the Prince de Nassau; the energetic Parisian,
Roger de Damas, three year's Littlepage's junior, to whom
Nassau had taken a liking; and the artillerist, Colonel Prevost,
whom the Count de Segur had persuaded to lend his technical skills
to Nassau. England contributed a young subaltern named Newton and
the naval architect Samuel Bentham, brother to the economist, who far
his colonel's commission was proving a godsend to the Russian fleet.
From America were the Messrs& Littlepage and Jones.
Lewis had expected to report at once to Jones's and Nassau's naval
command post. On arrival at headquarters he had, however- in King
Stanislas' words to Glayre- "found such favor with ~Pe
Potemkin that he made him his aide-de-camp and up to now does not want
him to go join Paul Jones **h". So of course he stayed put. Having
done so, he began to experience all the frustrations of others who
attempted to get along with Serenissimus and do a job at the same
time. The Prince's perceptions were quick and his energy monstrous,
but these qualities were sapped by an Oriental lethargy and
a policy of letting nothing interfere with personal passions. At headquarters-
sufficiently far from the firing line to make you forget occasionally
that you were in a war- Lewis found that the Commander
in Chief's only desk was his knees (and his only comb, his fingers).
An entire theater had been set up for his diversion, with a 200-man
Italian orchestra under the well-known Sarti. In the great one's
personal quarters, a portable house, almost every evening saw an elegant
banquet or reception. Lewis could let his eye caress The Prince's
divan, covered with a rose-pink and silver Turkish cloth, or admire
the lovely tapis, interwoven with gold, that spread across the floor.
Filigreed perfume boxes exuded the aromas of Araby. Around the
billiard tables were always at least a couple of dozen beribboned generals.
At dinner the courses were carried in by tall cuirassiers in red
capes and black fur caps topped with tufts of feathers, marching in
pairs like guards from a stage tragedy. Among the visitors arriving
every now and then there were, of course, women. For if Serenissimus
made the sign of the Cross with his right hand, and meant it,
with his left he beckoned lewdly to any lady who happened to catch his
eye. Usually Lewis would find at headquarters one or more of The
Prince's various nieces. Right now he found Sophie de Witt,
that magnificent young matron he had spotted at Kamieniec fours years
ago. The Prince took her with him on every tour around the area,
and it was rumored he was utilizing her knowledge of Constantinople
as part of his espionage network. One evening he passed around the banquet
table a crystal cup full of diamonds, requesting every female guest
to select one as a souvenir. When a lady chanced to soil a pair of
evening slippers, Brigadier Bauer was dispatched to Paris for replacements.

But if The Prince fancied women and was fascinated

by foreigners, he could be haughtiness personified to his subordinates.
He had collared one of his generals in public. His coat trimmed
in sable, diamond stars of the Orders of Saints Andrew or George agleam,
he was often prone to sit sulkily, eye downcast, in a Scheherazade
trance. When this happened, everything stopped. As Littlepage
noted: "A complete picture of Prince Potemkin may be had in his
1788 operations. He stays inactive for half the summer in front of Oczakov,
a quite second-rate spot, begins to besiege it <formally> only
during the autumn rains, and finally carries it <by assault> in
the heart of winter. There's a man who never goes by the ordinary road
but still arrives at his goal, who gratuitously gets himself into
difficulty in order to get out of it with eclat, in a word a man who creates
monsters for himself in order to appear a <Hercules> in destroying
them". To help him do so The Prince had conferred control
of his land forces on a soldier who was different from him in almost
every respect save one: both were eccentrics of the purest ray
serene. Alexander Vasilievitch Suvorov, now in his fifty-ninth
year (ten years Potemkin's senior), was a thin, worn-faced person
of less than medium height who looked like a professor of botany. He
had a small mouth with deep furrows on either side, a large flat nose,
and penetrating blue eyes. His gray hair was thin, his face beginning
to attract a swarm of wrinkles. He was ugly. But Suvorov's face
was also a theater of vivacity, and his tough, stooping little frame
was briskness embodied. Like all Russians he was an emotional man,
and in him the emotions warred. Kind by nature, he never refused charity
to a beggar or help to anyone who asked him for it (as Lewis would
one day discover). But he was perpetually engaged in a battle to
command his own temper. When Littlepage was introduced, if the
General behaved as usual, the newcomer faced a staccato salvo of queries:
origin? age? mission? current status? Woe betide the
interviewee if he answered vaguely. Suvorov's contempt for don't-know's
was proverbial; better to give an asinine answer than none
at all. Despising luxuries of any sort for a soldier, he slept on a
pile of hay with his cloak as blanket. He rose at 4:00 A&M& the
year round and
was apt to stride through camp crowing like a cock to wake
his men. His breakfast was tea; his dinner fell anywhere from nine
to noon; his supper was nothing. He hadn't worn a watch or carried
pocket money for years because he disliked both, but highest among
his hates were looking glasses: he had snatched one from an officer's
grasp and smashed it to smithereens. He kept several pet birds
and liked cats well enough that if one crept by, he would mew at it in
friendly fashion. Passing dogs were greeted with a cordial bark.

Yet General Suvorov- who had never forgotten hearing his adored
Czarina declare that all truly great men had oddities- was mad
only north, northwest. He had come to learn that a reputation for peculiarity
allowed mere field officers a certain leeway at Court; in
camp he knew it won you the affection of your men. He had accordingly
cultivated eccentricity to the point of second nature. Underneath, he
remained one of the best-educated Russians of his day. He dabbled
in verse, could get along well among most of the European languages,
and was fluent in French and German. He had also mastered the Cossack
tongue. For those little men with the short whiskers, shaven
polls, and top knots Suvorov reserved a special esteem. Potemkin-
as King Stanislas knew, and presently informed Littlepage- looked
on the Cossacks as geopolitical tools. To Serenissimus such tribes
as the Cossacks of the Don or those ex-bandits the Zaporogian
Cossacks
(in whose islands along the lower Dnieper the Polish novelist
Sienkiewicz would one day place <With Fire and Sword>) were just
elements for enforced resettlement in, say, Bessarabia, where, as
"the faithful of the Black Sea borders", he could use their presence
as baragining points in the Czarina's territorial claims against
Turkey. Suvorov saw in these scimitar-wielding skirmishers not demographic
units but military men of a high potential. He knew how to
channel their exuberant disorderliness so as to transform them from mere
plunderers into A-1 guerrilla
fighters. He always kept a few on his
personal staff. He often donned their tribal costumes, such as the
one featuring a tall, black sheepskin hat from the top of which dangled
a little red bag ornamented by a chain of worsted lace and tassels;
broad red stripes down the trouser leg; broader leather belt round
the waist, holding cartridges and light sabre. Suvorov played parent
not just to his Cossacks but to all his troops. It was probably at
this period that Littlepage got his first good look at the ordinary
Russian soldier. These illiterate boors conscripted from villages
all across the Czarina's empire had, Suvorov may have told Lewis,
just two things a commander could count on: physical fitness and
personal courage. When their levies came shambling into camp, they
were all elbows, hair, and beard. They emerged as interchangeable cogs
in a faulty but formidable machine: shaved nearly naked, hair queued,
greatcoated, jackbooted, and best of all- in the opinion of the
British professional, Major Semple-Lisle- "their minds are not
estranged from the paths of obedience by those smatterings of knowledge
which only serve to lead to insubordination and mutiny".
Mando, pleading her cause, must have said that Dr& Brown was the
most distinguished physician in the United States of America, for
our man poured out his symptoms and drew a madly waving line indicating
the irregularity of his pulse. "He's got high blood pressure, too,
and bum kidneys", the doctor said to me. "Transparent look, waxy
skin- could well be uremia". He looked disapprovingly at an ash
tray piled high with cigarette stubs, shook his head, and moved his
hand back and forth in a strong negative gesture. The little official
hung his head in shame. Seeing this, his colleague at the next desk
gave a short, contemptuous laugh, pushed forward his own ash tray, innocent
of a single butt, thumped his chest to show his excellent condition,
and looked proud. The doctor gravely nodded approval.

At this moment Mando came hurrying up to announce that the problem

was solved and all Norton had to do was to sign a sheaf of papers. We
went out of the office and down the hall to a window where documents
and more officials awaited us, the rest of the office personnel hot
upon our heels. By this time word had got around that an American doctor
was on the premises. One fellow who had liver spots held out his
hands to the great healer. It was funny but it was also touching. "You
know", Norton said to me later, "I am thinking of setting
up the Klinico Brownapopolus. I might not make any money but I'd
sure have patients". After luncheon we took advantage of
the siesta period to try to get in touch with a few people to whom our
dear friend Deppy had written. Deppy is Despina Messinesi, a long-time
member of the <Vogue> staff who, although born in Boston, was
born there
of Greek parents. Several years of her life have been spent in
the homeland, and she had written to friends to alert them of our coming.
"All you have to do, Ilka dear, is to phone on your arrival.
They are longing to see you". The wear and tear of life have taught
me that very few friends of mutual friends long to see foreign strangers,
but I planned on being the soul of tact, of giving them plenty
of outs was there the tiniest implication that their cups were already
running over without us. My diplomacy was needless. Greek phone service
is worse than French, so that it was to be some little time before
contact of any sort was established. In the late afternoon
Mando came back to fetch us, and we drove to the Acropolis. We stopped
first at the amphitheater that lies at the foot of the height crowned
by the Parthenon. The curving benches are broken, chipped, tumbled,
but still in place, as are the marble chairs, the seats of honor
for the legislators. The carved statues of the frieze against the low
wall are for the most part headless, but their exquisitely graceful nude
and draped torsos and the kneeling Atlantes are well preserved in
their perfect proportion. Having completed our camera work, we
started our climb. I suppose the same emotion holds, if to a lesser
degree, with any famous monument. Will it live up to its reputation?
The weight of fame and history is formidable, and dreary steel engravings
in schoolbooks do little to quicken interest and imagination. Uh
huh, we think, looking at them, so that's the Parthenon. And then
perhaps one day we get to Athens. We are here! We've come a
long way and spent a lot of money. It had better be good. Don't worry
about the Acropolis. It is awe-inspiring. Probably every visitor
has a favorite time for his first sight of it. We saw it frequently
afterward, but our suggestion for the very first encounter is near sunset.
The light at that time is a benediction. The serene, majestic
columns of the Parthenon, tawny in color against the pure deep blue sky,
frame incredible vistas. All we wanted to do was to stand very quietly
and look and look and look. More than twenty-four hundred
years old, bruised, battered, worn and partially destroyed, combining
to an astounding degree solidity and grace, it still stands, incomparable
testimony to man's aspiration. In 1687 the Turks, who had been
in control of the city since the fifteenth century, with a truly shattering
lack of prudence used the Parthenon as a powder magazine. It
was hit by a shell fired by the bombarding Venetian army and the great
central portion of the temple was blown to smithereens. Nearby
is the temple of Athena. The architectural feature, the caryatides
upholding the portico, famous around the world as the Porch of the
Maidens, was referred to airily by Mando as the Girls' Place.
Another beautiful building is the Propylaea, the entrance gate of the
Acropolis. My other nugget of art and architectural knowledge-
besides remembering that it was Ghiberti who designed the doors
of the baptistery in Florence- is the three styles of Greek columns.
For some happy reason Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian have always
stuck in my mind. Furthermore I can identify each design. It remained,
however, for Mando to teach me that Doric symbolized strength,
Ionic wisdom, and Corinthian beauty, the three pillars of the ancient
world. The columns of the Parthenon are fluted Doric. Another
classic sight that gave us considerable pleasure was the evzone sentry,
in his ballet skirt with great pompons on his shoes, who was patrolling
up and down in front of the palace. Gun on shoulder, he would
march smartly for a few yards, bring his heels together with a click,
make a brisk pirouette, skirts flaring, and march back to his point
of departure. We did not dare speak to so exalted a being, but Norton
aimed his camera and shot him, so to speak, on the rise, the split second
between the halt and the turn. The evening of our first
day we drove with Christopher and Judy Sakellariadis, who were friends
and patients of Norton, to dine at a restaurant on the shores of
the Aegean. On the way out Mr& Sakellariadis detoured up a special
hill from which one may obtain a matchless view of the Acropolis lighted
by night. The great spectacle was a source of rancor, and
Son et Lumiere, which the French were trying to promote with the
Athenians,
was the reason. These performances were being staged at historical
monuments throughout Europe. By a combination of music, lighting
effects, and narration, famous events that have transpired in
these
locations are evoked and re-created for large audiences usually to
considerable acclaim. The Acropolis had been scheduled for the treatment
too, but apparently it was to take place at the time of the full
moon when the Athenians themselves, out of respect for the natural beauty
of the occasion, were wont to forgo their own usual nocturnal illumination.

Athenian society was split into two factions, the Philistines

and the Artists. The Artists contended that the Philistines,
gross of soul, were all for having Son et Lumiere, since the
French were footing the bill and the attraction, wherever it had been
done, had proven popular. This was the crassest kind of materialism
and they, the Artists, would have no truck with it. The Acropolis
was unique in the world and if that imcomparable work flooded by moonlight
wasn't enough for both natives and tourists, then they were quite
simply barbarians
and the hell with them. It was very stimulating.

The restaurant to which the Sakellariadises took us on this night

of controversy was the Asteria, on Asteria beach. This is a public
bathing beach, easily accessible by tramway from the center of Athens.
Office workers frequently go out there to lunch and swim during
the siesta period, which, during the summer, lasts from two until five
in the afternoon, when shops and offices are again open for business.
They close sometime after eight. Nine o'clock is the rush hour,
when the busses are jammed, and by nine-thirty the restaurants are beginning
to fill. Bedtime is late, for the balmy evenings are delightful
and everyone wants to linger under the stars. The sand is fine
and pleasant, the cabanas are clean, and the parasols, green, raspberry,
and butter yellow, are very gay. Although open to the general
public it is not overcrowded; the atmosphere is that of an attractive
private beach club at home. We went there a couple of times to swim
and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. This agreeable state of affairs is
explicable, I think, on two counts. One is Greece is not yet suffering
from overpopulation. The public may still find pleasure in public
places. The other is that the charge for cabanas and parasols, though
modest from an American point of view, still is a little high for
many Athenians. We were struck by the notable absence of banana skins
and beer cans, but just so that we wouldn't go overboard on Greek
refinement, perfection was side-stepped by a couple of braying portable
radios. Greek boys and girls also go for rock-and-roll, and the stations
most tuned to are those carrying United States overseas programs.
A good deal of English was spoken on the beach, most educated Greeks
learn it in childhood, and there were also American wives and
children of our overseas servicemen. For a delightful drive out
of Athens I should recommend Sounion, at the end of the Attic Peninsula.
The road, a comparatively new one, is very good, winding along
inlets, coves, and bays of deep and brilliant blue. I suppose the
day will inevitably come when the area will be encrusted with developments,
but at present it is deserted and seductive. Three beneficial
hurdles to progress are the lack of water, electricity, and telephones.

At Sounion there is a group of beautiful columns, the ruins

of a temple to Poseidon, of particular interest at that time, as active
reconstruction was in progress. Gaunt scaffoldings adjoined the ruins,
and on the ground segments of columns two and a half to three feet
in thickness were being fitted with sections cunningly chiseled to
match exactly the fluting and proportion of the original. Later they
would be hoisted into place. There is a mediocre restaurant at
Sounion and I fed a thin little Grecian cat and gave it two saucers
of water- there was no milk- which it lapped up as though it were
nectar. I think its thirst had never been assuaged before. Norton
and I dined one night in a sea-food restaurant in Piraeus right
on the water's edge. To enter it, you go down five or six steps
from the road. Across the road is the kitchen, and waiters bearing great
trays of dishes dodge traffic as nimbly as their French colleagues
at the restaurant in the Place du Tertre in Paris. This restaurant,
too, had a cat, a dusty, thin little creature. How <can>
a cat be thin in a fish restaurant? But this one was. When offered
a morsel it glanced right and left and winced, obviously frightened
and expecting a kick, but too hungry not to snatch the tidbit. Greece
was one of the highlights of our trip, but beginning in Greece and continuing
around the world throughout Southeast Asia the treatment of
animals was horrifying, ranging from callous indifference to active
cruelty. This of course was not true of the educated and sophisticated
people we met, who loved their pets, but kindness is not a basic human
instinct. We met some charming Athenians, and among them our
chauffeur Panyotis ranked high. His English was limited, and the
little he knew he found irritating. A particularly galling phrase was
"O&K&, Panyotis, we have time at our disposal". This he
claimed was the favorite refrain of the English. They would be lolling
under a tree sipping Ouzo, relishing the leisurely life, assuring
him that the day was yet young.
"Let him become honest, and they discard him.- But let him be ready
to invent whatever falsehood- to assail whatever character- and
to prostitute his paper to whatever ends- and they hug him to their
heart. In proportion to the degradation of his moral worth, is the
increase of his worth to them". To exonerate the legislature
and thereby extricate himself from a sticky situation, Pike took another
course and made it appear that the legislature had been bilked. He
claimed in his attacks that Woodruff, with scurrilous underhandedness,
had deliberately written an ambiguous bid that had so confused the
honest members of the legislature that they had awarded him the contract
without knowing what they were doing. The charge was so farfetched
that Woodruff paid little attention to it, and answered Pike
in a rather bored way, wearily declaring that a "new hand" was
pumping the bellows of the Crittenden organ, and concluding: "In
a controversy with an adversary so utterly destitute of moral principles,
even a triumph would entitle the victor to no laurels. The game
is not worth the ammunition it would cost. We therefore leave the writer
to the enjoyment of the unenvied reputation which the personal abuse
he has heaped on us will entitle him to from the low and vulgar herd
to which he belongs". Despite Woodruff's continuing refusal
to debate with Pike through the columns of his newspaper, Pike
did not let up his attack for a moment. Over the months he became a
political gadfly with an incessant barrage of satirical poems ridiculing
Woodruff, the "Casca" letters belittling Woodruff, and long
analytical articles vilifying Woodruff. So persistent were these attacks
that in March of the following year, Woodruff was finally moved
to action, and Pike was to learn his first lesson in frontier politics,
the subtle art of diversion. To attack Pike directly would
gain Woodruff little, for as a penniless newcomer Pike had nothing
to lose. By this time Woodruff had accurately measured Pike as a
man of great personal pride, a man who would fly into a towering rage
if his integrity were questioned, and who would be anxious to avenge himself.
Pike's honor would now come under attack, but not by Woodruff
himself. The charges would be made in the <Gazette> by an anonymous
correspondent, and Pike would be so busy trying to track down the
illusive character assassin that he would forget about harassing Woodruff.
The strategy worked perfectly. Pike was stunned by the
first blast against his character, which was published in the March
4th issue of the <Gazette> under the name "Vale". The anonymous
correspondent did not resort to innuendoes. He called Pike a thief.
He said Pike had stolen mules from Harris during the Santa Fe
expedition; he accused Pike of continuing his sticky-fingered career
in Arkansas with the theft of some otter skins in Van Buren. The
charges caught Pike off balance, coming as they did from an unexpected
quarter. Outraged, he used the <Advocate> of March 7th for a
denial, sending immediately to Santa Fe and Van Buren for documents
to vindicate himself, and demanding that Woodruff reveal the name
of this perfidious slanderer who disguised himself under a pastoral pseudonym.

Woodruff said nothing, and Pike, frustrated, stormed

throughout Little Rock in an unsuccessful search for "Vale",
asking
his friends to keep their ears open. Finally he learned through
the grapevine that the culprit might be one James W& Robinson in
Pope County. Without further inquiry, Pike jumped to the conclusion
that Robinson was guilty, and, following the honorable route that
would
eventually lead to the dueling ground, sent a message to Robinson
through his friends, demanding that he either confirm or deny his complicity.
Robinson did neither. To Pike, silence was tantamount to an
admission of guilt, and he determined to get Robinson onto the dueling
ground at all costs. On April 11th he wrote an open letter in the
<Advocate>, making it known "to the world that Jas& W& Robinson
<is by his own admission> a base LIAR and a SLANDERER".

If Robinson was a liar and a slanderer, he was also

a very canny gentleman, for nothing that Pike could do would pry so
much as a single word out of him. Preoccupied with his own defense and
his attempts to get Robinson to fight, Pike lessened his attacks
on Woodruff, and finally stopped them altogether. And Pike never did
find out if Robinson was really responsible for the "Vale" letter.
Woodruff's strategy had been immensely successful. It
took Pike a long time to realize what Woodruff had done, and it had
a profound effect on him. Once he learned a lesson, he never forgot it.
In the next few months of comparative silence, Pike waited patiently
until conditions were perfect for a new attack, and then, displaying
a remarkable grasp of the subtleties of political infighting, gained
from his first bout with Woodruff, he used these changed conditions
to excellent advantage. Shortly after the "Vale" incident,
a rift began to develop between William Woodruff and Governor Pope.
One-armed, gruff, frugally honest, Governor Pope had been the
ideal man to assume office in Arkansas after the disgraceful antics of
political bosses like Crittenden, and he ruled the state with an iron
fist, tolerating no nonsense. Woodruff had supported him all the way,
both as a chief executive and as a man. Besides being political allies,
they were also friends. This warm relationship came to an abrupt
end in June of 1834 when the National Congress appropriated $3,000
for compiling and printing the laws of Arkansas Territory, and,
taking note of the recent wave of corruption in the legislature, left
it to the governor to award the contract. Woodruff wanted this
political windfall very badly, and everyone assumed that he would get
it because he was a close friend of the governor and his stanchest supporter.
After all, Woodruff owned a competent printing plant and was
the logical man for the job. But because the governor was determined
that friendship should not influence him one way or the other, he looked
for a printer with a knowledge of the law (which Woodruff did not
have), and awarded the contract to a lawyer named John Steele who
had started a newspaper in Helena the year before. Woodruff was
furious. Considering the governor's act a personal rebuff, he aired
his feelings in the <Gazette> on August 26, 1834: "We think
the governor treated us rather shabbily, to say the least of it. **h
It is but justice to Mr& Steele for us to add that, in the above
remarks, nothing is intended to his disparagement, either as a lawyer
or as a printer. He got a good fat job and we congratulate him on his
good luck. We hope that he will execute it in a manner that will entitle
him to credit". As summer cooled into fall and winter,
even so the relationship between the two men continued to grow colder
by the day, and by December of 1834 it was icy. It was at this point
that Pike decided to capitalize on the bad feelings between the two
men. The eventual prize in this new battle was the public printing contract
that Woodruff still held. From his first bout with the
canny Woodruff, Pike had learned that it was better not to attack him
directly, so, harping on the theme that the cost of printing was too
high, he condemned the governor for permitting such a state of affairs
to exist. To document his charge, Pike set up two parallel columns
in the <Advocate> showing the price charged by the <Gazette> and
the considerably lower price for which the work could be done elsewhere.
Then he called on the governor to explain why. The governor
was not used to having his integrity questioned, and he promptly
passed the charges on to Woodruff, demanding that Woodruff answer them.
If Woodruff could not furnish a strong explanation, the governor
insisted that he lower his prices in accord with the scale printed in
the <Advocate>. Woodruff was now impaled on the horns of a dilemma.
As a proud man, his prestige would suffer if he let Pike dictate
to him through the governor's office, but to lower his prices would
be tantamount to an admission that they had been too high in the first
place. As a consequence, he did neither. Very angry at Woodruff,
the governor used his personal influence to have the printing contract
withdrawn from the <Gazette> and awarded to the lowest bidder, which,
by a strange coincidence, happened to be Pike's <Advocate>.
And, for the moment at least, the governor now found himself allied with
the head of the Crittenden faction he had formerly opposed, and Pike
was credited with a clear triumph over Woodruff. But in
the
confused atmosphere of frontier politics, alliances were as quickly
broken as they were formed, and as Pike came to favor with the governor
of the Territory, the governor fell out of favor with the President
of the United States. On January 28, 1835, Andrew Jackson removed
Pope from office and elevated Territorial Secretary William
S& Fulton to the position. Fulton was a very close friend of Jackson,
and had been his private secretary for a number of years in the
old days. As a stanch party man and a rabid Democrat, he had little
tolerance for Whigs like Pike, and Pike lost any immediate personal
advantage his victory over Woodruff might have gained him.

#2#

As Pike proved himself adept in the political arena, he also became

a social lion in the village of Little Rock, where he served as a symbol
of the culture that the ladies of the town were striving so eagerly
to cultivate. After all, Pike was an established poet and his work
had been published in the respectable periodicals of that center of
American culture, Boston. His accomplishments, and the fact that he
was resident, did much to offset the unkind words travelers used to
describe Little Rock after a visit there. For some reason, none of
them were impressed with the territorial capital. The internationally
known sportsman and traveler Friedrich Gersta^cker was typical of
its detractors in the mid-thirties. "Little Rock is a vile, detestable
place **h". he wrote. "Little Rock is, without any flattery,
one of the dullest towns in the United States and I would not have
remained two hours in the place, if I had not met with some good friends
who made me forget its dreariness". Pike enjoyed his
new social position tremendously, and cultivated in himself those traits
necessary to its preservation. He was especially popular with women,
for, like the romantic poetry he wrote, he was personally gracious,
gallant, and chivalrous. He again began to play the violin, and tucking
the instrument beneath his chin, performed soulful and romantic airs
to match the expressions on the faces of the lovely women who gathered
to hear him. His artistic accomplishments guaranteed him entry into
any social gathering. He composed songs and set them to music and
sang them in a soft, melodious voice, and when his audience had had enough
of music he would discourse on politics or tell stories of his western
adventures guaranteed to excite the emotions of men and women alike.

The bulk of his early reputation, however, came not from

his poetry or his music, but from his excellence as an orator. By 1834
the art of oratory had reached a very high level in the United States
as a literary form. The orator of this period, in order to earn a
reputation, had to pay close attention to the formal composition of his
speech, judging how it would appear in print as well as the effect
it would have on the audience that heard it. Very soon after his
arrival in Little Rock, Pike had joined one of the most influential
organizations in town, the Little Rock Debating Society, and it
was with this group that he made his debut as an orator, being invited
to deliver the annual Fourth of July address the club sponsored every
year.
SAMUEL GORTON, founder of Warwick, was styled by the historian
Samuel Greene Arnold "one of the most remarkable men who ever lived".
A biographer called him "the premature John the Baptist of
New England Transcendentalism". The historian Charles Francis
Adams called him "a crude and half-crazy thinker". His contemporaries
in Massachusetts called him an arch-heretic, a beast, a miscreant,
a proud and pestilent seducer, a prodigious minter of exorbitant
novelties. Edward Rawson, secretary of the colony of Massachusetts
Bay, described him as "a man whose spirit was stark drunk with blasphemies
and insolence, a corrupter of the truth, a disturber of the peace
wherever he comes". Nathaniel Morton stated he "was deeply leavened
with blasphemous and familistical opinions". He was thrown
out, more or less, from Boston, Plymouth, Pocasset, Newport, and Providence.

On the other hand, Dr& Ezra Styles recorded the

following testimony of John Angell, the last disciple of Gorton:
" He said Gorton was a holy man; wept day and night for
the sins and blindness of the world **h had a long walk through the trees
and woods by his house, where he constantly walked morning and evening,
and even in the depths of the night, alone by himself, for contemplation
and the enjoyment of the dispensation of light. He was universally
beloved by his neighbours, and the Indians, who esteemed him,
not only as a friend, but one high in communion with God in Heaven".
Gorton sometimes signed himself "a professor of the mysteries of
Christ". There is plenty more to recommend Gorton, the facts
of whose life are given in <The Life and Times of Samuel Gorton,>
by Adelos Gorton. He fought like a fiend for the helpless and
oppressed, worked for the abolition of slavery, helped the Quakers
and Indians, and worked against the prosecution of witches. He defied
the Boston hierarchy, and after they sent a small army to get him
he befuddled the court, including John Cotton, with one of the most
complicated religious discourses ever heard. Samuel Gorton was
born at Gorton, England, near the present city of Manchester, about
1592. Although he did not attend any celebrated schools or universities,
he was a master of Greek and Hebrew and could read the Bible
in the original. He worked as a "clothier" in London, but was greatly
concerned with religion. Gorton left England, he said,
"to enjoy libertie of conscience in respect to faith towards God,
and for no other end". With his wife and three or more children he
arrived in Boston in March, 1637, and soon found it was no place for
anyone looking for liberty of conscience. Roger Williams had recently
been thrown out, and Anne Hutchinson and her Antinomians were slugging
it out with the powers-that-be. Gorton and his family moved to
Plymouth. Soon he was in trouble there, for defending a woman
who was accused of smiling in church. She was Ellen Aldridge, a widow
of good repute who was employed by Gorton's wife and lived with
the family. The report was: " It had been whispered privately
that she had smiled in the congregation, and the Governor Prence
sent to knoe her business, and command, after punishment as the bench
see fit, her departure and also anyone who brought her "to the place
from which she came"". Gorton said they were preparing to deport
her as a vagabond, and to escape the shame she fled to the woods for
several days, returning at night. He advised the poor woman not to
appear in court as what she was charged with was not in violation of
law. Gorton appeared for her, however, and what he told the magistrates
must have been plenty, for he was charged with deluding the court,
fined, and told to leave the colony within fourteen days. He left in
a storm for Pocasset, December 4, 1638. His wife was in delicate health
and nursing an infant with measles. The unconquerable Mrs&
Hutchinson was residing at Pocasset, after having been excommunicated
by the Boston church and thrown out of the colony. One can imagine
that with her and Gorton there it was no place for anyone with
weak nerves. William Coddington, who was running the colony, felt constrained
to move seven miles south where, with others- as mentioned
above- he founded Newport. When, in March, 1640, the two towns
were united under Coddington, Gorton claimed the union was irregular
and illegally constituted and that it had never been sanctioned by the
majority of freeholders. Then he became involved in a ruckus
remarkably similar to the one in Plymouth. A cow owned by an old woman
trespassed on Gorton's land. While driving the cow back home the
woman was assaulted by a servant maid of Gorton. The old woman complained
to the deputy governor, who ordered the servant brought before
the court. Gorton reverted to his Plymouth tactics, refused to let
her go, and appeared himself before the Portsmouth grand jury. During
the trial he told off the jury, called them "Just Asses" and
called a freeman "a saucy boy and Jack-an-Apes". He was jailed
and banished. Gorton then moved to Providence and soon put the
town in a turmoil. He held that no group of colonists could set up
or maintain a government without royal sanction. Since Rhode Island
at that time did not have such sanction, his opinion was not popular.
Roger Williams wrote his friend Winthrop as follows: " Master
Gorton, having foully abused high and low at Aquidneck is now
bewitching and bemaddening poor Providence, both with his unclean and
foul censures of all the ministers of this country (for which myself
have in Christ's name withstood him), and also denying all visible
and external ordinances in depth of Familism: almost all suck in
his poison, as at first they did at Aquidneck. Some few and myself withstand
his inhabitation and town privileges, without confession and
reformation of his uncivil and inhuman practices at Portsmouth; yet
the tide is too strong against us, and I fear (if the framer of hearts
help not) it will force me to little Patience, a little isle next
to your Prudence". Williams also stated: "Our peace was like
the peace of a man who hath the tertian ague". Providence finally
managed to get Gorton out of the town, and he and some friends
bought land at Pawtuxet on the west side of Narragansett Bay, five
miles south but still within the jurisdiction of the Providence colony.
This town should not be confused with Pawtucket, just north of Providence,
or Pawcatuck, Connecticut, on the Pawcatuck River, opposite
Westerly, Rhode Island. Up to now, Gorton had been looking
for trouble, and now that he was trying to get away from it, trouble
started looking for him. Upon intelligence that the formidable
agitator was to favor them with his presence, the benighted inhabitants
of Pawtuxet, alas, gave their allegiance to Massachusetts and asked
that colony to expel the newcomers. As it was the custom of that alert
colony to take over the property of persons asking for protection,
this was an act roughly equivalent to throwing open the door to a pack
of wolves and saying "Come and get it". Gorton and company,
however, promptly bought land from Miantonomi a few miles south
of Pawtuxet, extending from the present Gaspee Point south to Warwick
Neck and twenty miles inland. The settlement was called Shawomet.
It was not within the jurisdiction of anybody or anything, including
Providence and Massachusetts. If Gorton wanted peace and quiet
for his complicated meditations this is where he should have had it. Instead
of that he was engulfed by bedlam. Pomham and Soconoco,
a couple of minor sachems (of something less than exalted character)
under Miantonomi, declared that they had never assented to the sale
of land to Gorton and had never received anything for it. Following
the glorious lead of the heroes of Pawtuxet, they also submitted themselves
to the protection of Massachusetts. One historical authority
presents laborious and circuitous testimony tending to arouse suspicion
that Massachusetts was behind the clouds settling down on the embattled
Gorton. However, the General Court at Boston ordered
the purchasers of Shawomet to appear before them to answer the sachems'
claim. The purchasers rejected the order in two letters written
in vigorous terms. Then Massachusetts switched to its standard tactics.
It pointed out twenty-six instances of blasphemy in the letters,
and ordered the writers to submit or force of arms would be used. The
next week, forty soldiers were sent to get the miscreants. The latter
tried to arbitrate through a delegation from Providence, which offer
was declined by the invaders. The Commissioners at Boston wrote
the victims to see their misdeeds and repent or they should "look upon
them as men prepared for slaughter". At Shawomet, women
and children fled in terror across the Bay. The men fortified a blockhouse
and got ready to fight, but meanwhile appealed to the King and
again tried to arbitrate. Gorton evidently still had plenty to learn
about Massachusetts, but he was learning fast. Governor Winthrop wrote:
" You may do well to take notice, that besides the title
to land between the English and the Indians there, there are twelve
of the English that have subscribed their names to horrible and detestable
blasphemies, who are rather to be judged as blasphemous than
they should delude us by winning time under pretence of arbitration".

The attack started on October 2, 1643, and the Gortonists held

out for a day and a night. The attackers sent for more soldiers, and
the defenders, to save bloodshed, surrendered under the promise that
they would be treated as neighbors. Promptly their livestock was taken
and according to Gorton the soldiers were ordered to knock down anyone
who should utter a word of insolence, and run through anyone who
might step out of line. When the captives arrived in Boston,
"the chaplain [of their captors] went to prayers in the open streets,
that the people might take notice what they had done in a holy manner,
and in the name of the Lord". Gorton and ten of his friends
were thrown in jail. On Sunday they refused to attend church.
The magistrates were determined to compel them. The prisoners agreed,
provided they might speak after the sermon, which was permitted. Here
was Gorton's chance to indulge in something at which he was supreme.
The Boston elders were great at befuddling the opposition with
torrents of ecclesiastical obscurities, but Gorton was better. Reverend
Cotton preached to them about Demetrius and the shrines of Ephesus.
Gorton replied with blasts that scandalized the congregation.

At the trial which took place later, the Pomham matter was completely
omitted. The Gortonists were charged with blasphemy and tried
for their lives. Four ecclesiastical questions were presented by the
General Court to Gorton: "_1._ Whether the Fathers, who
died before Christ was born of the Virgin Mary, were justified and
saved only by the blood which hee shed, and the death which hee suffered
after his incarnation? _2._ Whether the only price of our
redemption were not the death of Christ on the cross, with the rest
of his sufferings and obediences, in the time of his life here, after
hee was born of the Virgin Mary? _3._ Who was the God whom hee
thinke we serve? _4._ What hee means when hee saith, wee worship
the starre of our God Remphan, Chion, Moloch"? Gorton
answered in writing. All of the elders except three voted for death,
but a majority of the deputies refused to sanction the sentence.
Seven of the prisoners were sentenced to be confined in irons for as
long as it pleased the court, set to work and, if they broke jail or proclaimed
heresy, to be executed if convicted. The three others got off
easier. The convicts were put in chains, paraded before the congregation
at the Reverend Cotton's lecture as an example, and sent to
prisons in various towns, where they languished all winter, chains included.
When Fred wheeled him back into his room, the big one looking out on
the back porch, and put him to bed, Papa told him he was very tired
but that he had enjoyed greatly the trip downtown. "I've been cooped
up so long", he added. Getting out again, seeing old friends,
had given his spirits a lift. That night after supper I went
back over to 48 Spruce Street- Ralph and I at that time were living
at 168 Chestnut- and Ralph went with me. Papa was still elated
over his afternoon visit downtown. "Baby, I saw a lot of old friends
I hadn't seen in a long time", he told me, his eyes bright.
"It was mighty good for the old man to get out again". The
next day he seemed to be in fairly good shape and still in excellent
spirits. But a few days after Fred's return he began hemorrhaging
and that was the beginning of early and complete disintegration. It
began in the morning, and very quickly the hemorrhage was a massive one.
We got Dr& Glenn to him as quickly as we could, and we wired
Tom of Papa's desperate condition. The hemorrhage was in the prostate
region; Dr& Glenn saw at once what had happened. "He
has lost much blood", he said. "It'll take a lot to replace
it". "Dr& Glenn, I've got a lot of blood", Fred
spoke up, "plenty of it. Let me give Papa blood". The doctor
agreed, but explained that it would be necessary first to check Fred's
blood to ascertain whether or not it was of the same type as
Papa's. To give a patient the wrong type of blood, said the doctor,
would likely kill him. That was in the days before blood banks,
of course, and transfusions had to be given directly from donor to
patient. One had to find a donor, and usually very quickly, whose blood
corresponded with the patient's. And then it took considerably
longer to make preparations for giving transfusions. They had to take
blood samples to the laboratory to test them, for one thing, and there
was much required preliminary procedure. They made the tests
and came to Fred; by now it was perhaps two days or longer after Papa
had begun hemorrhaging. "Fred, your blood matches your
father's, all right", Dr& Glenn said. "But we aren't going
to let you give him any". "But why in the name of God can't
I give my father blood"? Fred demanded. "Why can't I,
Doctor"? "Because, Fred, it could do him no good. It's
too late now. He's past helping. He's as good as gone".

And in a few minutes Papa was dead. It was well past midnight.
Papa had left us about the same hour of the night that Ben had passed
on. The date was June 20, 1922. "W& O& Wolfe,
prominent business man and pioneer resident of this section, died shortly
after midnight Tuesday at his home 48 Spruce Street", the Asheville
<Times> of Wednesday, June 21, announced. "Mr& Wolfe
had been in declining health for many years and death was not unexpected".
A biographical sketch followed. Funeral services were
held Thursday afternoon at four o'clock at the home. Beloved Dr&
R& F& Campbell, our First Presbyterian Church pastor, was
in charge. The burial was out in Riverside Cemetery. All about him
stood tombstones his own sensitive great hands had fashioned.
A few years before his death Papa had agreed with Mama to make a
joint will with her in which it would be provided that in the event of
the
death of either of them an accounting would be made to their children
whereby each child would receive a bequest of $5000 cash. At his death
Fred and Ralph, my husband, were named executors of the estate under
the terms of the will. Fred and Ralph qualified as executors
and paid off what debts were currently due, and they were all current,
since Papa was never one to allow bills to go unpaid. The bills
were principally for hospitalization and doctors' fees during the
last years of his life, and when he died he owed in the main only current
doctor's bills. After they had paid all his debts and the funeral
costs, Ralph and Fred had some fourteen thousand dollars, as I remember,
with which to pay the bequests. This, manifestly, would not
provide $5000 to each of the surviving five children. So what
Fred and Ralph did was to attempt to prorate the money fairly by taking
into account what each of the five had received, if anything, from
the estate before Papa's death. Consequently, Fred and Tom, the
two who had been provided college educations, signed statements to the
effect that each had received his bequest in full, and Effie and I
were each allotted $5000. Frank had been given about half his legacy
to use in a business venture before Papa's death; he was given the
difference between that amount and $5000. Tom had received four years
of education at the University of North Carolina and two at Harvard,
and Fred had been in and out of Georgia Tech and Carneigie
Tech and part of the time had been a self-help student. So, because
he had received less than Tom, it was felt proper that Fred should receive
the few hundred dollars that remained. And that's how Papa's
estate was divided. Papa, I should emphasize, had been an
invalid the last several years of his life; his hospital and doctor
bills had been large and his income had been cut until he was receiving
little except
small rentals on some properties he still owned. Had
he been able to escape this long siege of invalidism, I'm convinced,
Papa would have left a sizable estate. But he had succeeded well,
we agreed.
He had left us a legacy far more valuable than houses and lands
and stocks and bonds. For years Papa and Mama had been large
taxpayers. I recall that several years their taxes exceeded $800.
In those years of lower property valuations and lower tax rates, that
payment represented ownership of much property. "Merciful God,
Julia"! I have known Papa to exclaim on getting his tax bill,
"we're going to the dogs"! But he never expected to
do that. And he didn't, by a long shot!

#35.#

In the spring
of his second year at Harvard, Tom had been offered a job at Northwestern
University as an instructor in the English Department. But
he had delayed accepting this job, and as he was leaving to come home
to Papa in response to our telegram, he dropped a postcard to Miss
McCrady, head of the Harvard Appointment Office, asking her please
to write Northwestern authorities and explain the circumstances.

Actually Tom had been postponing giving them an answer, I'm

confident, because he did not want to go out there to teach. In fact,
he didn't want to teach anywhere. He wanted to go back to Harvard
for another year of playwriting. But Papa's death had further complicated
the financing of Tom's hoped-for third year, and for the
weeks following it Tom did not know whether his return to Harvard could
be arranged. But things were worked out in the family and
late in August he wrote Miss McCrady an explanatory letter in which
he told her that matters at home had been in an unsettled condition
after Papa's death and he had not known whether he would stay at home
with Mama, accept the Northwestern job, or return to Harvard. But
he was happy to tell her that his finances were now in such condition
that he could go back to Harvard for a third year with Professor
Baker. And that's what he did. That third year he wrote plays
with a fury. I believe there are seventeen short plays by Tom now
housed in the Houghton Library at Harvard; I think I'm right
in that figure. That fall he submitted to Professor Baker the first
acts and outlines of the following acts of several plays, six of them,
according to some of his associates, and he also worked on a play
that he first called <Niggertown>, the material for which he had collected
during the summer at home. Later this play would be called <Welcome
to Our City>. In the spring, it must have been, he began
working on the play that he called <The House>, which later would
be <Mannerhouse>. That spring <Welcome to Our City> was selected
for production by the 47 Workshop and it was staged in the middle
of May. It ran two nights, and though it was generally praised, there
was considerable criticism of its length. It ran until past one o'clock.
That was Tom's weakness; it was demonstrated, many critics
would later point out, in the length of his novels. In this play
there were so many characters and so much detail. Tom never knew how
to condense, to boil down. He was always concerned with life, and he
tried to picture it whole; he wanted nothing compressed, tight. He
was a big man, and he wanted nothing little, squeezed; he despised parsimony,
and particularly of words. In this play there were some thirty
or more named characters and I don't know how many more unnamed.
In describing it to Professor Baker after it had been chosen for
production, he defended his great array of characters by declaring that
he had included that many not because "I didn't know how to save
paint", but because the play required them. And he threatened someday
to write a play "with fifty, eighty, a hundred people- a whole
town, a whole race, a whole epoch". He said he would do it, though
probably nobody would produce it, for his own "soul's ease and
comfort". That summer Tom attended the summer session at Harvard,
but he did not ask Mama to send him back in the fall. Instead,
he went down to New York and submitted <Welcome to Our City>
to the Theatre Guild, which had asked him to let them have a look at
it after Professor Baker had recommended it highly. He hung around
New York, waiting to hear whether they would accept it for production
and in that time came down to Asheville and also paid a short visit
to Chapel Hill, where with almost childish delight he visited old
friends and favorite campus spots. On returning to New York he had
a job for several weeks; it was visiting University of North Carolina
alumni in New York to ask them for contributions to the Graham
Memorial Building fund. The Graham Memorial would be the campus
student union honoring the late and much beloved Edward Kidder Graham,
who had been president when Tom entered the university. Well,
the Theatre Guild kept that play, and kept it, and finally in
December they turned it down. But they would reconsider it, they assured
him, if he would rewrite it. Tom told me about it, how one evening
he went over to see the Theatre Guild man. This man, Tom said,
had the play shut up in his desk, I believe, and when Tom sat down,
he pulled it out and apologetically told Tom that they wouldn't be
able to use it. Tom said he almost burst into tears, he was so
disappointed and put out. The man, Tom said, explained that it was
not only too long and detailed but that as it stood it wasn't the sort
of thing the public wanted. The public, Tom said the man told him,
wanted realism, and his play wasn't that. It was fantastic writing,
beautiful writing, the man declared, but the public, he insisted,
wanted realism. Tom was not willing to revise the play according
to the plan the man suggested. Such a revision, he said, would ruin
it, would change his whole conception of the play as well as the treatment.
He thought about it and he told the man he just couldn't do
it over in accordance with the suggestions he had made.
##

It was not until we had returned to the city to live, while I

was still at Brown and Sharpe's, that I felt the full impact of
evangelical Christianity. I came under the spell of a younger group
in the church led by the pastor's older son. The spirit of this group
was that we were- and are- living in a world doomed to eternal
punishment, but that God through Jesus Christ has provided a way of
escape for those who confess their sins and accept salvation.
There are millions who accept this doctrine, but few indeed are those
who accept it so truly that the fate of humanity lies as a weight on
their souls night and day. This group in Park Place Church was made
up of the earnest few. I was drawn deeper and deeper into these concerns
and responsibilities. I engaged more and more in religious activities.
Besides Church and Sunday School I went to out-of-door meetings
on the sidewalk at the church door. I went to an afternoon service
at the ~YMCA. I went to the Christian Endeavor Society
and to the evening service of the church. Much of this lacked the active
support of the pastor. The young people were self-energizing, and
I was energized. Once or twice my father asked me if I wasn't overdoing
a bit in my churchgoing. Meanwhile I myself was not yet
saved. At least I had been unable to lay hold on the experience of
conversion. Try as I might to confess my sins and accept salvation,
no answer came to me from heaven. Finally, after years, I gave up.

The basic difficulty, I suppose, was in my ultimate inability

to feel a burden of sin from which I sought relief. I was familiar
with <Pilgrim's Progress>, which I read as literature. No load
of sin had been laid on my shoulders, nor did earnest effort enable
me to become conscious of one. There is, of course, the doctrine
of original sin, which asserts that each of us as individuals partakes
of the guilt of our first ancestor. In the rhyming catechism this
doctrine is worded thus: "In Adam's fall We sin-ned all".

This doctrine was repugnant to my moral sense. I did not feel

it presumptuous to expect that the Creator would be at least as just
as the most righteous of His creatures; and the doctrine of original
sin is compounded of injustice. Some of these thoughts- not
all of them- have taken organized form in later years. The actual
impelling force which severed me from evangelical effort was of another
sort. I became disgusted at being so preoccupied with the state of
my own miserable soul. I found myself becoming one of that group of
people who, in Carlyle's words, "are forever gazing into their own
navels, anxiously asking 'Am I right, am I wrong'"? I bethought
me of the Lord's Prayer, and these words came to mind:
"Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven".
They have remained on the opened page of my mind in all the years
which since have passed. From that time to this my religious concern
is that I might give effective help to the bringing in of God's kingdom
on earth. I do not claim to be free from sin, or from the
need for repentance and forgiveness. In my experience the assurance
of forgiveness comes only when I have confessed to the wronged one and
have made as full reparation as I can devise. ##

There was one

further step in my religious progress. This was taken after I came
to live in Springfield, and it was made under the guidance of the Reverend
Raymond Beardslee, a young preacher who came to the Congregational
Church there at about the same time that I moved from New York.
His father was a professor at Hartford Theological Seminary,
and from him he acquired a conviction, which he passed along to me, that
there is in the universe of persons a moral law, the law of love,
which is a natural law in the same sense as is the physical law.

It is most important that we recognize the law of love as being unbreakable

in all personal relationships, whether individually, socially
or as between whole nations of people. If obeyed, the law brings order
and satisfaction. If disobeyed, the result is turmoil and chaos.

As we observe moral law and physical law they appear as being inevitable.
We can conceive of no alternatives. Their basis seems deeper
than mere authority. They are not true because scientists or prophets
say they are true. It is not the authority of God Himself which
makes them true. Because God is what He is, the laws of the universe,
material and spiritual, are what they are. Deity and Law are one
and inseparable. With this conviction, the partition between
the sacred and the secular disappears. One's daily work becomes sacred,
since it is performed in the field of influence of the moral law,
dealing as it does with people as well as with matter and energy.

In his book <Civilization and Ethics> Albert Schweitzer faces

the moral problems which arise when moral law is recognized in business
life, for example. His <Ethics> defines "possessions as the
property of the community, of which the individual is sovereign steward.
One serves society by conducting a business from which a certain
number of employees draw their means of subsistence; another by giving
away his property in order to help his fellow man. Each will decide
on his own course somewhere between these two extreme cases according
to the sense of responsibility which is determined for him by the particular
circumstances of his own life. No one is to judge others".

He is uncompromising in assigning guilt to the man who finds

it necessary to inflict or permit injury to one individual or group for
the sake of a larger good. For this decision a man must take personal
responsibility. Says he, "I may never imagine that in the struggle
between personal and supra-personal responsibility it is possible
to make a compromise between the ethical and the purposive in the shape
of a relative ethic; or to let the ethical be superseded by the purposive.
On the contrary it is my duty to make my own decision as between
the two". Schweitzer seems, in fact, to acquire for himself
a burden of sin, not bequeathed by Adam, but accumulated in the
inevitable judgments which life requires of him as between greater and
lesser responsibilities. This viewpoint I find interesting, but it
has never weighed on my soul. Perhaps it should have. My own experience
has followed simpler lines. An uncompromising belief in the
moral law has the advantage of making religion natural, even as physical
law is natural. Neither the engineer nor the ordinary citizen feels
any self-consciousness in obeying the laws of matter and energy,
nor can he achieve a sense of self-righteousness in such obedience. To
obey the moral law is just ordinary common sense, applied to a neglected
field. Religion thus becomes integrated with life. This
truth that the moral law is natural has other important corollaries. One
of them is that it gives meaning and purpose to life. In seeking
for such meaning and purpose, Albert Schweitzer seized upon the concept
of the "sacredness of life". It is puzzling to the occidental
mind (to mine at least) to assign "sacredness" to animal, insect,
and plant life. These lives are in themselves outside of the moral order
and are unburdened with moral responsibility. There is indeed a
moral responsibility on man himself, for his own soul's sake, to respect
lower life and to avoid the infliction of suffering, but this viewpoint
Schweitzer rejects. So far as "sacredness" inheres
in any aspect of creation it seems to me to be found in human personality,
whether in Lambarene, Africa, or in Washington, D&C&. One
cannot read the records of scientists, officials and travelers who
have penetrated to the minds of the most savage races without realizing
that each individual met with is a <person>. Read, for instance,
in
Malcolm MacDonald's <Borneo People> of Segura and her wise
father Tomonggong Koh, and her final adjustment to encroaching civilization.
Above all read in Jens Bjerre's <The Last Cannibals>
how the old man of the Wailbri tribe (not cannibals) in central Australia
gave to the white man his choicest possession, while the tears
streamed down his face. The Australian aborigine is the conventional
exemplar of degraded humanity; yet here was a depth of sensibility
which is lacking in a considerable portion of the beneficiaries of our
civilization. Persons, whether white, black, brown or yellow,
are a concern of God. Respect for personality is a privilege and a
duty for us as brothers. Such is the field for exercising our
reverence. As to our action, let us align ourselves with the purpose
expressed by Jesus in the Lord's Prayer: "Thy kingdom come,
Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven". With the knowledge
that the kingdom comes by obedience to the moral law in our relations
with all people, we have a firm intellectual grasp on both the means
and the ends of our lives. This intellectual approach to spiritual
life suited me well, because I was never content to lead a divided
life. As I have said, words from Tennyson remain ever in my memory:
"That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as
before". Let us now give some thought to the soul. When the
young biologist, Dr& Ballard, began to show interest in our daughter
Elizabeth, this induced a corresponding interest, on our part, in
him. I asked one day what he was doing. He told me that he had a big
newt and a little newt and that he was transplanting a big eye of the
big newt onto the little newt and a little eye of the little newt onto
the big newt. He was then noting that the big eye on the little newt
hung back until the little eye had grown up to it, while the little
eye on the big newt grew rapidly until it was as big as the other. Then
I asked, "What does that teach you"? Said he, "It teaches
me to wonder". This was a profound statement. In the face
of the unfolding universe, our ultimate attitude is that of wonder.
Wonder is indeed the intellectual gateway to the spiritual world.

Gone are the days when, in the nineteenth century, scientists thought
that they were close to the attainment of complete knowledge of
the physical universe. For them only a little more needed to be learned,
and then all physical knowledge could be neatly sorted, packaged
and put in the inventory to be drawn on for the solution of any human
problem. This complacency was blown to bits by the relativity
of Einstein, the revelation of the complex anatomy of the atom and the
discovery of the expanding universe. None of these discoveries were
neatly rounded off bits of knowledge. Each faded out into the unexplored
areas of the future. It is as if we, in our center of human
observation, from time to time penetrate more deeply into the unknown.
As our radius of penetration, ~R, increases, the area of new
knowledge
increases by **f, and the total of human knowledge becomes measured
in terms of **f. Wonder grows. It is endless. There are
some people, intelligent people, who seem to be untouched by the sea
of wonder in which we are immersed and in which we spend our lives. One
such is Abraham Meyer, the writer of a recent book, <Speaking of
Man>. This is a straightforward denial of the spiritual world and
a vigorous defense of pure materialism. His inability to wonder vitiates
his argument. The subject of immortality brings to mind a
vivid incident which took place in 1929 at Montreux in Switzerland.

Criticism is as old as literary art and we can set the stage for
our study of three moderns if we see how certain critics in the past
have dealt with the ethical aspects of literature. I have chosen five
contrasting pairs, ten men in all, and they are arranged in roughly
chronological order. Such a list must naturally be selective, and the
treatment of each man is brief, for I am interested only in their general
ideas on the moral measure of literature. Altogether, the list
will give us considerable variety in attitudes and some typical ones,
for these critics range all the way from censors to those who consider
art above ethics, all the way from Plato to Poe. And most of the
great periods are represented, because we will compare Plato and Aristotle
from the golden age of Greece; Stephen Gosson and Sir Philip
Sidney from renaissance England; Dr& Johnson and William
Hazlitt of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries in England;
and James Russell Lowell and Edgar Allan Poe of nineteenth
century American letters.

#PLATO AND ARISTOTLE#

Plato and Aristotle

agree on some vital literary issues. They both measure literature
by moral standards, and in their political writings both allow for
censorship, but the differences between them are also significant. While
Aristotle censors literature only for the young, Plato would banish
all poets from his ideal state. Even more important, in his <Poetics,>
Aristotle differs somewhat from Plato when he moves in the
direction of treating literature as a unique thing, separate and apart
from its causes and its effects. All through <The Republic,>
Plato attends to the way art relates to the general life and ultimately
to a good life for his citizens. In short, he is constantly concerned
with the ethical effects. When he discusses the subject matter
of poetry, he asks what moral effect the scenes will have. When he
turns briefly to literary style, in the Third Book, he again looks to
the effect on the audience. He explains that his citizens must not
be corrupted by any of the misrepresentations of the gods or heroes that
one finds in much poetry, and he observes that all "these pantomimic
gentlemen" will be sent to another state. Only those story tellers
will remain who can "imitate the style of the virtuous".

Plato is, at times, just as suspicious of the poets themselves as he

is of their work. When he discusses tyrants in the Eighth Book of
<The Republic,> he pictures the poets as willing to praise the worst
rulers. But the most fundamental objection he has to poets appears
in the Tenth Book, and it is derived from his doctrine of ideal forms.
In Plato's mind there is an irresolvable conflict between the
poet and the philosopher, because the poet imitates only particular objects
and is incapable of rising to the first level of abstraction, much
less the highest level of ideal forms. True reality, of course, is
the ideal, and the poet knows nothing of this; only the philosopher
knows the truth. Poets, moreover, dwell on human passions. And
with this point about the passions, we encounter Plato's dualism.
The same sort of thinking plays so large a part in both Babbitt and
More, that we must examine it in some detail. Plato feels that man
has two competing aspects, his rational faculty and his irrational.
We can be virtuous only if we control our lower natures, the passions
in this case, and strengthen our rational side; and poetry, with all
its emphasis on the passions, encourages the audience to give way to
emotion. For this reason, then, poetry tends to weaken the power of
control, the reason, because it tempts one to indulge his passions, and
even the best of men, he maintains, may be corrupted by this subtle
influence. Plato's attitude toward poetry has always been something
of an enigma, because he is so completely sensitive to its charm.
His whole objection, indeed, seems to rise out of a deep conviction
that the poets <do> have great power to influence, but Plato seldom
pays any attention to what might be called the poem itself. He is,
rather, concerned with the effect on society and he wants the poets
to join his fight for justice. He wants them to use their great power
to strengthen man's rational side, to teach virtue, and to encourage
religion. While Plato finally allows a few acceptable hymns
to the gods and famous men, still he clearly leaves the way open for
further discussion of the issue. He even calls upon the poets to defend
the Muse and to show that poetry may contribute to virtue. He says:
" We
may further grant to those of her [Poetry's] defenders
who are lovers of poetry and yet not poets, the permission to
speak in prose on her behalf: let them show not only that she is pleasant
but also useful to States and to human life, and we will listen
in a kindly spirit; for if this can be proved we shall surely be the
gainers- I mean, if there is a use in poetry as well as a delight".

When we turn to Aristotle's ideas on the moral measure

of literature, it is at once apparent that he is at times equally concerned
about the influence of the art. In the ideal state, for instance,
he argues that the young citizens should hear only the most carefully
selected tales and stories. For this reason, he would banish indecent
pictures and speeches from the stage; and the young people should
not even be permitted to see comedies till they are old enough to
drink strong wine and sit at the public tables. By the time they reach
that age, however, Aristotle no longer worries about the evil influence
of comedies. In Aristotle's analysis of tragedy in the
<Poetics,> we find an attempt to isolate the art, to consider only
those things proper to it, to discover how it differs from other arts,
and to deal with the effects peculiar to it. He assures us, early
in the <Poetics,> that all art is "imitation" and that all imitation
gives pleasure, but he distinguishes between art in general and
poetic art on the basis of the means, manner, and the objects of the
imitation. Once the poetic arts are separated from the other forms,
he lays down his famous definition of tragedy, which sets up standards
and so lends direction to the remainder of the work. A tragedy, by
his definition, is an imitation of an action that is serious, of a certain
magnitude, and complete in itself. It should have a dramatic form
with pleasing language, and it should portray incidents which so arouse
pity and fear that it purges these emotions in the audience. Any
tragedy, he maintains, has six elements: plot, character, and thought
(the objects of imitation), diction and melody (the means of imitation),
and spectacle (the manner of imitation). Throughout the rest of
the <Poetics,> Aristotle continues to discuss the characteristics
of these six
parts and their interrelationship, and he refers frequently to the
standards suggested by his definition of tragedy. Aristotle's
method in the <Poetics,> then, does suggest that we should isolate
the work. The Chicago contingent of modern critics follow Aristotle
so far in this direction that it is hard to see how they can compare
one poem with another for the purpose of evaluation. But there are,
however, several features of Aristotle's approach which open the
way for the moral measure of literature. For one thing, Aristotle mentions
that plays may corrupt the audience. In addition, his definition
of a tragedy invites our attention, because a serious and important
action may very well be one that tests the moral fiber of the author
or of the characters. And there is one other point in the poetics that
invites moral evaluation: Aristotle's notion that the distinctive
function of tragedy is to purge one's emotions by arousing pity
and fear. He rejects certain plots because they do not contribute to
that end. The point is that an ethical critic, with an assist from Freud,
can seize on this theory to argue that tragedy provides us with
a harmless outlet for our hostile urges. In his study <Samuel Johnson,>
Joseph Wood Krutch takes this line when he says that what Aristotle
really means by his theory of catharsis is that our evil passions
may be so purged by the dramatic ritual that it is "less likely
that we shall indulge them through our own acts". In Krutch's view,
this is one way to show how literature may be moral in effect without
employing the explicit methods of a moralist. And we can add that
Krutch's interpretation of purgation is also one answer to Plato's
fear that poetry will encourage our passions. If Krutch is correct,
tragedy may have quite the opposite effect. It may allay our passions
and so restore the rule of reason. Or in more Freudian terms,
the experience may serve to sublimate our destructive urges and strengthen
the ego and superego.

#GOSSON AND SIDNEY#

The second half of

the sixteenth century in England was the setting for a violent and long
controversy over the moral quality of renaissance literature, especially
the drama. No one suggested that the ethical effects of the art
were irrelevant. Both sides agreed that the theater must stand a moral
test, but they could not agree on whether the poets were a good or
a bad influence. Both sides claimed that Plato and Aristotle supported
their cause. Those who wanted to close the theaters, for example,
pointed to Plato's <Republic> and those who wished to keep them
open called on the Plato of the <Ion> to testify in their behalf.

The most famous document that comes out of this dispute is perhaps
Sir Philip Sidney's <An Apologie for Poetrie,> published
in 1595. Many students of literature know that classical defense.
What is not so well known, however, and what is quite important for
understanding the issues of this early quarrel, is the kind of attack
on literature that Sidney was answering. For this reason, then I want
to describe, first, two examples of the puritanical attacks: Stephen
Gosson's <The School of Abuse,> 1579, and his later <Playes
Confuted,> published in 1582. Second, we will see how Sidney
answered the charges, for while Sidney's essay was not specifically
a reply to Gosson, his arguments do support the new theater.
According to William Ringler's study, <Stephen Gosson,> the theater
business in London had become a thriving enterprise by 1577, and,
in the opinion of many, a thoroughly bad business. Aroused by what
they considered an evil influence, some members of the clergy, joined
by city authorities, merchants, and master craftsmen, began the attack
on the plays and the actors for what they called "the abuses of the
art", but by 1582 some of them began to denounce the whole idea of
acting. Although this kind of wholesale objection came at first from
some men who were not technically Puritans, still, once the Puritans
gained power, they climaxed the affair by passing the infamous ordinance
of 1642 which decreed that all "public stage-plays shall cease
and be forborne". With that act of Parliament the opponents of the
stage won the day, and for more than two decades after that England
had no legitimate public drama. In the early days of this controversy
over the theater one of the interested parties, Stephen Gosson,
published a little tract in which he objected mildly to the abuses
of art, rather than the art itself. But his opposition hardened and
by 1579, in <The School of Abuse,> he was ready to banish all "players".
He advises women to beware "of those places which in sorrows
cheere you and beguile you in mirth". He does not really approve
of levity and laughter, but sex is the deadly sin. He warns that
a single glance can lead us into temptation, for "Looking eies have
lyking hartes, and lyking hartes may burne in lust".

But it would not be very satisfactory to leave our conclusions

at the point just reached. fortunately, it is possible to be somewhat
more concrete and factual in diagnosing the involvement of values in
education. For this purpose we now draw upon data from sociological and
psychological studies of students in American colleges and universities,
and particularly from the Cornell Values Studies. In the latter
research program,
information is available for 2,758 Cornell students
surveyed in 1950 and for 1,571 students surveyed in 1952. Of the
latter sample, 944 persons had been studied two years earlier; hence
<changes> in attitudes and values can be analyzed for identical individuals
at two points in time. In addition, the 1952 study collected
comparable data from 4,585 students at ten other colleges and universities
scattered across the country: Dartmouth, Harvard, Yale, Wesleyan,
North Carolina, Fisk, Texas, University of California at
Los Angeles, Wayne, and Michigan. We find, in the first
place, that <the students overwhelmingly approve of higher education>,
positively evaluate the job their own institution is doing, do not
accept most of the criticisms levelled against higher education in the
public prints, and, on the whole, approve of the way their university
deals with value-problems and value inculcation. It is not our impression
that these evaluations are naively uncritical resultants of blissful
ignorance; rather, the generality of these students find their
university experience congenial to their own sense of values. <Students
are approximately equally divided between those who regard
vocational preparation as the primary goal of an ideal education and those
who chose a general liberal education>. Other conceivable goals,
such as character-education and social adjustment, are of secondary
importance to them. <The ideal of a liberal education impresses itself
upon the students more and more as they move through college>. Even
in such technical curricula as engineering, the senior is much more
likely than the freshman to choose, as an ideal, liberal education over
specific vocational preparation. In the university milieu of scholarship
and research, of social diversity, of new ideas and varied and
wide-ranging interests, "socialization" into a campus culture apparently
means heightened appreciation of the idea of a liberal education
in the arts and sciences. Students' <choices> of ideal
educational goals <are not arbitrary or whimsical>. There is a clear
relationship between their educational evaluations and their basic
pattern of general values. The selective and directional qualities of
basic value-orientations are clearly evident in these data: the
"success-oriented"
students choose vocational preparation, the "other-directed"
choose goals of social adjustment ("getting along with
people"), the "intellectuals" choose a liberal arts emphasis.

The same patterned consistency shows itself in occupational choices.

There is <impressive consistency between specific occupational
preferences and the student's basic conception of what is for him a
good way of life>. And, contrary to many popular assertions, the <goal-values
chosen do not seem to us to be primarily oriented to materialistic
success nor to mere conformity>. Our students want occupations
that permit them to use their talents and training, to be creative
and original, to work with and to help other people. They also want
money, prestige, and security. But they are <optimistic about their
prospects> in these regards; they set <limits to their aspirations>-
few aspire to millions of dollars or to "imperial" power and
glory. Within the fixed frame of these aspirations, they can afford
to place a high value on the expressive and people-oriented aspects of
occupation and to minimize the instrumental-reward values of power,
prestige, and wealth. Occupational choices are also useful-
and interesting- in bringing out clearly that values do not constitute
the only component in goals and aspirations. For there is also the
"face of reality" in the form of the individual's perceptions
of
his own abilities and interests, of the objective possibilities open
to him, of the familial and other social pressures to which he is exposed.
We find "reluctant recruits" whose values are not in line with
their expected occupation's characteristics. Students develop occupational
images- not always accurate or detailed- and they try to
fit their values to the presumed characteristics of the imagined occupation.
The purely cognitive or informational problems are often acute.
Furthermore, many reluctant recruits are yielding to social demands,
or compromising in the face of their own limitations of opportunity,
or of ability and performance. Thus, many a creativity-oriented aspirant
for a career in architecture, drama, or journalism, resigns himself
to a real estate business; many a people-oriented student who dreams
of the M&D& decides to enter his father's advertising agency;
and many a hopeful incipient business executive decides it were
better to teach the theory of business administration than to practice
it. The old ideal of the independent entrepreneur is extant- but
so is the recognition that the main chance may be in a corporate bureaucracy.

In their views on dating, courtship, sex, and family

life, our students prefer what they are expected to prefer. For them,
in the grim words of a once-popular song, love and marriage go together
like a horse and carriage. Their expressed standards concerning
sex roles, desirable age for marriage, characteristics of an ideal mate,
number of children desired are congruent with the values and stereotypes
of the preceding generation- minus compulsive rebellion. They
even accept the "double standard" of sex morality in a double sense,
i&e&, both sexes agree that standards for men differ from standards
for women, and women apply to both sexes a standard different from
that held by men. "Conservatism" and "traditionalism"
seem implied by what has just been said. But these terms are treacherous.
<In the field of political values, it is certainly true that
students are not radical, not rebels against their parents or their peers>.
And as they go through college, the students tend to bring their
political position in line with that prevalent in the social groups
to which they belong. Yet they have accepted most of the extant "welfare
state" provisions for health, security, and the regulation of
economic affairs, and they overwhelmingly approve of the traditional
"liberalism" of the Bill of Rights. When their faith in civil
liberties is tested against strong pressures of social expediency in specific
issues, e&g&, suppression of "dangerous ideas", many waver
and give in. The students who are most willing to acquiesce in the
suppression of civil liberties are also those who are most likely to
be prejudiced against minority groups, to be conformist and traditionalistic
in general social attitudes, and to lack a basic faith in people.

As one looks at the existing evidence, one finds a correlation,

although only a slight one, between high grades and "libertarian"
values. But the correlation is substantial only among upperclassmen.
In other words, as students go through college, those who are
most successful academically tend to become more committed to a "Bill
of Rights" orientation. College in gross- just the general experience-
may have varying effects, but the <the students who are successful
emerge with strengthened and clarified democratic values>.
This finding is consistent also with the fact that student leaders are
more likely to be supporters of the values implicit in civil liberties
than the other students. There is now substantial evidence
from several major studies of college students that <the experience of
the college years results in a certain, selective homogenization of
attitudes and values>. Detached from their prior statuses and social
groups and exposed to the pervasive stimuli of the university milieu,
the students tend to assimilate a new common <culture>, to converge
toward norms characteristic of their own particular campus. Furthermore,
in certain respects, there are norms common to colleges and universities
across the country. For instance, college-educated people consistently
show up in study after study as more often than others supporters
of the Bill of Rights and other democratic rights and liberties.
The interesting thing in this connection is that the norms upon which
students tend to converge include toleration of diversity.
To the extent that our sampling of the orientations of American college
students in the years 1950 and 1952 may be representative of our
culture- and still valid in 1959- <we are disposed to question the
summary characterization of the current generation as silent, beat,
apathetic>, or as a mass of other-directed conformists who are guided
solely by social radar without benefit of inner gyroscopes. Our data
indicate that these students of today do basically accept the existing
institutions of the society, and, in the face of the realities of complex
and large-scale economic and political problems, make a wary and
ambivalent delegation of trust to those who occupy positions of legitimized
responsibility for coping with such collective concerns. <In
a real sense they are admittedly conservative>, but their conservatism
incorporates a traditionalized embodiment of the original "radicalism"
of 1776. Although we have no measures of its strength or intensity,
the heritage of the doctrine of inalienable rights is retained.
As they move through the college years our young men and women are "socialized"
into a broadly similar culture, at the level of personal
behavior. In this sense also, they are surely conformists. It is
even true that some among them use the sheer fact of conformity- "everyone
does it"- as a criterion for conduct. But the extent of
ethical robotism is easily overestimated. Few students are really so
faceless in the not-so-lonely crowd of the swelling population in our
institutions of higher learning. And it may be well to recall that to
say
"conformity" is, in part, another way of saying "orderly human
society". In the field of religious beliefs and values, the
college students seem to faithfully reflect the surrounding culture.
Their commitments are, for the most part, couched in a familiar idiom.
<Students testify to a felt need for a religious faith or ultimate
personal philosophy. Avowed atheists or freethinkers are so rare as
to be a curiosity>. The religious quest is often intense and deep,
and there are students on every campus who are seriously wrestling with
the most profound questions of meaning and value. At the same time,
a major proportion of these young men and women see religion as a means
of personal adjustment, an anchor for family life, a source of emotional
security. These personal and social goals often overshadow the
goals of intellectual clarity, and spiritual transcendence. The "cult
of adjustment" does exist. It exists alongside the acceptance of
traditional forms of organized religion (church, ordained personnel,
ritual, dogma). Still another segment of the student population consists
of those who seek, in what they regard as religion, intellectual clarity,
rational belief, and ethical guidance and reinforcement.

Our first impression of the data was that the students were surprisingly
orthodox and religiously involved. Upon second thought we were
forced to realize that we have very few reliable historical benchmarks
against which we might compare the present situation, and that conclusions
that present-day students are "more" or "less" religious
could not be defended on the basis of our data. As we looked more intently
at the content of our belief and the extent of religious participation,
we received the impression that many of the religious convictions
expressed represented a conventional acceptance, of low intensity.
But, here again, comparative benchmarks are lacking, and we do not
know, in any case, what measure of profoundity and intensity to expect
from healthy, young, secure and relatively inexperienced persons;
after all, feelings of immortality and invulnerability are standard illusions
of youth. Nor are optimistic and socially-oriented themes at
all rare in the distinctive religious history of this country.
Kluckhohn recently has summarized evidence regarding changes in values
during a period of years, primarily 1935-1955, but extending much farther
back in some instances. A variety of data are assembled to bear
upon such alleged changes as diminished puritan morality, work-success
ethic, individualism, achievement, lessened emphasis on future-time
orientation in favor of sociability, moral relativism, consideration and
tolerance, conformity, hedonistic present-time orientation. Although
he questions the extent and nature of the alleged revival of religion
and the alleged increase in conformity, and thinks that "hedonistic"
present-time orientation does not have the meaning usually attributed
to it, he does conclude that Americans increasingly enjoy leisure
without guilt, do not stress achievement so much as formerly, are more
accepting of group harmony as a goal, more tolerant of diversity and
aware of other cultures.

From New Jersey, Morgan hastened to the headquarters of Washington

at Whitemarsh, Pennsylvania, arriving there on November 18th.
There was much sickness in the corps, and the men were, in addition,
without the clothing, shoes, and blankets needed for the winter weather.
Morgan himself had sciatica again. Even on his tough constitution,
the exposure and strenuous activity were beginning to tell in earnest.

On the morning of November 17th, Cornwallis and 2,000

men had left Philadelphia with the object of capturing Fort Mercer
at Red Bank, New Jersey. In order to prevent this, Washington hastened
to dispatch several units to reinforce the fort, including a force
under the Marquis de Lafayette containing some 160 of Morgan's
riflemen, all who were fit for duty at this time, the rest having no shoes.
Although the fort was evacuated in the face of the force of Cornwallis,
Morgan and his men did have a chance to take another swing
at the redcoats. A picket guard of about 350, mostly Hessians, were
attacked by the Americans under Lafayette, and driven back to their
camp, some twenty to thirty of them falling before the riflemen's fire.

"I never saw men", Lafayette declared in regard to the

riflemen, "so merry, so spirited, and so desirous to go on to the
enemy, whatever force they might have, as that small party in this fight".
Nathanael Greene told Washington that "Lafayette was charmed
with the spirited behavior of the militia and riflemen".
A few days later it was learned that General Howe was planning an
attack upon the American camp. The British general moved his forces
north from Philadelphia to Chestnut Hill, near the right wing of
the patriot encampment. Here the Pennsylvania militia skirmished with
the British, but soon fled. Morgan was ordered to attack the enemy,
who had meantime moved to Edge Hill on the left of the Americans.
Similar orders were given to the Maryland militia. Morgan immediately
disposed his troops for action and found he had not long to wait.
A body of redcoats were seen marching down a nearby slope, a tempting
target for the riflemen, who threw a volley into their ranks and "messed
up" the smart formation considerably. Now the riflemen and the
Marylanders followed up their beginning and closed in on the British,
giving them another telling round of fire. The redcoats ran like
rabbits. But the Maryland militia had likewise fled, all too typical
of this type of soldier during the Revolution, an experience which gave
Morgan little confidence in militia in general, as he watched other
instances of their breaking in hot engagements. The British, although
suffering considerable losses, noted the defection of the Marylanders,
made a stand, then turned and attacked Morgan who became greatly
outnumbered and had to retire. The Americans lost forty-four
men, among them Major Joseph Morris of Morgan's regiment, an
officer who was regarded with high esteem and affection, not only by his
commander, but by Washington and Lafayette as well. The latter was
so upset on learning of the death of Morris, that he wrote Morgan
a letter, showing his own warmhearted generosity. After complimenting
Morgan and the riflemen and saying he was praising them to Congress,
too, the ardent Frenchman added he felt that Congress should make
some financial restitution to the widow and family of Morris, but that
he
knew Morgan realized how long such action usually required, if it was
done at all. "As Mrs& Morris may be in some want before that
time", Lafayette continued, "I am going to trouble you with a commission
which I beg you will execute with the greatest secrecy. If
she wanted to borrow any sum of money in expecting the arrangements of
Congress, it would not become a stranger, unknown to her, to offer himself
for that purpose. But you could (as from yourself) tell her that
you had friends who, being with the army, don't know what to do with
their money and **h would willingly let her have one or many thousand
dollars". This was accordingly done, and the plight of the grateful
Mrs& Morris was much relieved as a result of the generous loan,
the amount of which is not known. Apparently still sensitive
about the idea with which General Gates had approached him at Saratoga,
namely, that George Washington be replaced, Morgan was vehement
in his support of the commander-in-chief during the campaign around
Philadelphia. Richard Peters, Secretary of the Board of War, thought
Morgan was so extreme on the subject that he accused him of trying
to pick a quarrel. Morgan hotly denied this and informed the Board
of War that the men in camp linked the name of Peters with the plot
against Washington. Peters insisted that this impression was a great
misunderstanding, and evidently, from the quarrel, obtained an unfavorable
impression of Morgan's judgment. Such a situation regarding
the Board of War could hardly have helped Morgan's chances for
promotion when that matter came before the group later on. In
late December, the American army moved from Whitemarsh to Valley
Forge, and although the distance was only 13 miles, the journey took
more than a week because of the bad weather, the barefooted and almost
naked men. The position of the new camp was admirably selected and
well fortified, its easily defensible nature being one good reason why
Howe did not attack it. Besides helping to prevent the movement of
the British to the west, Valley Forge also obstructed the trade between
Howe's forces and the farmers, thus threatening the vital subsistence
of the redcoats and rendering their foraging to obtain necessary
supplies extremely hazardous. In order to see that this hindering
situation remained effective, Washington detached several bodies of his
troops to the periphery of the Philadelphia area. Morgan and
his corps were placed on the west side of the Schuylkill River, with
instructions to intercept all supplies found going to the city and
to keep a close eye on the movements of the enemy. The headquarters
of Morgan was on a farm, said to have been particularly well located
so as to prevent the farmers nearby from trading with the British, a
practice all too common to those who preferred to sell their produce for
British gold rather than the virtually worthless Continental currency.
In his dealings with offenders, however, Morgan was typically
firm but just. For example, he captured some persons from York County,
who with teams were taking to Philadelphia the furniture of a man
who had just been released from prison through the efforts of his wife,
and who apparently was helpless to prevent the theft of his household
goods. Morgan took charge of the furniture and restored it to its
thankful owners, but he let the culprits who had stolen it go free.

Morgan complained to Washington about the men detailed to him

for scouting duty, most of them he said being useless. "They straggle
at such a rate", he told the commander-in-chief, "that if the
enemy were enterprising, they might get two from us, when we would take
one of them, which makes me wish General Howe would go on, lest any
incident happen to us". If the hardships of the winter at
Valley Forge were trying for healthy men, they were, of course, much
more so for those not in good health. Daniel Morgan's rheumatic condition
worsened with the increase of the cold and damp weather. He
had braved the elements and the enemy, but the strain, aided by the winter,
was catching up with him at last. Also, he was now forty-three
years old. The mild activity of his command during the sojourn of the
troops at Valley Forge could be handled by a subordinate, he felt,
so like Henry Knox, equally loyal to Washington, who went to Boston
at this time, Morgan received permission to visit his home in Virginia
for several weeks. In his absence, the rifle regiment was under
the command of Major Thomas Posey, another able Virginian.
But Morgan did not leave before he had written a letter to a William
Pickman in Salem, Massachusetts, apparently an acquaintance, praising
Washington and saying that the slanders propagated about him were
"opposed by the general current of the people **h to exalt General
Gates at the expense of General Washington was injurious to the latter.
If there be a disinterested patriot in America, 'tis General
Washington, and his bravery, none can question". It is doubtful
if Morgan was able to take home much money to his wife and children,
for his pay, as shown by the War Department Abstracts of early
1778 was $75 a month as a colonel, and that apt to be delayed. He
was shown a warm welcome regardless, and spent the time in Winchester
recuperating from his ailment, enjoying his family and arranging his
private affairs which were, of course, run down. His neighbors celebrated
his return, even if it was only temporary, and Morgan was especially
gratified by the quaint expression of an elderly friend, Isaac
Lane, who told him, "A man that has so often left all that is dear
to him, as thou hast, to serve thy country, must create a sympathetic
feeling in every patriotic heart". There must have been special
feelings of joy and patriotism in the heart of Daniel Morgan too,
when the news was received on April 30th of the recognition by France
of the independence of the United States. His fellow Virginian,
George Washington, had stated, "I believe no event was ever received
with more heartfelt joy". The dreary camp at Valley Forge
was turned into an arena of rejoicing. Even the dignified Washington
indulged in a game of wickets with some children. His soldiers on the
whole did not celebrate so mildly. On May 6th, Morgan, who had returned,
received from Washington orders to "send out patrols under
vigilant officers" to keep near the enemy. "The reason for this",
the orders said, "is that the enemy may think to take advantage of
the celebration of this day. The troops must have more than the common
quantity of liquor, and perhaps there will be some little drunkenness
among them". Apparently no serious disorders resulted from
the celebration, and within a few days, Morgan joined the force of
Lafayette who now had command of some 2,000 men at Barren Hill, not
far above Philadelphia on the Schuylkill. The Frenchman had been
ordered to approach the enemy's lines, harass them and get intelligence
of their movements. Interestingly enough, the order transmitted
to Morgan through Alexander Hamilton also informed him that "A party
of Indians will join the party to be sent from your command at Whitemarsh,
and act with them". These were Oneida Indians.
Washington evidently was anxious for Morgan to be cautious as well
as aggressive, for on May 17th, 18th and 20th he admonished the leader
of the riflemen-rangers to be on the alert. Obviously the commander-in-chief
had confidence that Morgan would furnish him good intelligence
too, for on the 23rd of May, he told Morgan that the British were
prepared to move, perhaps in the night, and asked Morgan to have two
of his best horses ready to dispatch to General Smallwood with the
intelligence obtained. Meantime, however, this same General Smallwood
seemed to be serving chivalry as well as the American army. Colonel
Benjamin Ford wrote to Morgan from Wilmington that he understood
a Mrs& Sanderson from Maryland had obtained permission from Smallwood
to visit Philadelphia, and would return on May 26th, escorted
by several officers from Maryland "belonging to the new levies
in the British service". Ford urged Morgan to capture these men,
who, he thought, might be disguised as Quakers or peasants. Morgan took
the suggested steps, but when Mrs& Sanderson appeared, there was
nobody with her but her husband, whom he promptly sent to headquarters
to be questioned. But Morgan evidently reported matters of intelligence
much more important to his commanding general. A letter of a
few days later from Washington's aide to Morgan stated, "His Excellency
is highly pleased with your conduct upon this occasion".
For by now the original cause of the quarrel, Philip's seizure of
Gascony, was only one strand in the spider web of French interests that
overlay all western Europe and that had been so well and closely
spun that the lightest movement could set it trembling from one end to
the other. Even so, Edward's ambassadors can scarcely have foreseen
that five years of unremitting work lay ahead of them before peace
was finally made and that when it did come the countless embassies that
left England for Rome during that period had very little to do with
it. It is hard not to lay most of the blame for their failures
on the pope. Nogaret is hardly an impartial witness, and even he
did
not make his charges against Boniface until the latter was dead, but
there is some truth in what he said and more in what he did not say.
It was not merely a hunger for "money, gold and precious objects"
that delayed the papal pronouncement that could have brought the war
to an end; the pope was playing a dangerous game, with so many balls
in the air at once that a misstep would bring them all about his ears,
and his only hope was to temporize so that he could take advantage
of every change in the delicate balance of European affairs. When the
negotiations began, his quarrel with the king of France was temporarily
in abeyance, and he had no intention of reviving it so long as there
was hope that French money would come to pay the troops who, under
Charles of Valois,
the papal vicar of Tuscany, were so valuable in
the crusade against the Colonna cardinals and their Sicilian allies.
If his circumspection in regard to Philip's sensibilities went so
far that he even refused to grant a dispensation for the marriage of
Amadee's daughter, Agnes, to the son of the dauphin of Vienne-
a truly peacemaking move according to thirteenth-century ideas, for Savoy
and Dauphine were as usual fighting on opposite sides- for fear
that he might seem to be favoring the anti-French coalition, he would
certainly never take the far more drastic step of ordering the return
of Gascony to Edward, even though, as he admitted to the English
ambassadors, he had been advised that the original cession was invalid.
On the other hand, he did not want to offend Edward either, and
he found himself in a very difficult position. On the surface, the whole
question was purely feudal. The French were now occupying Gascony
and Flanders on the technical grounds that their rulers had forfeited
them by a breach of the feudal contract. But Edward was invading
Scotland for precisely the same reason, and his insubordinate vassal
was the ally of the king of France. Boniface had to uphold the sacredness
of the feudal contract at all costs, for it was only as suzerain
of Sicily and of the Patrimony of Peter that he had any justification
for his Italian wars, but in the English-Scottish-French triangle
it was almost impossible for him to recognize the claims of any one
of the contestants without seeming to invalidate those of the other
two. Because of these involvements in the matter at stake, Boniface
lacked the impartiality that is supposed to be an essential qualification
for the position of arbiter, and in retrospect that would
seem to be
sufficient reason why the English embassies to the Curia proved
so fruitless. But when the situation was so complicated that even
Nogaret, one of the principal actors in the drama, could misinterpret
the pope's motives, it is possible that Othon and his companions,
equally baffled, attributed their difficulties to a more immediate cause.
This was Boniface's monumental tactlessness. "Tact", by
its very derivation, implies that its possessor keeps in touch with other
people, but the author of <Clericis Laicos> and <Unam Sanctam>,
the wielder of the two swords, the papal sun of which the imperial
moon was but a dim reflection, the peer of Caesar and vice-regent
of Christ, was so high above other human beings that he had forgotten
what they were like. He was a learned and brilliant man, one of the
best jurists in Europe and with flashes of penetrating insight, and yet
in his dealings with other people, particularly when he tried to be
ingratiating, he was capable of an abysmal stupidity that can have come
only from a complete incomprehension of human nature and human motives.

This lofty disregard for others was not shared by such men
as Pierre Flotte and his associates, that "brilliant group of mediocre
men", as Powicke calls them, who provided the brains for the
French embassy that came to Rome under the nominal leadership of the
archbishop of Narbonne, the duke of Burgundy, and the count of St&-Pol.
They had risen from humble beginnings by their own diligence
and astuteness, they were unfettered by the codes that bound nobles
like Othon or even the older generation of clerks like Hotham, and
they were working for an end that their opponents had never even visualized.
Boniface was later to explain to the English that Robert
of Burgundy and Guy de St&-Pol were easy enough to do business with;
it was the clerks who caused the mischief and who made him say
that the ruling passion of their race was covetousness and that in dealing
with them he never knew whether he had to do with a Frenchman or
with a devil. To the pope, head of the universal Church, to the duke
of Burgundy, taking full advantage of his position on the borders
of France and of the Empire, or to Othon, who found it quite natural
that he should do homage to Edward for Tipperary and to the count
of Savoy for Grandson, Flotte's outspoken nationalism was completely
incomprehensible. And yet he made no pretense about it; when
the pope, trying no doubt to appeal to his better nature, said to him,
"You have already taken Normandy. Do you want to drive the king
of England from all his overseas possessions"? the Frenchman's
answer was a terse "Vous dites vrai". Loyal and unscrupulous,
with a single-minded ambition to which he devoted all his energies, he
outmatched the English diplomats time and time again until, by a kind
of poetic justice, he fell at the battle of Courtrai, the victim of
the equally nationalistic if less articulate Flemings. The
English, relying on a prejudiced arbiter and confronted with superior
diplomatic skill, were also hampered in their negotiations by the events
that were taking place at home. The Scots had found a new leader
in William Wallace, and Edward's yearly expeditions across the Border
called for evermounting taxes, which only increased his difficulties
with the barons and the clergy. He was unable to send any more
help to his allies on the Continent, and during the next few years many
of them, left to resist French pressure unaided, surrendered to the
inevitable and made their peace with Philip. The defeat and death
of Adolf
of Nassau at the hands of Albert of Habsburg also worked to
the disadvantage of the English, for all the efforts to revive the
anti-French coalition came to nothing when Philip made an alliance with
the new king of the Romans. These shifts in alliance and
allegiance not only increased the difficulties confronting the English
embassy as a whole, but also directly involved the two Savoyards, Amadee
and Othon. In spite of the armistice negotiated by Amadee two
years earlier, the war between Bishop Guillaume of Lausanne and Louis
of Savoy was still going on, and although little is known about
it, that little proves that it was yet another phase of the struggle
against French expansion and was closely interwoven with the larger conflict.
A second truce had been arbitrated in April, 1298, by Jean
d'Arlay, lord of Chalon-sur-Saone, the most staunch of
Edward's
Burgundian allies, and these last were represented in the discussions
at the Curia by Gautier de Montfaucon, Othon's neighbor and a
member of the Vaudois coalition. But although in many of these
discussions Othon and Amadee might have been tempted to consider
their own interests as well as those of the king, Edward's confidence
in them was so absolute that they were made the acknowledged leaders
of the embassy. Amadee may have owed this partly to his relationship
with the king, but Othon, who at sixty seems still to have been a simple
knight, merited his position solely by his own character and ability.
The younger men, Vere, and Pembroke, who was also Edward's
cousin and whose Lusignan blood gave him the swarthy complexion that
caused Edward of Carnarvon's irreverent friend, Piers Gaveston,
to nickname him "Joseph the Jew", were relatively new to the game
of diplomacy, but Pontissara had been on missions to Rome before,
and Hotham, a man of great learning, "jocund in speech, agreeable
to meet, of honest religion, and pleasing in the eyes of all", and an
archbishop to boot, was as reliable and experienced as Othon himself.
But all the reports of this first embassy show that the two Savoyards
were the heads of it, for they were the only ones who were empowered
to swear for the king that he would abide by the pope's decision
and who were allowed to appoint deputies in the event that one was unavoidably
absent. This also gave them the unpleasant duty of
being spokesmen for the mission, and they could foresee that that would
not be easy. Underneath all the high-sounding phrases of royal and
papal letters and behind the more down-to-earth instructions to the envoys
was the inescapable fact that Edward would have to desert his Flemish
allies and leave them to the vengeance of their indignant suzerain,
the king of France, in return for being given an equally free hand
with the insubordinate Scots. This was a doubly bitter blow to the
king. In the eyes of those who still cared for such things, it was
a reflection on his honor, and it gave further grounds for complaint to
his overtaxed subjects, who were already grumbling- although probably
not in Latin- "Non est lex sana Quod regi sit mea lana".
Bad relations between England and Flanders brought hard times to the
shepherds scattered over the dales and downs as well as to the crowded
Flemish cities, and while the English, so far, had done no more than
grumble, Othon had seen what the discontent might lead to, for before
he left the Low Countries the citizens of Ghent had risen in protest
against the expense of supporting Edward and his troops, and the
regular soldiers had found it unexpectedly difficult to put down the
nasty little riot that ensued. In all the talk of feudal rights,
the knights and bishops must never forget the woolworkers, nor was
it easy to do so, for all along the road to Italy they passed the Florentine
pack trains going home with their loads of raw wool from England
and rough Flemish cloth, the former to be spun and woven by the
Arte della Lana and the latter to be refined and dyed by the Arte
della Calimala with the pigment recently discovered in Asia Minor
by one of their members, Bernardo Rucellai, the secret of which they
jealously kept for themselves. These chatty merchants made amusing and
instructive traveling companions, for their business took them to all
four corners of the globe, and Florentine gossip had already reached
a high stage of development as even a cursory glance at the <Inferno>
will prove. A northern ambassador, willing to keep his mouth shut
and his ears open, could learn a lot that would stand him in good stead
at the Curia. They had other topics of conversation, besides
their news from courts and fairs, which were of interest to Othon,
the builder of castles in Wales and churches in his native country.
Behind him lay the Low Countries, where men were still completing
the cathedrals that a later Florentine would describe as "a malediction
of little tabernacles, one on top of the other, with so many pyramids
and spires and leaves that it is a wonder they stand up at all,
for they look as though they were made of paper instead of stone or marble";
the Low Countries, where the Middle Ages were to last for
another two centuries and die out only when Charles the Bold of Burgundy
met his first defeat in the fields and forests below the walls
of Grandson.
It usually turned out well for him because either he liked the right
people or there were only a few wrong people in the town. Alfred wanted
to invest in my father's hotel and advance enough money to build
a larger place. It was a very tempting offer. My father would have done
it if it hadn't been for my mother, who had a fear of being in debt
to anyone- even Alfred Alpert. In spite of his being well
liked there were a few people who were very careful about Alfred.
They had my mother's
opinion of him: that he was too sharp or a little
too good to be true. One of the people who was afraid of Alfred
was his own brother, Lew. I don't know how and I don't know why
but the two stores, the one in Margaretville and the one in Fleischmanns
that had been set up as a partnership, were dissolved, separated
from each other. Everything was all very friendly, except when it came
to Harry, the youngest brother. Alfred, who was a good deal older
than Harry, had treated him like a son, and when Harry decided to stay
in business with Lew instead of going with Alfred, Alfred looked
on the decision as a betrayal. From that day on he never spoke to Harry
or to Lew, or to Lew's two boys, Mort and Jimmy. The six
miles between the towns became an ocean and the Alperts became a family
of strangers. Time went on and everybody got older. I became
fifteen, sixteen, then twenty, and still Tessie Alpert sat on the
porch with a rose in her hair, and Alfred got richer and sicker with
diabetes. It was in the spring of the year when he took to his bed and
Tessie and Alfred found out that they didn't know each other. They
were like two strangers. The store was their marriage, and when
Alfred had to leave it there was nothing to hold them together. Tessie,
everybody thought, was a strong woman, but she was only strong because
she had Alfred to lean on. And when Alfred was forced into his
bed, Tessie left the front porch of the store and sat at home, rocking
in her rocker in the living room, staring out the window- the rose
still in her hair. Tessie could do nothing for Alfred. She couldn't
cook or clean or make him comfortable. Instead she waited for Alfred
to get better and take care of her. Spring was life- and
Alfred Alpert in his sickroom was death. Alfred knew that, too.
I remember him pointing out of the window and saying that he wished he
could live to see another spring but that he wouldn't. Alfred
began to put his affairs in order, and he went about it like a man
putting his things into storage. My father, who liked Alfred very much,
was a constant visitor. One day Alfred told him that he had decided
to leave everything to me. My father, a wise man, asked him not
to. He knew Alfred liked me; if he wanted to leave me something let
it be a trinket, nothing else. By leaving me everything he wouldn't
be doing me a favor, my father told him, and he didn't want to see
his daughter involved in a lawsuit. He didn't want Alfred to leave
me trouble because that's all it would be, and Alfred understood.

Alfred was getting too sick to stay in his own home. The doctor
wanted him in a hospital; the nearest one was forty miles away
in Kingston. The day Alfred left his home and Fleischmanns he gave
up the convictions of a lifetime. He sent me for Meltzer the Butcher,
whom he wanted not as a friend but as a rabbi. Meltzer knew
why I had come for him. Solemnly he walked me back to Alfred's
house without a word passing between us. He entered the house in silence,
walked into Alfred's room, and closed the door behind him. I
sat down to wait, and I watched Tessie Alpert, who hadn't moved
or said a word but kept staring out of the window. For a few minutes
there was nothing to hear. Then Meltzer's voice, quiet, calm,
strong, started the Kaddish, the prayer for the dead. I could hear
Alfred's voice a few words behind Meltzer's like a counterpoint,
punctuated by sobs of sorrow and resignation. There was a finality
in the rhythm of the prayer- it was the end of a life, the end of hope,
and the wondering if there would ever be another beginning.

Meltzer stayed with Alfred, and when the door opened they both came
out. Alfred was dressed for his trip to the hospital. The car was
waiting for him. Alfred, leaning on Meltzer, stopped for a minute to
look at Tessie. She didn't turn away from the window. Alfred nodded
a little nod and went out through the door. Outside, his brother
Harry was waiting for him- he had come to say good-bye. Alfred
walked past him without a word and got into the car. Harry ran to
the side of the car where Alfred was sitting and looked at him, begging
him to speak. Alfred looked straight ahead. The car began to move
and Harry ran after it crying, "Alfred! Alfred! Speak to me".
But the car moved off and Alfred just looked straight ahead. Harry
followed the car until it reached the main road and turned towards
Kingston. He stood there watching until it had gone from his sight.

I went to visit Alfred in the Kingston Hospital a few times.

The first time I went there he asked me to bring him water from
Flagler's well- water that reminded him of his first days in the
mountains- and before I came the next time I filled a five-gallon
jug for him and brought it to the hospital. I don't think he ever
got to drink any of it. The jug stayed at the hospital and the
water- what can happen to water?- it evaporated, disappeared, and
came back to the earth as rain- maybe for another well or another
stream or another Alfred Alpert.

#12 "WHERE IS IT WRITTEN"?#

Mr& Banks was always called Banks the Butcher until he left
town and the shop passed over to Meltzer the Scholar who then became
automatically Meltzer the Butcher. Meltzer was a boarder with the
Banks family. He came to Fleischmanns directly from the boat that
brought him to America from Russia. He was a learned man and a very
gentle soul. He was filled with knowledge of the Bible and the Talmud.
He knew the whyfores and the wherefores but he was weak, very weak,
on the therefores. Banks the Butcher took Meltzer the Scholar
as an apprentice and he made it very clear that a man of learning must
be able to do more than just quote the Commentaries of the Talmud in
order to live. So Meltzer learned a new trade from Banks, who supplied
the town and the hotels with meat. Banks had a family-
a wife, a daughter, and a son. The daughter, Lilly, was a very good
friend of mine and I always had hopes that someday she and Meltzer would
find each other. They lived in the same house and it didn't seem
to be such a hard
thing to do, but the sad realities of Lilly's life
and the fact that Meltzer didn't love her never satisfied my wishful
thinking. Banks the Butcher was a hard master and a hard
father, a man who didn't seem to know the difference between the living
flesh of his family and the hanging carcasses of his stock in trade.
He treated both with equal indifference and with equal contempt;
perhaps he was a little more sympathetic to the sides of beef that
hung silently from his hooks. Lilly Banks and I became friends.
She was the opposite of everything she should have been- a positive
pole in a negative home, a living reaction of warmth and kindness
to the harsh reality of her father. And Lilly's whole family seemed
to be an apology for Mr& Banks. Her brother Karl was a very gentle
soul, her mother was a quiet woman who said little but who had hard,
probing eyes. For every rude word of Mr& Banks's the family
had five in apology. Every chance I got I left the hotel to
visit Lilly. I was free but she was bound to her duties that not even
the coming of Meltzer lightened. She had to clean the glass on the
display cases in the butcher shop, help her brother scrub the cutting
tables with wire brushes, mop the floors, put down new sawdust on the
floors and help check the outgoing orders. When these chores were
finished, only then, was she allowed whatever freedom she could find.

I helped Lilly in the store. To me it was a game, to her it

was the deadly seriousness of life. I wanted to help so that we could
find time to play. And Lilly allowed me to help so that she could
have her few little hours of escape. When the work was finished,
we would walk. The road past the butcher shop took us along the side
of a stream. It ran north, away from the town and the people, through
woods and past the nothingness of a graveyard. Lilly preferred
the loneliness of that walk. I would have liked the town and the
busyness of its people but I always followed Lilly into the peace of
the silent and unstaring road. It wasn't hard to understand.
To me Lilly was a fine and lovely girl. To people who didn't know
her she was a gawky, badly dressed kid whose arms were too long, whose
legs were a little too bony. She had the hips of a boy and a loose-jointed
walk that reminded me of a string of beads strolling down the
street. And she had the kind of crossed eyes that shocked. It was
unexpected, unexpected because Lilly walked with her head bent down,
down, and her mark of friendship was to look into your face. I accepted
her crossed eyes as she accepted my childishness; childishness compared
to her grown-up understanding that life was a punishment for as
yet undisclosed sins. We were almost the same age, she was fifteen,
I was twelve, and where I felt there was a life to look forward to Lilly
felt she had had as much of it as was necessary. When we
went for our walks Lilly's brother would come along every once in
a while. Karl was an almost exact copy of his father physically and it
was strange to see the expected become the unexpected. This huge hulk
played the guitar and he would take it along on our walks and play
for us as we sat alone in the woods or by the stream. Karl played well
and his favorite song was a Schubert lullaby. He spoke no German
but he could sing it and the words of the song were the only ones he knew
in a foreign language. The song, he said, was called "The Stream's
Lullaby", and when he sang, "Gute ruh, Gute ruh, Mach't
die augen zu" there was such longing and such simple sadness that
it frightened me. Later, when I was older, I found the song was part
of Schubert's <Die Scho^ne Mu^llerin>. And even hearing
it in a concert hall surrounded by hundreds of people the words and
the melody would make me a little colder and I would reach out for my
husband's hand. The brother and sister seemed to be a sort
of mutual-aid society, a little fortress of kindness for each other in
a hard world. I felt very flattered to be included in the protection
of their company even though I had nothing to be protected from.

The turn of the century, or to be more precise, the two decades

preceeding and following it, marks a great change in the history of
early English scholarship. At the bottom of this change were great strides
forward in the technical equipment and technical standards of the
historian. In archaeology, for example, the contributions of Frederick
Haverfield and Reginald Smith to the various volumes of the Victoria
County Histories raised the discipline from the status of an
antiquarian pastime to that of the most valuable single tool of the
early English historian. And with the publication of E& T& Leeds'
<Archaeology of the Anglo-Saxon Settlements> the student
was presented with an organized synthesis of the archaeological data
then known. What was true for archaeology was also true of place-name
studies. The value of place-names in the reconstruction of early
English history had long been recognized. Place-names, in fact,
had been extensively utilized for this purpose from the time of Camden
onwards. Without a precise knowledge of Germanic philology, however,
it is debatable whether their use was not more often a source of confusion
and error than anything else. Even in the nineteenth century
such accomplished philologists as Kemble and Guest were led into what
now seem ludicrous errors because of their failure to recognize that
modern forms of place names are not necessarily the result of logical
philological development. It was therefore not until the publication
of J&H& Round's "The Settlement of the South and East
Saxons", and W&H& Stevenson's "Dr& Guest and the English
Conquest of South Britain", that a scientific basis for place-name
studies was established. Diplomatic is another area for
which the dawn of the twentieth century marks the beginning of modern
standards of scholarship. Although because of the important achievements
of nineteenth century scholars in the field of textual criticism
the advance is not so striking as it was in the case of archaeology
and place-names, the editorial principles laid down by Stevenson in
his great edition of Asser and in his <Crawford Charters> were a
distinct improvement upon those of his predecessors and remain unimproved
upon today. In sum, it can be said that the techniques and
standards of present day have their origin at the turn of the century.
And it is this, particularly the establishment of archaeology and
place-name studies on a scientific basis, which are immediately pertinent
to the Saxon Shore. Almost inevitably, the first result
of this technological revolution was a reaction against the methods and
in many cases the conclusions of the Oxford school of Stubbs, Freeman
and (particularly) Green regarding the nature of the Anglo-Saxon
conquest of Britain. Even before the century was out the tide of
reaction had set in. Charles Plummer in the introduction and notes to
his splendid edition of Bede voiced some early doubts concerning the
"elaborate superstructure" they raised up over the slim foundations
afforded by the traditional narratives of the conquest. It was Plummer,
in fact, who coined the much quoted remark: "Mr& Green
indeed writes as if he had been present at the landing of the Saxons
and had watched every step of their subsequent progress". Sir Henry
Howorth, writing in 1898, put himself firmly in the Lappenburg-Kemble
tradition by attacking the veracity of the West Saxon annals.

Early in the present century, W& H& Stevenson continued

the attack with a savage article against Guest. Following him in varying
degrees of scepticism were T&W& Shore, H&M& Chadwick,
Thomas Hodgkin and F& G& Beck. By 1913, Ferdinand Lot
could begin an article subtitled "<La conquete de la Grande-Bretagne
par les Saxons>" with the words, "<Il est difficile aujourd
'hui d'entretenir des illusions sur la valeur du recit traditionnel
de la conquete de la Grande-Bretagne> **h". It is also worthy
of note that Lot cited both Kemble and Lappenberg with favor in
that article. It would seem that the wheel had turned full circle.

In fact, modern scholarly opinion in the main has not retreated

all the way back to the destructive scepticism of the first half of the
nineteenth century. Although one meets with occasional extremists like
Zachrisson or, very recently, Arthur Wade-Evans the majority of
scholars have taken a middle position between the extremes of scepticism
and gullibility. Most now admit that Bede, Gildas, Nennius and
the Anglo-Saxon Chronicles cannot be the infallible guides to early
English history that Guest, Freeman and Green thought them to be.
As R&H& Hodgkin has remarked: "The critical methods of
the nineteenth century shattered most of this picturesque narrative.
On
the other hand, the consensus of opinion is that, used with caution
and in conjunction with other types of evidence, the native sources still
provide a valid rough outline for the English settlement of southern
Britain. As Sir Charles Oman once said, "it is no longer fashionable
to declare that we can say nothing certain about Old English
origins". Therefore, in one way Kemble and Lappenberg
have been vindicated. Their conclusions concerning the untrustworthiness
of the West Saxon annals, the confused chronology of Bede, the
unreliability of the early positions of the Anglo-Saxon genealogies
and the mythological elements contained in Nennius are now mostly accepted.
Nevertheless, in another way modern historians still labor in
the vineyard of the Oxford school. For it is their catastrophic concept
of the Anglo-Saxon invasions rather than Kemble's gradualist
approach which dominates the field. Despite the rejection of the traditional
accounts on many points of detail, as late as 1948 it was still
possible to postulate a massive and comparatively sudden (beginning
in ca& 450) influx of Germans as the type of invasions. At
this point, of course, the issue has become complicated by a development
unforeseen by Lappenberg and Kemble. They, however much they were
in disagreement with the late Victorians over the method by which
Britain was Germanized, agreed with them that the end result was the
complete extinction of the previous Celtic population and civilization.
But beginning, for all practical purposes, with Frederick Seebohm's
<English Village Community> scholars have had to reckon
with a theory involving institutional and agrarian continuity between
Roman and Anglo-Saxon times which is completely at odds with the reigning
concept of the Anglo-Saxon invasions. Against Seebohm formidable
foes have taken the field, notably F& W& Maitland, <whose
Domesday Book and Beyond> was written expressly for this purpose,
and Sir Paul Vinogradoff whose <The Growth of the Manor> had
a similar aim. Largely due to their efforts the catastrophic invasion-theory
has maintained its position although Seebohm has always found
supporters. H&L& Gray in his <English Field Systems> and
Zachrisson's <Romans, Kelts and Saxons> defended in part the
Seebohm thesis while at the present time H&P&R& Finberg and
Gordon Copley seem to fall into the Celtic survivalist camp. This
is nevertheless a minority view. Most scholars, while willing to accept
a survival (revival?) of Celtic art forms and a considerable proportion
of the Celtic population, reject any institutional legacy from
pre-Anglo-Saxon Britain. Therefore, it is plain that the
clear distinctions of the nineteenth century are no longer with us.
In the main stream of historical thinking is a group of scholars, H&M&
Chadwick, R&H& Hodgkin, Sir Frank Stenton et al&
who are in varying degrees sceptical of the native traditions of the conquest
but who defend the catastrophic type of invasion suggested by
them. They, in effect, have compromised the opposing positions of the
nineteenth century. On the other side are the Celtic survivalists who
have taken a tack divergent from both these schools of nineteenth century
thought. As a group they should be favorable to a concept of gradual
Germanic infiltration although the specialist nature of much of
their work, e&g& Seebohm, Gray and Finberg, tends to obscure
their sympathies. Those who do have occasion to deal with the invasions
in a more general way, like T&W& Shore and Arthur Wade-Evans,
are on the side of a gradual and often peaceful Germanic penetration
into Britain. Wade-Evans, in fact, denies that there were any Anglo-Saxon
invasions at all other than a minor Jutish foray in A&D&
514. Now omitting for a moment some recent developments
we can say the Saxon Shore hypothesis of Lappenberg and Kemble has
undergone virtual eclipse in this century. It is no longer possible
to say that a sceptical attitude towards the received accounts of the
invasions almost automatically produces a "shore occupied by" interpretation.
Everyone is more or less sceptical and virtually no one has
been willing to accept Lappenberg or Kemble's position on that
point. One reason is, of course, that the new scepticism has been willing
to maintain the general picture of the invasions as portrayed in
the traditional sources. The few scholars who have adopted the "shore
occupied by" interpretation, Howorth, Shore, and Wade-Evans,
have all been Celtic survivalists. Moreover, they have done so in rather
special circumstances. The primary reason for the abandonment
of the "shore occupied by" thesis has been the assimilation and
accumulation of archaeological evidence, the most striking feature
of early English studies in this century. Again omitting recent developments,
E&T&
Leeds' dictum of 1913 has stood unchallenged: "So far
as archaeology is concerned, there is not the least warrant for the
second (shore occupied by) of these theories". Even earlier Haverfield
had come to the same conclusion. What they meant was that there
was no evidence to show that the south and east coasts of Britain received
Germanic settlers conspicuously earlier than some other parts of
England. That is, there was no trace of Anglo-Saxons in Britain
as early as the late third century, to which time the archaeological
evidence for the erection of the Saxon Shore forts was beginning to
point. In the face of a clear judgment from archaeology, therefore, it
became impossible for a time for scholars to re-adopt the "shore settled
by" theory. In recent years, however, a wind of change
seems to be blowing through early English historical circles. The
great increase in the amount of archaeological activity, and therefore
information, in the years immediately preceeding and following the Second
World War has brought to light data which has changed the complection
of the Saxon Shore dispute. Where there were none fifteen years
ago, several scholars currently are edging their way cautiously towards
the acceptance of the "shore occupied by" position. We must,
therefore, have a look at the new archaeological material and re-examine
the literary and place-name evidence which bears upon the problem.
#@#

What exactly are we trying to prove? We know that the

Saxon Shore was a phenonenon of late Roman defensive policy; in
other words its existence belongs to the period of Roman Britain. So
whenever the Romans finally withdrew from the island, the Saxon Shore
disappeared in the first decade of the fifth century. We also know
that the Saxon Shore as reflected in the <Notitia> was created
as a part of the Theodosian reorganization of Britain (post-A&D&
369). My argument is that there was no Saxon Shore prior to that
time even though the forts had been in existence since the time of Carausius.
Therefore, what we must prove or disprove is that there were
Saxons, in the broad sense in which we must construe the word, in
the area of the Saxon Shore at the time it was called the Saxon Shore.
That is, we must find Saxons in East Anglia, Kent, Sussex and
Hampshire in the last half of the fourth century. The problem,
in other words, is strictly a chronological one. In Gaul the Saxon
element on its Saxon Shore was plainly visible because there the
Saxons were an intrusive element in the population. In Britain, obviously,
the archaeological and place-name characteristics of the Saxon
Shore region are bound to be Saxon. It is a matter of trying to
sort out an earlier fourth-century Saxon element from the later, fifth-century
mainstream of Anglo-Saxon invasions. This, naturally, will
be difficult to do since both the archaeological and place-name evidence
in this period, with some fortunate exceptions, is insufficient
for precise chronological purposes. It might be well to consider
the literary evidence first because it can provide us with an answer
to one important question; namely, is the idea that there were Saxon
mercenaries in England at all reasonable?
To do so, something was necessary beyond volunteering because there was
little glamour or romance in the European war; it meant instead
hardship, dirt, and death. Baker gave Leonard Wood credit for
the initiation of the draft of soldiers; from the General's idea
a chain reaction occurred. Wood took the proposal to Chief of Staff
Hugh L& Scott, who passed it on to Baker a month before the actual
declaration of war against Germany. The Secretary of War gave
his assent after studying the history of the draft in the American
Civil War as well as the British volunteer system in World War /1,.
He concluded that selective service would not only prevent the disorganization
of essential war industries but would avoid the undesirable
moral effects of the British reliance on enlistment only- "where
the feeling of the people was whipped into a frenzy by girls pinning
white feathers on reluctant young men, orators preaching hate of the
Germans, and newspapers exaggerating enemy outrages to make men enlist
out of motives of revenge and retaliation". Baker took the plan
to Wilson who said: "Baker, this is plainly right on any ground.
Start to prepare the necessary legislation so that if I am obliged
to go to Congress the bills will be ready for immediate consideration".
The result was that by secret agreement draft machinery was actually
ready long before the country knew that the device was to take
the place of the volunteering method which Theodore Roosevelt favored.
Before the Draft Act was passed Baker had confidentially briefed
governors, sheriffs, and prospective draft board members on the administration
of the measure- and the confidence was kept so well that
only one newspaper learned what was going on. It was Baker, working
through Provost Marshal Enoch Crowder and Major Hugh S& ("Old
Ironpants") Johnson, who arranged for a secret printing by the
million of selective service blanks- again before the Act was passed-
until corridors in the Government Printing Office were full
and the basement of the Washington Post Office was stacked to the ceiling.
General Crowder proposed that Regular Army officers select
the draftees in cities and towns throughout the nation; it was Baker
who thought of lessening the shock, which conscription always brings
to a country, by substituting "Greetings from your neighbors" for
the recruiting sergeant, and registration in familiar voting places
rather than at military installations. Even so, the Draft Act
encountered rough sledding in its progress through the Congress. Democratic
Speaker Champ Clark saw little difference between a conscript
and a convict. Democrat Stanley H& Dent, Chairman of the
House Military Affairs Committee, declined to introduce the bill.
Democratic Floor Leader Claude Kitchin would have no part of the
measure. In the judgment of Chief of Staff Scott it was ironic that
the draft policy of a Democratic President, aimed at Germany, had
to be pushed through the House of Representatives by the ranking minority
member of the Military Affairs Committee- a Republican Jew
born in Germany! He was Julius Kahn for whom the Chief of Staff
thought no honor could be too great. After Kahn's death in 1924
Scott wrote: "May he rest in peace with the eternal gratitude
of his adopted country". In spite of powerful opposition the
Draft Act finally passed Congress on May 17, 1917. In early June
ten million young men registered by name and number. The day passed
without incident in spite of the warning of Senator James A& Reed
of Missouri: "Baker, you will have the streets of our American
cities running with blood on registration day". On July 20, the
first drawing of numbers occurred in the Senate Office Building before
a distinguished group of congressmen and high Army officers. Secretary
of War Baker, blindfolded, put his hand into a large glass
bowl and drew the initial number of those to be called. It was 258.
A man in Mississippi wired: "Thanks for drawing 258- that's
me". He was the first of 2,800,000 called to the Army through the
selective service system. ##

It was one thing to call men to the

colors; it was another to house, feed, and train them. The existing
Army posts were wholly inadequate. In a matter of months the War
Department built thirty-two camps, each one accommodating fifty thousand
men- sixteen were under canvas in the South and sixteen with frame
structures in the North. It was a gargantuan task; a typical
cantonment in the North had twelve hundred buildings, an electric-sewer-water
system, and twenty-five miles of roads. At Camp Taylor in Kentucky
a barracks was built in an hour and a half from timber that had
been standing in Mississippi forests one week before. The total
operation
was a construction project comparable in magnitude with the Panama
Canal, but in 1917 time was in short supply; in three months
the Army spent three-quarters as much as had been expended on the "big
Ditch" in ten years. In later years Josephus Danielswas
to
claim that World War /1, was the first in American history in which
there was great concern for both the health and morals of our soldiers.
It was the first American war in which the death rate from disease
was lower than that from battle, due to the provision of trained
medical personnel (of the 200,000 officers, 42,000 were physicians), compulsory
vaccination, rigorous camp sanitation, and adequate hospital
facilities. To the middle of September 1918, there had been fewer than
10,000 deaths from disease in the new army. This enviable record
would have been maintained but for a great and unexpected disaster which
struck
the world with murderous stealth. It was the influenza pandemic
of 1918-19. The malady was popularly known as the "Spanish flu"
from the alleged locale of its origin. The world-wide total of deaths
from "Spanish flu" was around twenty million; in the United
States 300,000 succumbed to it. In mid-September 1918, the influenza-pneumonia
pandemic swept through every American military camp; during
the eight-week blitz attack 25,000 soldiers died from the disease
and the death rate (formerly 5 per year per 1,000 men) increased almost
fifty times to 4 <per week> per 1,000 men. In spite of this catastrophe
the final mortality figure from disease in the American Army
during World War /1, was 15 per 1,000 per year, contrasted with
110 per 1,000 per year in the Mexican War, and 65 in the American Civil
War. Both Secretary of War Baker and Secretary of Navy
Daniels devoted much time and effort to the problem of providing
reasonably normal and wholesome activities in camp for the millions of
men who had been removed from their home environment. Their policy
ran counter to the traditional idea that a good fighter was usually a
libertine, and that in sex affairs "God-given passion" was a proof
of manliness. Baker moved first; six days after war was declared
he appointed Raymond Fosdick chairman of the Commission on Training
Camp Activities (the ~CTCA). Fosdick, a brother of minister
Harry Emerson Fosdick, was a graduate of Princeton, and a member of
Phi Beta Kappa and the American Philosophical Association. His
assignment was not a new one because Baker had sent him to the Mexican
border in 1916 to investigate lurid newspaper stories about lack
of discipline, drunkenness, and venereal disease in American military
camps. Fosdick had found the installations surrounded by a battery of
saloons and houses of prostitution, with <filles de joie> from all
over the country flocking to San Antonio, Laredo, and El Paso to
"woman the cribs". He also ascertained that many officers were
indifferent to the problem, including Commanding General Frederick
Funston who gave Fosdick the nickname of "Reverend". On the basis
of the long chronicle of military history Funston and his brethren
assumed that the issue was insoluble and that anyone interested in a
mission like Fosdick's was an impractical idealist or a do-gooder.

During the brief Mexican venture Fosdick's report to the

Secretary recommended a definite stand by the War Department against
the saloon and the excesses of prostitution. The problem involved military
necessity as much as morality, for in pre-penicillin days venereal
disease was a crippling disability. Fosdick insisted that a strong
word was needed from Washington, and it was immediately forthcoming.
Baker put the "cribs" and the saloons out of bounds, ordered the
co-operation of military officers with local law authorities, and told
communities that the troops would be moved unless wholesome conditions
were restored. Both Baker and Fosdick knew that a substitute was
necessary, that a <verboten> approach was not the real answer. They
were aware that soldiers went to town, in more ways than one, because
of the monotony of camp life, to find the only release available in
the absence of movies, reading rooms, and playing fields with adequate
athletic equipment. Both knew that when trains stopped at Texan crossroads
bored soldiers would sometimes enter to ask the passengers if
they had any reading material to spare, even a newspaper. There was
no time in the short Mexican encounter to evolve a solution but the
area provided a proving ground for new departures in the near future.

When the United States entered the First World War Baker
made certain that the Draft Act of 1917 prohibited the sale of liquor
to men in uniform and that it provided for broad zones around the camps
in which prostitution was outlawed. Even so Fosdick, as the new
Chairman of the Commission on Training Camp Activities, encountered
strong and vociferous opposition. New Orleans had a notorious red-light
district extending over twenty-eight city blocks, and the business-minded
mayor of the city journeyed to Washington to present the
case for "the God-given right of men to be men". In Europe, Premier
Clemenceau, showing his animal proclivities as the "Tiger of
France", asked Pershing by letter for the creation of special houses
where the sexual desires of American men could be satisfied. When
Fosdick showed the letter to Baker his negative response was: "For
God's sake, Raymond, don't show this to the President or
he'll stop the war". Ultimately Fosdick's "Fit to fight"
slogan swept across the country and every well-known red-light district
in the United States was closed, a hundred and ten of them. The
result was that the rate of venereal disease in the American Army
was the lowest in our military history. This was the negative
side of the situation. Affirmatively Baker worked on the premise that
"young men spontaneously prefer to be decent, and that opportunities
for wholesome recreation are the best possible cure for irregularities
in conduct which arise from idleness and the baser temptations".
The wholesome activities were to be provided by many organizations including
the ~YMCA, the Knights of Columbus, the Jewish Welfare
Board, the American Library Association, and the Playground and
Recreation Association- private societies which voluntarily performed
the job that was taken over almost entirely by the Special Services
Division of the Army itself in World War /2,. Over these
voluntary agencies, in 1917-18, the ~CTCA served as a co-ordinating
body in carrying out what <Survey> called "the most stupendous
piece of social work in modern times". Under Fosdick the first
executive officer of the ~CTCA was Richard Byrd, whose name in
later years was to become synonymous with activities at the polar antipodes.
From the point of view of popularity the best-known member of
the Commission was Walter Camp, the Yale athlete whose sobriquet
was "the father of American football". He was placed in charge of
athletics, and among other things adapted the type of calisthenics known
as the daily dozen. The ~CTCA program of activities was profuse:
William Farnum and Mary Pickford on the screen, Elsie Janis
and Harry Lauder on the stage, books provided by the American
Library Association, full equipment for games and sports- except that
no "bones" were furnished for the all-time favorite pastime played
on any floor and known as "African golf". The ~CTCA distributed
a khaki-bound songbook that provided the impetus for spirited
renditions of the selections found therein, plus a number of others
whose lyrics were more earthy- from "Johnny Get Your Gun" to
"Keep the Home Fires Burning" to "Mademoiselle from Armentieres".
In the imagination of the nineteenth century the Greek tragedians and
Shakespeare stand side by side, their affinity transcending all the
immense contrarieties of historical circumstance, religious belief, and
poetic form. We no longer use the particular terms of Lessing
and Victor Hugo. But we abide by their insight. The word "tragedy"
encloses for us in a single span both the Greek and the Elizabethan
example. The sense of relationship overreaches the historical
truth that Shakespeare may have known next to nothing of the actual
works of Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. It transcends the
glaring fact that the Elizabethans mixed tragedy and comedy whereas
the Greeks kept the two modes severely distinct. It overcomes our emphatic
awareness of the vast difference in the shape and fabric of the
two languages and styles of dramatic presentation. The intimations of
a related spirit and ordering of human values are stronger than any
sense of disparity. Comparable visions of life are at work in <Antigone>
and <Romeo and Juliet>. We see at once what Victor Hugo
means when he calls Macbeth a northern scion of the house of Atreus.
Elsinore seems to lie in a range of Mycenae, and the fate of Orestes
resounds in that of Hamlet. The hounds of hell search out their
quarry in Apollo's sanctuary as they do in the tent of Richard /3,.
Oedipus and Lear attain similar insights by virtue of similar blindness.
It it not between Euripides and Shakespeare that the western
mind turns away from the ancient tragic sense of life. It is after
the late seventeenth century. I say the late seventeenth century because
Racine (whom Lessing did not really know) stands on the far side
of the chasm. The image of man which enters into force with Aeschylus
is still vital in <Phedre> and <Athalie>. It is the
triumph of rationalism and secular metaphysics which marks the point
of no return. Shakespeare is closer to Sophocles than he is to Pope
and Voltaire. To say this is to set aside the realness of time. But
it is true, nevertheless. The modes of the imagination implicit in
Athenian tragedy continued to shape the life of the mind until the age
of Descartes and Newton. It is only then that the ancient habits
of feeling and the classic orderings of material and psychological experience
were abandoned. With the <Discours de la methode> and the
<Principia> the things undreamt of in Horatio's philosophy seem
to pass from the world. In Greek tragedy as in Shakespeare,
mortal actions are encompassed by forces which transcend man. The reality
of Orestes entails that of the Furies; the Weird Sisters wait
for the soul of Macbeth. We cannot conceive of Oedipus without a
Sphinx, nor of Hamlet without a Ghost. The shadows cast by the personages
of Greek and Shakespearean drama lengthen into a greater darkness.
And the entirety of the natural world is party to the action.
The thunderclaps over the sacred wood at Colonus and the storms in
<King Lear> are caused by more than weather. In tragedy, lightning
is a messenger. But it can no longer be so once Benjamin Franklin
(the incarnation of the new rational man) has flown a kite to it. The
tragic stage is a platform extending precariously between heaven and
hell. Those who walk on it may encounter at any turn ministers of grace
or damnation. <Oedipus> and <Lear> instruct us how little of
the world belongs to man. Mortality is the pacing of a brief and dangerous
watch, and to all sentinels, whether at Elsinore or on the battlements
at Mycenae, the coming of dawn has its breath of miracle. It
banishes the night wanderers to fire or repose. But at the touch of
Hume and Voltaire the noble or hideous visitations which had haunted
the mind since Agamemnon's blood cried out for vengeance, disappeared
altogether or took tawdry refuge among the gaslights of melodrama.
Modern roosters have lost the art of crowing restless spirits back to
Purgatory. In Athens, in Shakespeare's England, and at
Versailles, the hierarchies of worldly power were stable and manifest.
The wheel of social life spun around the royal or aristocratic centre.
From it, spokes of order and degree led to the outward rim of the
common man. Tragedy presumes such a configuration. Its sphere is that
of royal courts, dynastic quarrels, and vaulting ambitions. The same
metaphors of swift ascent and calamitous decline apply to Oedipus
and Macbeth because they applied also to Alcibiades and Essex. And
the fate of such men has tragic relevance because it is public. Agamemnon,
Creon, and Medea perform their tragic actions before the eyes
of the <polis>. Similarly the sufferings of Hamlet, Othello,
or Phedre engage the fortunes of the state. They are enacted at the
heart of the body politic. Hence the natural setting of tragedy is the
palace gate, the public square, or the court chamber. Greek and Elizabethan
life and, to a certain extent, the life of Versailles shared
this character of intense "publicity". Princes and factions clashed
in the open street and died on the open scaffold. With the
rise to power of the middle class the centre of gravity in human affairs
shifted from the public to the private. The art of Defoe and Richardson
is founded on an awareness of this great change. Heretofore
an action had possessed the breadth of tragedy only if it involved high
personages and if it occurred in the public view. Behind the tragic
hero stands the chorus, the crowd, or the observant courtier. In the
eighteenth century there emerges for the first time the notion of a
private tragedy (or nearly for the first time, there having been a small
number of Elizabethan domestic tragedies such as the famous <Arden
of Feversham>). In <La Nouvelle-Heloi^se> and <Werther>
tragedy is made intimate. And private tragedy became the chosen ground
not of drama, but of the new, unfolding art of the novel.
The novel was not only the presenter of the new, secular, rationalistic,
private world of the middle class. It served also as a literary form
exactly appropriate to the fragmented audience of modern urban culture.
I have said before how difficult it is to make any precise statements
with regard to the character of the Greek and Elizabethan public.
But one major fact seems undeniable. Until the advent of rational
empiricism the controlling habits of the western mind were symbolic
and allegoric. Available evidence regarding the natural world, the
course of history, and the varieties of human action were translated
into imaginative designs or mythologies. Classic mythology and Christianity
are such architectures of the imagination. They order the manifold
levels of reality and moral value along an axis of being which
extends from brute matter to the immaculate stars. There had not yet
supervened between understanding and expression the new languages of
mathematics and scientific formulas. The poet was by definition a realist,
his imaginings and parables being natural organizations of reality.
And in these organizations certain primal notions played a radiant
part, radiant both in the sense of giving light and of being a pole
toward which all perspectives converge. I mean such concepts as the presence
of the supernatural in human affairs, the sacraments of grace
and divine retribution, the idea of preordainment (the oracle over Oedipus,
the prophecy of the witches to Macbeth, or God's covenant with
His people in <Athalie>). I refer to the notion that the structure
of society is a microcosm of the cosmic design and that history
conforms to patterns of justice and chastisement as if it were a morality
play set in motion by the gods for our instruction. These
conceptions and the manner in which they were transposed into poetry or
engendered by poetic form are intrinsic to western life from the time
of Aeschylus to that of Shakespeare. And although they were, as I
have indicated, under increasing strain at the time of Racine, they
are still alive in his theatre. They are the essential force behind
the conventions of tragedy. They are as decisively present in the <Oresteia>
and <Oedipus> as in <Macbeth, King Lear>, and <Phedre>.

After the seventeenth century the audience ceased to

be an organic community to which these ideas and their attendant habits
of figurative language would be natural or immediately familiar. Concepts
such as grace, damnation, purgation, blasphemy, or the chain of
being, which are everywhere implicit in classic and Shakespearean tragedy,
lose their vitality. They become philosophic abstractions of
a private and problematic relevance, or mere catchwords in religious customs
which had in them a diminishing part of active belief. After Shakespeare
the master spirits of western consciousness are no longer
the blind seers, the poets, or Orpheus performing his art in the face
of hell. They are Descartes, Newton, and Voltaire. And their chroniclers
are not the dramatic poets but the prose novelists. The
romantics were the immediate inheritors of this tremendous change.
They were not yet prepared to accept it as irremediable. Rousseau's
primitivism, the anti-Newtonian mythology of Blake, Coleridge's
organic metaphysics, Victor Hugo's image of the poets as the Magi,
and Shelley's "unacknowledged legislators" are related elements
in the rear-guard action fought by the romantics against the new
scientific rationalism. From this action sprang the idea of somehow uniting
Greek and Shakespearean drama into a new total form, capable
of restoring to life the ancient moral and poetic responses. The dream
of achieving a synthesis between the Sophoclean and the Shakespearean
genius inspired the ambitions of poets and composers from the time
of Shelley and Victor Hugo to that of Bayreuth. It could not really
be fulfilled. The conventions into which the romantics tried to breath
life no longer corresponded to the realities of thought and feeling.
But the attempt itself produced a number of brilliant works, and
these form a transition from the early romantic period to the new age
of Ibsen and Chekhov. ##

The wedding of the Hellenic to the northern

genius was one of the dominant motifs in Goethe's thought. His
Italian journey was a poet's version of those perennial thrusts
across the Alps of the German emperors of the Middle Ages. The dream
of a descent into the gardens of the south always drew German ambitions
toward Rome and Sicily. Goethe asks in <Wilhelm Meister>
whether we know the land where the lemon trees flower, and the light
of the Mediterranean glows through <Torquato Tasso> and the <Roman
Elegies>. Goethe believed that the Germanic spirit, with its
grave strength but flagrant streaks of brutality and intolerance, should
be tempered with the old sensuous wisdom and humanism of the Hellenic.
On the narrower ground of poetic form, he felt that in the drama
of the future the Greek conception of tragic fate should be joined to
the Shakespearean vision of tragic will. The wager between God and
Satan brings on the destiny of Faust, but Faust assumes his role
voluntarily. The third Act of <Faust> /2, is a formal celebration
of the union between the Germanic and the classic, between
the spirit of Euripides and that of romantic drama. The motif of Faust's
love for Helen of Troy goes back to the sources of the Faustian
legend. It tells us of the ancient human desire to see the highest
wisdom joined to the highest sensual beauty. There can be no greater
magic than to wrest from death her in whom the flesh was all, in whom
beauty was entirely pure because it was entirely corruptible. It is
thus that the brightness of Helen passes through Marlowe's <Faustus>.
Goethe used the fable to more elaborate ends. Faust rescuing
Helen from Menelaus' vengeance is the genius of renaissance Europe
restoring to life the classic tradition. The necromantic change from
the palace at Sparta to Faust's Gothic castle directs us to the
aesthetic meaning of the myth- the translation of antique drama into
Shakespearean and romantic guise. This translation, or rather
the fusion of the two ideals, creates the <Gesamtkunstwerk>,
the "total art form".
The Bishop of Gloucester described the elder Thomas in 1577 as the
richest recusant in his diocese, worth five hundred pounds a year in
lands and goods. When Quiney and William Parsons wrote to Greville
in 1593 asking his consent in the election for bailiff, they sent the
letter to Mr& William Sawnders, attendant on the worshipful Mr&
Thomas Bushell at Marston. Mr& Bushell was mentioned in 1602
in the will of Joyce Hobday, widow of a Stratford glover. Thomas
the elder married twice, had seventeen children, and died in 1615. His
daughter Elinor married Quiney's son Adrian in 1613, and his son
Henry married Mary Lane of Stratford in 1609. His son Thomas,
aged fifteen when he entered Oxford in 1582, married as his first wife
Margaret, sister of Sir Edward Greville. Bridges, a son by his
second wife, was christened at Pebworth in 1607, but Thomas the younger
was living at Packwood two years later and sold Broad Marston
manor in 1622. A third Thomas Bushell (1594-1674), "much loved"
by Bacon, called himself "the Superlative Prodigall" in <The
First Part of Youths Errors> (1628) and became an expert on silver
mines and on the art of running into debt. Edward Greville,
born about 1565, had inherited Milcote on the execution of his father
Lodowick for murder in 1589. He refused his consent to the election
of Quiney as bailiff in 1592, but gave it at the request of the
recorder, his cousin Sir Fulke Greville. The corporation entertained
him for dinner at Quiney's house in 1596/7, with wine and sugar
sent by the bailiff, Sturley. At Milcote on November 3, 1597, the
aldermen asked him to support their petition for a new charter. Sturley
wrote to Quiney that Sir Edward "gave his allowance and liking
thereof, and affied unto us his best endeavour, so that his rights be
preserved", and that "Sir Edward saith we shall not be at any
fault for money for prosecuting the cause, for himself will procure it
and lay it down for us for the time". Greville proposed Quiney as
the fittest man "for the following of the cause and to attend him in
the matter", and at his suggestion the corporation allowed Quiney
two shillings a day. "If you can firmly make the good knight sure
to pleasure our Corporation", Sturley wrote, "besides that ordinary
allowance for your diet you shall have @20 for recompence".

In his letter mentioning Shakespeare on January 24, 1597/8, Sturley

asked Quiney especially that "theare might [be] bi Sir Ed&
Grev& some meanes made to the Knightes of the Parliament for
an ease and discharge of such taxes and subsedies wherewith our towne
is like to be charged, and I assure u I am in great feare and doubte
bi no meanes hable to paie. Sir Ed& Gre& is gonne to Brestowe
and from thence to Lond& as I heare, who verie well knoweth our estates
and wil be willinge to do us ani good". The knights for Warwickshire
in this parliament, which ended its session on February 9,
were Fulke Greville (the poet) and William Combe of Warwick, as Fulke
Greville and Edward Greville had been in 1593. The corporation
voted on September 27, 1598, that Quiney should ride to London about
the suit to Sir John Fortescue, chancellor of the Exchequer,
for discharging of the tax and subsidy. He had been in London for several
weeks when he wrote to Shakespeare on October 25. Sturley on
November 4 answered a letter from Quiney written on October 25 which
imported, wrote Sturley, "that our countriman **f **f Shak& would
procure us monei: which I will like of as I shall heare when wheare
+ howe: and I prai let not go that occasion if it mai sort to
ani indifferent condicions. Allso that if monei might be had for 30
or **f a lease +c& might be procured". Sturley quoted Quiney as
having written on November 1 that if he had "more monei presente much
might be done to obtaine our Charter enlargd, ij& faires more, with
tole of corne, bestes, and sheepe, and a matter of more valewe then
all that". Sturley thought that this matter might be "the rest
of the tithes and the College houses and landes in our towne". He
suggested offering half to Sir Edward, fearing lest "he shall thinke
it to good for us and procure it for himselfe, as he served us the
last time". This refers to what had happened after the Earl of Warwick
died in 1590, when the town petitioned Burghley for the right to
name the vicar and schoolmaster and other privileges but Greville bought
the lordship for himself. Sturley's allusion probably explains
why Greville took out the patent in the names of Best and Wells,
for Sir Anthony Ashley described Best as "a scrivener within Temple
Bar, that deals in many matters for my L& Essex" through Sir
Gelly Merrick, especially in "causes that he would not be known
of". Adrian Quiney wrote to his son Richard on October
29 and again perhaps the next day, since the bearer of the letter, the
bailiff, was expected to reach London on November 1. In his second
letter the old mercer advised his son "to bye some such warys as yow
may selle presentlye with profet. yff yow bargen with **f sha **h
[so in the ~MS] or Receave money ther or brynge your money home
yow maye see howe knite stockynges be sold ther ys gret byinge of them
at Aysshom **h. wherefore I thynke yow maye doo good yff yow can have
money". This seems to refer, not to the loan Richard had asked
for, but to a proposed bargain with Shakespeare. Richard Quiney
the younger, a schoolboy of eleven, wrote a letter in Latin asking
his father to buy copybooks ("<chartaceos libellos>") for him
and his brother. His mother Bess, who could not write herself, reminded
her husband through Sturley to buy the apron he had promised her
and "a suite of hattes for 5 boies the yongst lined + trimmed with silke"
(for John, only a year old). A letter signed "Isabell Bardall"
entreated "Good Cozen" Quiney to find her stepson Adrian,
son of George Bardell, a place in London with some handicraftsman.
William Parsons and William Walford, drapers, asked Quiney to
see to business matters in London. Daniel Baker deluged his "Unckle
Quyne" with requests to pay money for him to drapers in Watling
Street and at the Two Cats in Canning Street. His letter of
October 26 named two of the men about whom Quiney had written to Shakespeare
the day before. Baker wrote: "I tooke order with **f E&
Grevile for the payment of Ceartaine monei beefore his going towardes
London. + synce I did write unto him to dessier him to paie **f
for mee which standeth mee greatly uppon to have paide. + **f more
**f peeter Rowswell
tooke order with his master to paie for mee". He
asked Quiney to find out whether the money had been paid and, if not,
to send to the lodging of Sir Edward and entreat him to pay what
he owed. Baker added: "I pray you delivre these inclosed Letters
And Comend mee to **f Rychard mytton whoe I know will ffreind
mee for the payment of this monei". Further letters in November mention
that Sir Edward paid forty pounds. Stratford's petition
to the queen declared that two great fires had burnt two hundred
houses in the town, with household goods, to the value of twelve thousand
pounds. The chancellor of the Exchequer wrote on the petition:
"in myn opinion it is very resonable and conscionable for hir ma<ies>tie
to graunt in relief of this towne twise afflicted and almost wasted
by fire". The queen agreed on December 17, a warrant was signed
on January 27, and the Exchequer paid Quiney his expenses on February
27, 1598/9. He listed what he had spent for "My own diet in
London eighteen weeks, in which I was sick a month; my mare at coming
up 14 days; another I bought there to bring me home 7 weeks;
and I was six days going thither and coming homewards; all which
cost me at the least @20". He was allowed forty-four pounds in all,
including fees to the masters of requests, Mr& Fanshawe of the
Exchequer, the solicitor general, and other officials and their clerks.
If he borrowed money from Shakespeare or with his help, he would
now have been able to repay the loan. Since more is known about
Quiney than about any other acquaintance of Shakespeare in Stratford,
his career may be followed to its sudden end in 1602. During 1598
and 1599 he made "manye Guiftes of myne owne provision bestowed uppon
Cowrtiers + others for the better effectinge of our suites in hande".
He was in London "searching records for our town's causes"
in 1600 with young Henry Sturley, the assistant schoolmaster. When
Sir Edward Greville enclosed the town commons on the Bancroft,
Quiney and others leveled his hedges on January 21, 1600/1, and were
charged with riot by Sir Edward. He also sued them for taking toll
of grain at their market. Accompanied by "Master Greene our solicitor"
(Thomas Greene of the Middle Temple, Shakespeare's "cousin"),
Quiney tried to consult Sir Edward Coke, attorney general,
and gave money to a clerk and a doorkeeper "that we might have
access to their master for his counsel **h butt colde nott have him
att Leasure by the reason of thees trobles" (the Essex rising on February
8). He set down that "I gave **f Greene a pynte of muskadell
and a roll of bread that last morning I went to have his company
to Master Attorney". After returning to Stratford he drew up a
defense
of the town's right to toll corn and the office of collecting it,
and his list of suggested witnesses included his father and Shakespeare's
father. No one, he wrote, took any corn of Greville's, for
his bailiff of husbandry "swore a greate oathe thatt who soe came
to put hys hande into hys sackes for anye corne shuld leave hys hande
be hynde hym". Quiney was in London again in June, 1601, and in
November, when he rode up, as Shakespeare must often have done, by way
of Oxford, High Wycombe, and Uxbridge, and home through Aylesbury
and Banbury. After Quiney was elected bailiff in September,
1601, without Greville's approval, Greene wrote him that Coke
had promised to be of counsel for Stratford and had advised "that
the office of bayly may be exercised as it is taken upon you, (**f Edwardes
his consent not beinge hadd to the swearinge of you)". Asked
by
the townsmen to cease his suit, Greville had answered that "hytt
shulde coste hym **f first + sayed it must be tried ether before my Lorde
Anderson in the countrey or his uncle ffortescue in the exchequer
with whom he colde more prevaile then we". The corporation proposed
Chief Justice Anderson for an arbiter, sending him a gift of sack
and claret. Lady Greville, daughter of the late Lord Chancellor
Bromley and niece of Sir John Fortescue, was offered twenty pounds
by the townsmen to make peace; she "labored + thought she shuld
effecte" it but her husband said that "we shuld wynne it by the sworde".
His servant Robin Whitney threatened Quiney, who had Whitney
bound to "the good abaringe" to keep the peace. A report of
**f Edw: Grevyles minaces to the Baileefe Aldermen + Burgesses
of Stratforde" tells how Quiney was injured by Greville's men:
"in the tyme **f Ryc' Quyney was bayleefe ther came some of
them whoe beinge druncke fell to braweling in ther hosts howse wher
thei druncke + drewe ther dagers uppon the hoste: att a faier tyme the
Baileefe being late abroade to see the towne in order + comminge by
in
**f hurley Burley. came into the howse + commawnded the peace to be
kept butt colde nott prevayle + in hys endevor to sticle the brawle had
his heade grevouselye brooken by one of hys [Greville's] men whom
nether hym selfe [Greville] punnished nor wolde suffer to be punnished
but with a shewe to turne them awaye + enterteyned agayne".
The fall of Rome, the discovery of precious metals, and the Protestant
Reformation were all links and could only be explained and understood
by comprehending the links that preceded and those that followed.

Often the historian must consider the use of intuition or instinct

by those individuals or nations which he is studying. Unconsciously,
governments or races or institutions may enter into some undertaking
without fully realizing why they are doing so. They react in obedience
to an instinct or urge which has itself been impelled by natural
law. A court may strike down a law on the basis of an intuitive feeling
that the law is inimical to the numerical majority. A nation may
go to war on some trifling pretext, when in reality it may have been
guided by an unconscious instinct that its very life was at stake. When
the historian encounters a situation in which he can perceive no visible
cause and effect sequence, he should be alert to intuition and unconscious
instinct as possible guides. Adams firmly contended
that the historian must never underrate the impact of the geographical
environment on history. Here was another indispensable tool. Indeed,
he concluded that "geographical conditions have exercised a great,
possibly a preponderating, influence over man's destiny". The failure
of Greece to reach the imperial destiny that Periclean Athens
had seemed to promise was almost directly attributable to her physical
conformation. All areas of history were either favorably or adversely
affected by the geographical environment, and no respectable historian
could pursue the study of history without a thorough knowledge of
geography. Brooks Adams was consistent in his admonishments
to historians about the necessary tools or insights they needed to possess.
However, as a practicing historian, he, himself, has left few clues
to the amount of professional scholarship that he used when writing
history. In fact, if judgments are to be rendered upon the soundness
of his historicism, they must be based on scanty evidence. What evidence
is available would seem to indicate that Brooks, unlike his older
brother Henry, had most of the methodological vices usually found
in the amateur. A credulousness, a distaste for documentation, an uncritical
reliance on contemporary accounts, and a proneness to assume
a theory as true before adequate proof was provided were all evidences
of his failure to comprehend the use of the scientific method or to evaluate
the responsibilities of the historian to his reading public. This
is not to assume that his work was without merit, but the validity
of his assumptions concerning the meaning of history must always be
considered against this background of an unprofessional approach.

His credulity is perhaps best illustrated in his introduction to <The

Emancipation of Massachusetts>, which purports to examine the
trials of Moses and to draw a parallel between the leader of the Israelite
exodus from Egypt and the leadership of the Puritan clergy in
colonial New England. Much criticism has been leveled at this rather
forced analogy, but what is equally significant is Adams' complete
acceptance of the Biblical record as "good and trustworthy history".
In light of the scholarly reappraisals engendered by the higher
criticism this is a most remarkable statement, particularly coming
from one who was well known for his antifundamentalist views. The desire
to substantiate a thesis at the expense of sound research technique
smacks more of
the propagandist than the historian. A similar amateurish
characteristic is revealed in Adams' failure to check the
accuracy and authenticity of his informational sources. If he found data
that fitted his general plan, he used it and counted his sources trustworthy.
Conversely, if statistics were uncovered which contradicted
a cherished theory, the sources were denounced as faulty. Such manipulations
are frequently encountered in his essay on the suppression
of the monasteries during the English reformation. Adams depended largely
on the dispatches of foreign ambassadors and observers in England,
claiming that the reports of such agents had to be accurate because
there were no newspapers. This is certainly an irrational dogmatism,
in which the modern mind attempts to understand the spirit of the sixteenth
century on twentieth-century terms. Moreover, he rejects the
contemporary accounts of Englishmen, casually adjudging them to be distorted
by prejudice because "the opinions of Englishmen are of no
great value". What is exposited by this observation is not the inherent
prejudices of Englishmen but the Anglophobia of Brooks Adams.
In all fairness it must be admitted that Adams made no pretense
at being an impartial historian. Impartiality to him meant an unwillingness
to generalize and to search for a synthesis. He deplored the
impact of German historiography on the writing of history, terming
it a "dismal monster". Ranke and his disciples had reduced history
to a profession of dullness; Brooks Adams preferred the chronicles
of Froissart or the style and theorizing of Edward Gibbon, for
at least they took a stand on the issues about which they wrote. He wrote
eloquently to William James that impartial history was not only
impossible but undesirable. If the historian was convinced of his own
correctness, then he should not allow his vision to become fogged by
disturbing facts. It was history that must be in error, not the historian.
It was this basic trait that separated Adams from the ranks
of professional historians and led him to commit time and time again what
was his most serious offense against the historical method- namely,
the tendency to assume the truth of an hypothesis before submitting
it to the test of facts. All of Adams' work reflects this
dogmatic characteristic. No page seems to be complete without the statement
of at least one unproved generalization. One example of this
was his assertion that "**h all servile revolts must be dealt with by
physical force". There is no explanation of terms nor a qualification
that most such revolts have been dealt with by force- only a bald
dogmatism that they must, because of some undefined compulsion, be
so repelled. On matters of race he was similarly inflexible: "Most
of the modern Latin races seem to have inherited **h the rigidity
of the Roman mind". He cites the French Revolution as typifying
this rigidity but makes no mention of the Italians, who have been able
to
adapt to all types of circumstances. He pontificates that "one
of the first signs of advancing civilization is the fall in the value
of women in men's eyes". It made no difference that most evidence
points to an opposite conclusion. For Adams had made up his mind before
all the facts were available. All critics of Adams and
his methods have observed this particular deficiency. J& T& Shotwell
was appalled by such spurious history as that which attributed the
fall of the Carolingian empire to the woolen trade, and he urged Adams
to "transform his essay into a real history, embodying not merely
those facts which fit into his theory, but also the modifications
and exceptions". A& M& Wergeland called the Adams method literally
antihistorical, while Clive Day maintained that the assumptions
were not confined to theories alone but were also applicable to straight
factual evidence. Moreover, stated Day, "He always omits
facts which tend to disprove his hypothesis". Even D& A& Wasson,
who compared <The Emancipation of Massachusetts> to the lifting
of a fog from ancient landscapes, was also forced to admit the methodological
deficiencies of the author. In summary, Brooks Adams
felt that the nature of history was order and that the order so discovered
was as much subject to historical laws as the forces of nature.
Moreover, he believed that most professional historians lacked some
of the essential instruments for a proper study of history. However,
despite the insight of many of his observations, his own conclusions
are open to suspicion because of his failure to employ at all times the
correct research methods. This should not prejudice an evaluation of
his findings, but they were not the findings of a completely impartial
investigator. What was perhaps more important than his concept of
the nature of history and the historical method were those forces which
shaped the direction of his thought. In the final analysis his contribution
to American historiography was founded on almost intuitive insights
into religion, economics, and Darwinism, the three factors which
conditioned his search for a law of history.

#RELIGION WITHOUT SUPERNATURALISM#

Brooks Adams considered religion as an extremely significant

manifestation of man's fear of the unknown. But it was nothing
more than that. Religion and the churches were institutions which
had been created by man, not God. He did not deny God; he simply
did not believe that a Creator intervened or interfered in human
affairs. The historian need not be concerned with the philosophical problems
suggested by religion. There was no evidence, either of a positive
or negative type, of the actions of a Divine Being in this world;
and, since the historian should only be interested in strictly terrestrial
activity, his research should eliminate the supernatural. Furthermore,
he must regard religion as the expression of human forces.
Certainly, he must recognize its power and attempt to ascertain its
influence on the flow of history, but he must not confuse the natural
and the mundane with the divine. Adams was not breaking new ground
when he claimed that the worship of an unseen power was in reality
a reflection of man's inability to cope with his environment. Students
of anthropology and comparative religion had long been aware that
there was, indeed, a direct connection. But Adams was one of the first
to suggest that this human incompetence was the only motivating factor
behind religion. It was this fear which explained the development
of a priestly caste whose function in society was to mollify and appease
the angry deities. To keep themselves entrenched in power, the
priests were forced to demonstrate their unique status through the miracle.
It was the use of the supernatural that kept them in business.
The German barbarians of the fourth century offered an excellent example:

"The Germans in the fourth century were a very simple

race, who comprehended little of natural laws, and who therefore referred
phenomena they did not understand to supernatural intervention.
This intervention could only be controlled by priests, and thus the
invasions caused a rapid rise in the influence of the sacred class. The
power of every ecclesiastical organization has always rested on the
miracle, and the clergy have always proved their divine commission as
did Elijah". Adams contended that once such a special class
had been created it became a vested interest and sought to maintain
itself by assuming exclusive control over the relationships between
God and man. Thus, the Church was born and because of its intrinsic
character was soon identified as a conservative institution, determined
to resist the forces of change, to identify itself with the political
rulers, and to maintain a kind of splendid isolation from the masses.
Doctrine was not only mysterious; it was also sacred, "and no
believer in an inspired church could tolerate having her canons examined
as we should examine human laws". These basic ideas concerning the
nature of religion were, Adams believed, some of the major keys to
the understanding of history and the movement of society. The dark views
about the Puritans found in <The Emancipation of Massachusetts>
were never altered. Despite their adherence to the <status
quo>, the forces of organized religion were compelled to make adjustments
as increasing civilization augmented human knowledge. In <The
Law of Civilization and Decay> Brooks Adams traced this evolution,
always pointing to the fact that although the forms became more
rational, the substance remained unchanged. The relic worship and monasticism
of the Middle Ages were more advanced forms than were primitive
fetish worship and nature myths. Yet, the idea imbedded in each
was identical: to surround the unknown with mystery and to isolate that
class which had been given special dominion over the secrets of God.
To Adams that age in which religion exercised power over the entire
culture of the race was one of imagination, and it is largely the
admiration he so obviously held for such eras that betrays a peculiar
religiosity- a sentiment he would have probably denied.
Stephens had written his classic "incidents of travel" about these
regions a hundred years before, and Catherwood, who had studied Piranesi
in London and the great ruins of Egypt and Greece, had drawn
the splendid illustrations that accompanied the text. Catherwood, an
architect in New York, had been forgotten, like Stephens, and Victor
reconstructed their lives as one reconstructs, for a museum, a dinosaur
from two or three petrified bones. He had unearthed Stephens's
letters in a New Jersey farmhouse and he discovered Stephens's
unmarked grave in an old cemetery on the east side of New York, where
the great traveller had been hastily buried during a cholera epidemic.
Victor had been stirred by my account of him in <Makers and Finders,>
for Stephens was one of the lost writers whom Melville had seen
in his childhood and whom I was bent on resurrecting. Victor
had led an adventurous life. His <metier> was the American tropics,
and he had lived all over Latin America and among the primitive
tribes on the Amazon river. Well he knew the sleepless nights, the howling
sore-ridden dogs and the biting insects in the villages of the
Kofanes and Huitotoes. He had not yet undertaken the great exploit
of his later years, the rediscovery of the ancient Inca highway, the
route of Pizarro in Peru, but he had climbed to the original El Dorado,
the Andean lake of Guatemala, and he had scaled the southern Sierra
Nevada with its Tibetan-like people and looked into the emerald
mines of Muzo. As a naturalist living for two years at the headwaters
of the Amazon, he had collected specimens for Mexican museums,
and he had taken to the London zoo a live quetzal, the sacred bird of
the old Mayans. In fact, he had raised quetzal birds in his camp in
the forest of Ecuador. Moreover, he had spent six months on the Galapagos
islands, among the great turtles that Captain Cook had found
there, and now and then he would disappear into some small island of
the West Indies. Victor's book on John Lloyd Stephens was largely
written in my study in the house at Weston. I had had my
name taken out of the telephone book, and this was partly because of
a convict who had been discharged from Sing Sing and who called me night
after night. He said he was a friend of Heywood Broun who had
run a free employment bureau for several months during the depression,
but the generous Broun to whom I wrote did not know his name and I
somehow conceived the morbid notion that the man in question was prowling
round the house. But one day came the voice of a man I had known
when he was a boy, and I later remembered that this boy, thirty years
before, had struck me as coming to no good. There had been something
sinister about him that warned me against him,- I had never felt
that way about any other boy,- but when he uttered his name on the
telephone I had forgotten this and I was glad to do what he asked of
me. He was a captain, he said, in the army, and on the train to New
York his purse and all his money had been stolen, and would I lend
him twenty-five dollars to be given him at the General Delivery window?
Never hearing from him again, I remembered the little boy of whom
I had had such doubts when he was ten years old. We lived for a
while in a movie melodrama with a German cook and her son who turned
out to be Nazis. Finally we got them out of the house, after the boy
had run away four times looking for other Nazis, threatening to murder
village schoolchildren and bragging that he was to be the next Fu^hrer.
Then he began to have epileptic fits. We found that a charitable
society in New York had a long case-history of the two; and
they agreed to see that the tragic pair would not put poison in anybody
else's soup. To the Weston house came once William Allen
Neilson, the president of Smith College who had been one of my old
professors and who still called me "Boy" when I was sixty. It
reminded me of my other professor, Edward Kennard Rand, of whom I
had been so fond when I was at Harvard, the great mediaevalist and
classical scholar who had asked me to call him "Ken", saying, "Age
counts for nothing among those who have learned to know life <sub
specie aeternitatis">. I had always thought of that lovable man
as many years older than myself, although he was perhaps only twenty
years older, and he confirmed my feeling, along with the feeling of both
my sons, that teachers of the classics are invariably endearing. I
must have written to say how much I had enjoyed his fine book <The
Building
of Eternal Rome>, and I found he had not regretted giving
me the highest mark in his old course on the later Latin poets, although
in my final examination I had ignored the questions and filled the
bluebook with a comparison of Propertius and Coleridge. He had written
to me about a dinner he had had with the Benedictine monks at St&
Anselm's Priory in Washington. There had been reading at table,
especially from two books, Pope Gregory the Great's account
of St& Scholastica in his <Dialogues> and my own <The World
of Washington Irving>. He said, "Some have criticized your book
as
being neither literary criticism nor history. Of course it was not
meant to be. Some have felt that Washington Irving comes out rather
slimly, but let them look at the title of the book". He felt as
I felt about this best of all my books, that it was "really tops".

Two or three times, C& C& Burlingham came to lunch with

us in Weston, that wonderful man who lived to be more than a hundred
years old and whose birthplace had been my Wall Street suburb. His
reading ranged from Agatha Christie to the Book of Job and he had
an insatiable interest in his fellow-creatures, while his letters were
full of gossip about new politicians and old men of letters with whom
he had been intimately thrown six decades before. I could never forget
the gaiety with which, when he was both blind and deaf, he let me
lead him around his rooms to look at some of the pictures; and once
when he came to see us in New York he walked away in a rainstorm,
unwilling to hear of a taxi or even an umbrella, although he was at the
time ninety years old. There were several men of ninety or more whom
I knew first or last, all of whom were still productive and most of
whom knew one another as if they had naturally come together at the apex
of their lives. I never met John Dewey, whose style was a sort
of verbal fog and who had written asking me to go to Mexico with him
when he was investigating the cause of Trotsky; but I liked to think
of him at ninety swimming and working at Key West long after Hemingway
had moved to Cuba. At Lee Simonson's house, I had dined
with Edith Hamilton, the nonogenarian rationalist and the charming scholar
who had a great popular success with <The Greek Way>. Then
there was Mark Howe and there was Henry Dwight Sedgwick, an accomplished
man of letters who wrote in the spirit of Montaigne and produced
in the end a formidable body of work. I saw Sedgwick often before
his death at ninety-five,- he had remarried at the age of ninety,-
and he asked me, when once I returned from Rome, if I knew the
Cavallinis in the church of St& Cecilia in Trastevere. I had to
confess that I had missed these frescoes, recently discovered, that
he had studied in his eighties. Sedgwick had chosen to follow the philosophy
of Epicurus whom, with his followers, Dante put in hell; but
he defended the doctrine in <The Art of Happiness>, and what indeed
could be said against the Epicurean virtues, health, frugality,
privacy, culture and friendship? Of Mark Antony De Wolfe Howe
the philosopher Whitehead said the Earth's first visitors to Mars
should be persons likely to make a good impression, and when he was
asked, "Whom would you send"? he replied, "My first choice
would be Mark Howe". This friend of many years came once to visit
us in the house at Weston. Then I spoke at the ninetieth birthday
party of W& E& Burghardt Du Bois, who embarked on a fictional
trilogy at eighty-nine and who, with <The Crisis>, had created a
Negro intelligentsia that had never existed in America before him. As
their interpreter and guide, he had broken with Tuskegee and become
a spokesman of the coloured people of the world. Mr& Burlingham,-
"C&C&B&"- wrote to me once about an old friend
of mine, S& K& Ratcliffe, whom I had first met in London in
1914 and who also came out for a week-end in Weston. "Did you ever
know a man with greater zest for information? And his memory, like
an elephant's, stored with precise knowledge of men and things and
happenings". His wife, Katie, "as gay as a lark and as lively
as a gazelle",- she was then seventy-six,- had a "a sense of humour
that has been denied S&K&, but neither has any aesthetic perceptions.
People and books are enough for them". S&K& was visiting
C&C&B& and, not waiting for breakfast, he was off to
the University Club, where he spent hours writing obituaries of living
Americans for the <Manchester guardian> or the <Glasgow Herald>.
Later, rising ninety, he was beset by publishers for the story
of his life and miracles, as he put it, but, calling himself the Needy
Knife-grinder, he had spent his time writing short articles and long
letters and could not get even a small popular book done. Then, all
but blind, he said there was nothing in <Back to Methuselah>,-
"G&B&S& ought to have known that",- and "I look at my
bookshelves despairingly, knowing that I can have nothing more to do
with them". However, at eighty-five, he had still been busy writing
articles, reviewing and speaking, and I had never before known an
Englishman who had visited and lectured in three quarters of the United
States. Finally, colleges and clubs took the line that speakers
from England were not wanted any longer, even speakers like S&K&,
so unlike the novelists and poets who had patronized the Americans
for many years. With their facile generalizations about the United
States, these mediocrities, as they often were, had been great successes.
While S&K& did not like Dylan Thomas, I liked his poems
very much, but I made the mistake of telling Dylan Thomas so, whereupon
he said to me, "I suppose you think you know all about me".
I should have replied, "I probably know something about the best
part of you". But I only thought of that in the middle of the night.

Many years later I went to see S&K& in England, where

he was living at Whiteleaf, near Aylesbury, and he showed me beside
his cottage there the remains of the road on which Boadicea is supposed
to have travelled. He was convinced that George Orwell's <1984>
was nearly all wrong as it applied to England, which was "driving
forward into uncharted waters", with the danger of a new tyranny
ahead. "But however we go, whatever our doom, it will not take the
Orwellian shape". With facts mainly in his mind, he was often acute
in the matter of style, and he said, "The young who have as yet
nothing to say will try larks with initial letters and broken lines.
But put them before a situation which they are forced to depict",-
he was speaking of the Spanish civil war,- "and they have no hesitation;
they merely do their best to make it real for others".
He looked at her as she spoke, then got up as she was speaking still,
and, simply and wordlessly, walked out. And that was the end. Or nearly.

He went to the Hotel Mayflower and telegraphed Mencken.

Would he meet him in Baltimore in Drawing Room ~A, Car Three
on the train leaving Washington at nine o'clock next morning?
They would go to New York together, where parties would be piled on
weariness and on misery. But not for long. Both Alfred Harcourt and
Donald Brace had written him enthusiastic praise of <Elmer Gantry>
(any changes could be made in proof, which was already coming from
the printer) and they had ordered 140,000 copies- the largest first
printing of any book in history. But none of this could soothe the
exacerbated nerves. On New Year's Eve, Alfred Harcourt drove
him up the Hudson to Bill Brown's Training Camp, a well-known establishment
for the speedy if temporary rehabilitation of drunkards who
could no longer help themselves. But, in departing, Lewis begged
Breasted that there be no liquor in the apartment at the Grosvenor on
his return, and he took with him the first thirty galleys of <Elmer
Gantry>. On January 4, with the boys back at school and college,
Mrs& Lewis wrote Harcourt to say that she was "thro, quite
thro". "This whole Washington venture was my last gesture,
and it has failed. Physically as well as mentally I have reached the
limit of my endurance. My last gift to him is complete silence until
the book is out and the first heated discussion dies down. For him to
divorce God and wife simultaneously would be bad publicity. I am
really ill at the present moment, and I will go to some sort of a sanitarium
to normalize myself". And she withdrew then to Cromwell
Hall, in Cromwell, Connecticut. Harcourt replied: "I do
really hope you can achieve serenity in the course of time. Of course
I hope Hal can also, but those hopes are much more faint".

#8#

ON JANUARY 8, 1927, he returned to the Grosvenor in high

spirits, and looking fit. He had been, he wrote Mencken at once, "in
the country", a euphemism for an experience that had not greatly
changed him. Charles Breasted remembers that, before unpacking his bag,
he telephoned his bootlegger with a generous order, and almost at
once "the familiar procession of people began milling through our living
room at any hour between two P&M& and three A&M&".
They were strays of every kind- university students and journalists,
Village hangers-on and barflies, taxi drivers and editors and unknown
poets, as well as friends like Elinor Wylie and William Rose Benet,
the Van Dorens and Nathan, Rebecca West and Hugh Walpole
and Osbert Sitwell, Laurence Stallings, Lewis Browne, William Seabrook,
Arthur Hopkins, the Woodwards. When he came home from his
office at the end of the afternoon, Breasted never knew what gathering
he should expect to find, but there almost always was one.
He did not neglect his wife in Cromwell Hall, but telephoned her and
wrote her with assurances of his continuing interest and of his wish
to "stand behind" her in their separation and of his hope that there
would be no bitterness between them. She was occupying herself in
an attempt to write an article about the variety of houses that they
had rented abroad. He was of unsettled mind as to whether he should go
abroad when the <Gantry> galleys were finished. For a time, urging
Breasted to give up his public relations work and take up writing
instead, he hoped to persuade him to become his assistant in research
for the labor novel; if Breasted agreed, they would get a car and tour
the country, visiting every kind of industrial center. When Breasted
insisted that this was impossible for him, Lewis decided to go abroad.

He telephoned L& M& Birkhead and asked him and his

wife to come to Europe as his guests, but Birkhead declined on the
grounds that one of them must be in the United States when <Elmer
Gantry> was published. Lewis was spending his mornings, with the
help of two secretaries, on the galleys of that long novel, making considerable
revisions, and the combination of hard work and hard frivolity
exhausted him once more, so that he was compelled to spend three days
in the Harbor Sanatorium in the last week of January. Before he
made that retreat, he telephoned Earl Blackman in Kansas City and
asked him to come to Europe with him. Blackman was to be in New York
by February 2, because they were sailing at 12:01 next morning.
Lewis told him what clothes he should bring along, and enjoined him
not to buy anything that he did not already own, they would do that
in New York. Blackman arrived a day or two early, and Lewis took him
to a department store immediately and outfitted him, luggage and all,
and then he took him to a party at the Woodwards that went on until
four in the morning. On the evening that they were to sail,
Lewis himself gave a party, but he was too indisposed to appear at it.
Woodward took occasion to warn Blackman about Lewis's drinking
and urged him to "try to keep him sober". After a dinner party for
which she had come down to New York, Mrs& Lewis and Casanova
arrived to see them off, and Elinor Wylie made tart observations that
indicated that Lewis had been less discreet than he had promised to
be about the real nature of their separation. Nevertheless, Mrs&
Lewis was still solicitous of his condition: let him do as he wished,
let him sleep with chambermaids if he must, but, she begged Blackman,
try to keep him from drinking a great deal and bring him back in
good health. As they stood at the first-class rail, waving down to his
wife and Casanova below, Lewis said, "Earl, there is Gracie's
future husband". And when questioned by ship's reporters about
the separation, she said, "I adore him, and he adores me".
Blackman had brought news from Kansas City. Before his departure,
a group of his friends, the Reverend Stidger among them, had given
him a luncheon, and Stidger had seen advance sheets of <Elmer Gantry>.
He was outraged by the book and announced that he had discovered
fifty technical errors in its account of church practices. L& M&
Birkhead challenged him to name one and he was silent. But his rancor
did not cease, and presently, on March 13, when he preached a sermon
on the text, "And Ben-hadad Was Drunk", he told his congregation
how disappointed he was in Mr& Lewis, how he regretted having
had him in his house, and how he should have been warned by the fact
that the novelist was drunk all the time that he was working on the
book. But that sermon, like those of hundreds of other ministers, was
yet to be delivered. In London Lewis took the usual suite
in Bury Street. To the newspapers he talked about his unquiet life,
about his wish to be a newspaperman once more, about the prevalence of
American slang in British speech, about the loquacity of the English
and the impossibility of finding quiet in a railway carriage, about
his plans to wander for two years "unless stopped and made to write
another book". The <Manchester Guardian> wondered how anyone
in a railway carriage would have an opportunity to talk to Mr& Lewis,
since it was well known that Mr& Lewis always did all of the talking.
His English friends, it said, had gone into training to keep
up with him vocally and with his "allegro movements around the luncheon
table". The New York <Times> editorialist wondered just who
would stop Mr& Lewis and make him write a book. Lewis's
remarks about his marriage were suggestive enough to induce American
reporters to invade the offices of Harcourt, Brace + Company for
information, to pursue Mrs& Lewis to Cromwell Hall, and, after
she had returned to New York, to ferret her out at the Stanhope on
upper Fifth Avenue where she had taken an apartment. There, to the
<Evening Post,> she emphatically denied the divorce rumors and explained
that she had stayed behind because of the schooling of their son,
which henceforth would be strictly American. These rumors of permanent
separation started up a whole crop of stories about her. One had
it that a friend, protesting her snobbery, said, "But, Gracie,
you are an American, aren't you"? and she replied, "I was born
in America, <but> I was <conceived> in <Vienna">. Lewis
himself furthered these tales. He is said to have reported that once,
when she went to a hospital to call on a friend after a serious operation,
and the friend protested that it had been "nothing", she replied,
"Well, it was your healthy American peasant blood that pulled
you through". With these and similar tales he was entertaining his
English friends, all of whom he was seeing when he was not showing
Blackman the sights of London and its environs. At once upon
his arrival, he telephoned Lady Sybil Colefax who invited them to
tea, and then Lewis decided to give a party as a quick way of rounding
up his friends. He invited Lady Sybil, Lord Thomson, Bechhofer
Roberts, and a half dozen others. It was a dinner party, Lewis had
been drinking during the afternoon, and long before the party really
got under way, he was quite drunk, with the result that the party broke
up even before dinner was over. Lewis, at the head of the table, would
leap up and move around behind the chairs of his guests making remarks
that, when not highly offensive, were at least highly inappropriate,
and then presently he collapsed and was put to bed. When
Blackman emerged from the bedroom, everyone was gone except the tolerant
Lord Thomson, who stayed and chatted with him for half an hour,
and then Blackman lay awake most of that night, despairing of what he
must expect on the Continent. Finally, at dawn, he fell asleep, and
when he awoke and came into the living room, he found Lewis in his pajamas
before the fire, smoking a cigarette. Blackman said that he wanted
to apologize for not having prevented Lewis from making that horrible
spectacle of himself, that he should have seized him by the neck
at once and forcibly hauled him into his bedroom. Lewis warned him never
to lay a hand on him, and then Blackman asked for his fare back
to the United States. Lewis looked at him and began to cry, and then,
saying that he was going to make a promise, he asked Blackman to call
the porter and to tell him to take out all the liquor that he did
not want. "And from now on, for the rest of this trip, I will only
drink what you agree that I should drink". Blackman called the porter
and had him remove everything but one bottle of brandy, and after
that they would have a cocktail or two before dinner, or, on one of their
walking trips, beer, or, in France and Italy, wine in moderation.

Lewis gave him a guidebook tour of London and, motoring and

walking, took him to Stratford, but the London stay was for only ten
days, and on the twentieth they took the train for Southampton, where
they spent the night for an early morning Channel crossing. Near
Southampton, in a considerable establishment, lived Homer Vachell,
a well-known pulp writer, and his brother, Horace- both friends of
Lewis's. He suggested that they call on these brothers, who received
them pleasantly. Then they returned to their hotel and got ready
for bed. It was late, and Blackman was ready to go to sleep, but Lewis
was not. He said, "We had a good time tonight, didn't we, Earl"?
Earl agreed, and Lewis said that it would have been very different
if his wife had been with him. Then he kept Blackman awake
for more than an hour while he did an imaginary dialogue between his wife
and himself in which, discussing the evening, he was continually berated.
He began the dialogue by having his wife announce that one does
not invade people's homes without warning them that one is coming,
and went on from that with the entire catalogue of his social gaucheries.
From 1613 on, if the lists exist, they contain between twenty to thirty
names. As the total number of incepting bachelors in 1629 was, according
to Masson (<Life>, 1:218 and ~n), two hundred fifty-nine,
the twenty-four names listed in the <ordo senioritatis> for that
year constitute slightly less than one tenth of the total number of bachelors
who then incepted. There were four from St& John's and
four from Christ's, three from Pembroke, and two from each of the
colleges, Jesus, Peterhouse, Queens', and Trinity, with Caius,
Clare, King's, Magdalene, and Sidney supplying one each in the <ordo
senioritatis>. The list was headed by [Henry] Hutton of St&
John's who was matriculated from St& John's at Easter,
1625. He became a fellow of Jesus in 1629, proceeded M&A& from
Jesus in 1632, and was proctor in 1639-40. The second name was [Edward]
Kempe, matriculated from Queens' College at Easter, 1625.
He proceeded M&A& in 1632, and B&D& in 1639, being made
fellow in 1632. He was ordained deacon 16 June and priest 22 December
1633. The third name was [John] Ravencroft, who was admitted
to the Inner Temple in November 1631. The fourth name was [John]
Milton of Christ's College, followed by [Richard] Manningham
of Peterhouse, who matriculated 16 October 1624. Venn gave his B&A&
as 1624, a mistake for 1629. Manningham also proceeded M&A&
in 1632 and became a fellow of his college in that year. [John]
Boutflower of Christ's was twelfth in the list, coming from Perse
School under Mr& Lovering as pensioner 20 April 1625 under Mr&
Alsop. The fourteenth name was [Richard] Buckenham, written
Buckman, admitted to Christ's College under Scott 2 July 1625.
The fifteenth name was [Thomas] Baldwin, admitted to Christ's
4 March 1625 under Alsop. Christ's College was well represented
that year in the <ordo>, and the name highest on the list from that
college was Milton's, fourth in the entire university. Small wonder
that Milton later boasted of how well his work had been received
there, since he attained a rank in the order of commencing bachelors higher
than that of any other inceptor from Christ's of that year.

It is not possible to reconstruct fully the arrangements whereby

these honors lists were then made up or even how the names that they
contained assumed the order in which we find them. The process usually
began with a tutor boasting about a boy, as Chappell had boasted about
Lightfoot, to the higher officers of the college and university.
Then the various officers of the college might take up the case. It
would, however, reach the proctors and other officers in charge of the
public-school performances of the incepting bachelors, and the place
that any individual obtained in the lists depended greatly on how he comported
himself in the public schools during his acts therein as he was
incepting. Of course the higher officials could add or place a name
on the list wherever they wished. Milton's name being fourth is neither
too high nor too low to be assigned to the arbitrary action of
vice-chancellor, proctor, master, or other mighty hand. He evidently
earned the place assigned him.

#RECAPITULATION OF MILTON'S UNDERGRADUATE

CAREER#
Looking back from the spring of 1629 over the four years
of Milton's undergraduate days, certain phases of his college
career stand out as of permanent consequence to him and hence to us. Of
course the principal factor in the whole experience was the kind of
education he received. It differed from what an undergraduate receives
today from any American college or university mainly in the certainty
of what he was forced to learn compared with the loose and widely
scattered information obtained today by most of our undergraduates. Milton
was required to absorb and display an intensive and accurate knowledge
of Latin grammar, logic-rhetoric, ethics, physics or natural philosophy,
metaphysics, and Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. He had also
sampled various special fields of learning, being unable to miss some
study of divinity, Justinian (law), and Galen (medicine). Above all,
he had learned to write formal Latin prose and verse to a remarkable
degree of artistry. He had learned to dispute devastatingly, both formally
and informally in Latin, and according to the rules on any topic,
pro or con, drawn from almost any subject, more especially from Aristotle's
works. He could produce carefully constructed orations,
set and formal speeches, artfully and prayerfully made by writing and
rewriting with all the aid his tutor and others could provide, and then
delivered verbatim from memory. He had also learned to dispute extempore
remarkably well, the main evidence for which of course is the presence
of his name in the honors list of 1628/29. He also displayed
the ability to write Latin verse on almost any topic of dispute, the
verses, of course, to be delivered from memory. Then we have surviving
at least one instance of a poem prepared for another in <Naturam non
Pati Senium>, and perhaps also the <De Idea Platonica>. But
his greatest achievement, in his own eyes and in the eyes of his colleagues
and teachers, was his amazing ability to produce literary Latin
pieces, and he was often called on to do so. These were his public
academic activities, <domi forisque>, in the college and in the university.
And his performances attracted much attention, as the frequency
of his surviving pieces in any calendar that may be set up for his
undergraduate activities testifies. His other activities are
not so easily recovered. His statements about sports and exercises of
a physical nature are suggestive, but inconclusive. His later boastings
of his skill with the small sword are indicative of much time and
practice devoted to the use of that weapon. Venn and others have dealt
with sports and pastimes at Cambridge in Milton's day with not very
specific results. Milton himself, uncommunicative as he is about
his lesser and nonliterary activities, at least gives us some evidence
that he was a great walker, under any and all conditions. His early
poems and some of his prose prolusions speak of wanderings in the city
and the neighboring country that may be extended to Cambridge and its
surrounding countryside. The town itself and the "reedy Cam" he
often visited, as did all in the university. The churches, the taverns,
and the various other places of the town must have known his figure
well as he roved to and about them. The tiny hamlet of Chesterton
to the north, with the fens and marshes lying on down the Ouse River,
may have attracted him often, as it did many other youths of the time.
The Gog Magog Hills to the southeast afforded him and all other
students a vantage point from which to view the town and university
of their dwelling. The country about Cambridge is flat and not particularly
spectacular in its scenery, though it offers easy going to the
foot traveler. Ball games, especially football, required some attention,
and other organized sports may have attracted him as participant
or spectator. He smoked, as did everybody, and imbibed the various alcoholic
beverages of that day, although his protestations while at Cambridge
and after that he was no drunkard point to reasonable abstinence
from the wild drinking bouts of some of the undergraduates and, we
must add, of some of their elders including many of the regents or teachers.

What manner of person does Milton appear to have been

when as an undergraduate he resided at Christ's College? He was
then a slightly built young man of pleasing appearance, medium stature,
and handsome face. Graceful as his fencing and dancing lessons had
taught him to be in addition to the natural grace of his slight, wiry
frame, he cut enough of a figure to have evoked a nickname in the college,
to which he himself referred in <Prolusion /6,: A quibusdam,
audivi nuper Domina>. That is, if we can trust that most specious
of prolusions, packed as it is with wit and persiflage. The <Domina>
sounds real enough, if we could only trust the conditions under
which we learn of its use; but anyone who would put much trust in any
phase of <Prolusion /6,> except its illusive allusiveness deserves
whatever fate may be meted out to him by virtue of the egregiously
stilted banter. In short, the traditional epithet for Milton of 'Lady
of Christ's', while eminently fitting, rests only on this
baffling passage in the midst of the most treacherous piece of writing
Milton left us. Aubrey's mention of it (2:67, and Bodleian ~MS
Aubr& 8, f& 63) comes from this prolusion, through Christopher
Milton or Edward Phillips. It is not a question of truth or falsity;
the prolusion in which the autobiographic statement about the
epithet occurs is such a mass of intentionally buried allusions that
almost nothing in it can be accepted as true- or discarded as false.
The entire exercise, Latin and English, is most suggestive of the
kind of person Milton had become at Christ's during his undergraduate
career; the mere fact that he was selected, though as a substitute,
to act as interlocutor or moderator for it, or perhaps we should say
with Buck as 'father of the act', is in itself a difficult phase
of his development to grasp. Milton was to act as the archfool, the
supreme wit, the lightly bantering <pater, Pater Liber,> who could
at once trip lightly over that which deserved such treatment, or could
at will annihilate the common enemies of the college gathering, and
with words alone. From an exercise involving merely raucous, rough-and-tumble
comedy, in his hands the performance turned into a revel of
wit and word play, indecent at times, but always learned, pointed, and
carefully aimed at some individuals present, and at the whole assembly.
To do this successfully required great skill and a special talent
for both solemn and ribald raillery, a talent not bestowed on many persons,
but one with which Milton was marked as being endowed and in which,
at least in this performance, he obviously reveled. It may be thought
unfortunate that he was called on entirely by accident to perform,
if again we may trust the opening of the <oratio>, for it marks
the beginning for us of his use of his peculiar form of witty word play
that even in this Latin banter has in it the unmistakable element of
viciousness and an almost sadistic delight in verbally tormenting an
adversary. But the real beginnings of this development in him go back
to the opposing of grammar school, and probably if it had not been this
occasion and these Latin lines it would have been some others, such
as the first prolusion, that set off this streak in him of unbridled
and scathing verbal attack on an enemy. All western Europe would hear
and listen to him in this same vein about the middle of the century.

But these prolusions that we have surviving from the Christ's

College days are only one phase of his existence then. Perhaps
his most important private activity was the combination of reading,
discussion with a few- if we can trust his writings to Diodati and
the younger Gill, very few- congenial companions. Lines 23-36 of <Lycidas>
later point to a friendship with Edward King, who entered
Christ's College 9 June 1626. No other names among the young men
in residence at the time seem to have been even suggested by Milton
as those of persons with whom he in any way consorted. But that scarcely
means that he was the aloof, forbidding type of student who shared
few if any activities with his fellows, the banter of the surviving
prolusions providing enough evidence to deny this. Apparently he was
not a participant in the college or university theatricals, which he
once attacked as utterly unworthy performances (see <Apology,> 3:300);
but even in that famous passage, Milton was aiming not at the
theatricals as such but at their performance by 'persons either enter'd,
or presently to enter into the ministry'. The fact that he
nowhere mentioned theatrical performances as part of the activities of
the boys later in his hypothetical academy (1644) should not be taken
too seriously as evidence that he desired them to eschew such performances.
Perhaps, in that short piece or letter written to Hartlib in
which he sketched his scheme for educating young men, he merely overlooked
that phase of their exercises.
Writers of this class of science fiction have clearly in mind the assumptions
that man can master the principles of this cause-and-effect universe
and that such mastery will necessarily better the human lot. On
the other hand, the bright vision of the future has been directly stated
in science fiction concerned with projecting ideal societies- science
fiction, of course, is related, if sometimes distantly, to that
utopian literature optimistic about science, literature whose period
of greatest vigor in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries
produced Edward Bellamy's <Looking Backward> and H& G&
Wells's <A Modern Utopia>. In Arthur Clarke's <Childhood's
End> (1953), though written after the present flood of dystopias
began, we can see the bright vision of science fiction clearly
defined. <Childhood's End>- apparently indebted to Kurd
Lasswitz's utopian romance, <Auf Zwei Planeten> (1897), and
also to Wells's histories of the future, especially <The World Set
Free> (1914) and <The Shape of Things to Come> (1933)-
describes
the bloodless conquest of earth by the Overlords, vastly superior
creatures who come to our world in order to prepare the human race for
its next stage of development, an eventual merging with the composite
mind of the universe. Arriving just in time to stop men from turning
their planet into a radioactive wasteland, the Overlords unite earth
into one world in which justice, order, and benevolence prevail and
ignorance, poverty, and fear have ceased to exist. Under their rule,
earth becomes a technological utopia. Both abolition of war and new
techniques of production, particularly robot factories, greatly increase
the world's wealth, a situation described in the following passage,
which has the true utopian ring: "Everything was so cheap that
the necessities of life were free, provided as a public service by
the community, as roads, water, street lighting and drainage had once
been. A man could travel anywhere he pleased, eat whatever he fancied-
without handing over any money". With destructive tensions and
pressures removed men have the vigor and energy to construct a new human
life- rebuilding entire cities, expanding facilities for entertainment,
providing unlimited opportunities for education- indeed, for
the first time giving everyone the chance to employ his talents to the
fullest. Mankind, as a result, attains previously undreamed of levels
of civilization and culture, a golden age which the Overlords, a very
evident symbol of science, have helped produce by introducing reason
and the scientific method into human activities. Thus science is the
savior of mankind, and in this respect <Childhood's End> only
blueprints in greater detail the vision of the future which, though not
always so directly stated,
has nevertheless been present in the minds
of most science-fiction writers. Considering then the optimism
which has permeated science fiction for so long, what is really remarkable
is that during the last twelve years many science-fiction writers
have turned about and attacked their own cherished vision of the future,
have attacked the <Childhood's End> kind of faith that science
and technology will inevitably better the human condition. And they
have done this on a very large scale, with a veritable flood of novels
and stories which are either dystopias or narratives of adventure
with dystopian elements. Because of the means of publication- science-fiction
magazines and cheap paperbacks- and because dystopian science
fiction is still appearing in quantity the full range and extent
of this phenomenon can hardly be known, though one fact is evident:
the science-fiction imagination has been immensely fertile in its extrapolations.
Among the dystopias, for example, Isaac Asimov's <The
Caves of Steel> (1954) portrays the deadly effects on human life
of the super-city of the future; James Blish's <A Case of Conscience>
(1958) describes a world hiding from its own weapons of destruction
in underground shelters; Ray Bradbury's <Fahrenheit
451> (1954) presents a book-burning society in which wall television
and hearing-aid radios enslave men's minds; Walter M& Miller,
Jr&'s, <A Canticle for Leibowitz> (1959) finds men, after
the great atomic disaster, stumbling back to their previous level of
civilization and another catastrophe; Frederick Pohl's "The Midas
Touch" (1954) predicts an economy of abundance which, in order
to remain prosperous, must set its robots to consuming surplus production;
Clifford D& Simak's "How-2" (1954) tells of a future
when robots have taken over, leaving men nothing to do; and Robert
Sheckley's <The Status Civilization> (1960) describes a world
which, frightened by the powers of destruction science has given it,
becomes static and conformist. A more complete list would also include
Bradbury's "The Pedestrian" (1951), Philip K&
Dick's
<Solar Lottery> (1955), David Karp's <One> (1953), Wilson
Tucker's <The Long Loud Silence> (1952), Jack Vance's
<To Live Forever>
(1956), Gore Vidal's <Messiah> (1954), and
Bernard Wolfe's <Limbo> (1952), as well as the three perhaps most
outstanding dystopias, Frederik Pohl and C& M& Kornbluth's
<The Space Merchants> (1953), Kurt Vonnegut's <Player
Piano> (1952), and John Wyndham's <Re-Birth> (1953), works which
we will later examine in detail. The novels and stories like Pohl's
<Drunkard's Walk> (1960), with the focus on adventure and
with the dystopian elements only a dim background- in this case an
uneasy, overpopulated world in which the mass of people do uninteresting
routine jobs while a carefully selected, university-trained elite
runs everything- are in all likelihood as numerous as dystopias.

There is, of course, nothing new about dystopias, for they belong
to a literary tradition which, including also the closely related satiric
utopias, stretches from at least as far back as the eighteenth century
and Swift's <Gulliver's Travels> to the twentieth century
and Zamiatin's <We,> Capek's <War with the Newts,> Huxley's
<Brave New World,> E& M& Forster's "The Machine
Stops", C& S& Lewis's <That Hideous Strength,>
and Orwell's <Nineteen Eighty-Four,> and which in science fiction
is represented
before the present deluge as early as Wells's trilogy, <The
Time Machine,> "A Story of the Days to Come", and <When
the Sleeper Wakes,> and as recently as Jack Williamson's "With
Folded Hands" (1947), the classic story of men replaced by their
own robots. What makes the current phenomenon unique is that so
many science-fiction writers have reversed a trend and turned to writing
works critical of the impact of science and technology on human life.
Since the great flood of these dystopias has appeared only in the
last twelve years, it seems fairly reasonable to assume that the chief
impetus was the 1949 publication of <Nineteen Eighty-Four,> an assumption
which is supported by the frequent echoes of such details as
Room 101, along with education by conditioning from <Brave New World,>
a book to which science-fiction writers may well have returned
with new interest after reading the more powerful Orwell dystopia.

Not all recent science fiction, however, is dystopian, for the

optimistic strain is still very much alive in <Mission of Gravity>
and <Childhood's End,> as we have seen, as well as in many other
recent popular novels and stories like Fred Hoyle's <The Black
Cloud> (1957); and among works of dystopian science fiction, not
all provide intelligent criticism and very few have much merit as literature-
but then real quality has always been scarce in science fiction.
In addition, there are many areas of the human situation besides
the impact of science and technology which are examined, for science-fiction
dystopias often extrapolate political, social, economic tendencies
only indirectly related to science and technology. Nevertheless,
with all these qualifications and exceptions, the current dystopian
phenomenon remains impressive for its criticism that science and technology,
instead of bringing utopia, may well enslave, dehumanize, and even
destroy men. How effectively these warnings can be presented is seen
in Pohl and Kornbluth's <The Space Merchants,> Vonnegut's
<Player Piano> and Wyndham's <Re-Birth>. Easily
the best known of these three novels is <The Space Merchants,> a
good example of a science-fiction dystopia which extrapolates much more
than the impact of science on human life, though its most important
warning is in this area, namely as to the use to which discoveries in
the behavioral sciences may be put. The novel, which is not merely dystopian
but also brilliantly satiric, describes a future America where
one-sixteenth of the population, the men who run advertising agencies
and big corporations, control the rest of the people, the submerged
fifteen-sixteenths who are the workers and consumers, with the government
being no more than "a clearing house for pressures". Like
ours, the economy of the space merchants must constantly expand in order
to survive, and, like ours, it is based on the principle of "ever
increasing everybody's work and profits in the circle of consumption".
The consequences, of course, have been dreadful: reckless expansion
has led to overpopulation, pollution of the earth and depletion
of its natural resources. For example, even the most successful executive
lives in a two-room apartment while ordinary people rent space in
the stairwells of office buildings in which to sleep at night; soyaburgers
have replaced meat, and wood has become so precious that it is
saved for expensive jewelry; and the atmosphere is so befouled that
no one dares walk in the open without respirators or soot plugs.

While <The Space Merchants> indicates, as Kingsley Amis has

correctly observed, some of the "impending consequences of the growth
of industrial and commercial power" and satirizes "existing habits
in the advertising profession", its warning and analysis penetrate
much deeper. What is wrong with advertising is not only that it is
an "outrage, an assault on people's mental privacy" or that it
is a major cause for a wasteful economy of abundance or that it contains
a coercive tendency (which is closer to the point). Rather what Kornbluth
and Pohl are really doing is warning against the dangers inherent
in perfecting "a science of man and his motives". <The Space
Merchants,> like such humanist documents as Joseph Wood Krutch's
<The Measure of Man> and C& S& Lewis's <The Abolition
of Man,> considers what may result from the scientific study
of human nature. If man is actually the product of his environment
and if science can discover the laws of human nature and the ways in which
environment determines what people do, then someone- a someone
probably standing outside traditional systems of values- can turn around
and develop completely efficient means for controlling people. Thus
we will have a society consisting of the planners or conditioners,
and the controlled. And this, of course, is exactly what Madison Avenue
has been accused of doing albeit in a primitive way, with its "hidden
persuaders" and what the space merchants accomplish with much
greater sophistication and precision. Pohl and Kornbluth's
ad men have long since thrown out appeals to reason and developed techniques
of advertising which tie in with "every basic trauma and neurosis
in American life", which work on the libido of consumers, which
are linked to the "great prime motivations of the human spirit".
As the hero, Mitchell Courtenay, explains before his conversion,
the job of advertising is "to convince people without letting them
know that they're being convinced". And to do this requires first
of all the kind of information about people which is provided by the
scientists in industrial anthropology and consumer research, who, for
example, tell Courtenay that three days is the "optimum priming period
for a closed social circuit to be triggered with a catalytic cue-phrase"-
which means that an effective propaganda technique is to send
an idea into circulation and then three days later reinforce or undermine
it. And the second requirement for convincing people without
their knowledge is artistic talent to prepare the words and pictures which
persuade by using the principles which the scientists have discovered.
Thus the copywriter in the world of the space merchants is the
person who in earlier ages might have been a lyric poet, the person "capable
of putting together words that stir and move and sing". As
Courtenay explains, "Here in this profession we reach into the souls
of men and women. And we do it by taking talent- and redirecting
it". Now the basic question to be asked in this situation
is what motivates the manipulators, that is, what are their values?-
since, as Courtenay says, "Nobody should play with lives the way
we do unless he's motivated by the highest ideals". But the only
ideal he can think of is "Sales"! Indeed, again and again, the
space merchants confirm the prediction of the humanists that the conditioners
and behavioral scientists, once they have seen through human
nature, will have nothing except their impulses and desires to guide
them.
##

We often say of a person that he "looks young for his age"

or "old for his age". Yet even in the more extreme of such cases
we seldom go very far astray in guessing what his age actually is. And
this means, I suppose, that almost invariably age reveals itself by
easily recognizable signs engraved on both the body and the mind. "Young
for his age" means only the presence of some minor characteristic
not quite usual. Stigmata quite sufficient for diagnosis are nevertheless
there. An assumption of youth, or the presence of a few youthful
characteristics, deceives no more successfully than rouge or dyed
hair. "Looking young for your age" means "for your age" and
it means no more. A mind expressing itself in words may reveal
itself a little less obviously as old or young. Its surface loses its
bloom and submits to its wrinkles in ways less immediately obvious
than the body does. Youth may be, and often is, skeptical, cynical or
despairing; age may be idealistic, believing and much given to professions
of optimism. But there is, nevertheless, always a subtle difference
in the way in which supposedly similar opinions are held. The
pessimism of the young is defiant, anxious to confess or even exaggerate
its ostensible gloom, and so exuberant as to reveal the fact that
it regards
its ability to face up to the awful truth as more than enough to compensate
for the awfulness of that truth. Similarly the optimism of age
protests too much. If it proclaims that the best is yet to be, it always
arouses, at least in the young, either a suspicious question or perhaps
the exclamation of the Negro youth who saw on a tombstone the
inscription, "I am not dead but sleeping". "Boy, you ain't fooling
nobody but yourself". We may say of some unfortunates
that they were never young. We cannot truthfully say of anyone who has
succeeded in entering deep into his sixties that he was never old.
Those famous lines of the Greek Anthology with which a fading beauty
dedicates her mirror at the shrine of a goddess reveal a wise attitude:
"Venus take my votive glass, Since I am not what I was, What
from this day I shall be, Venus, let me never see". No
good can come of contemplating the sad, inevitable fact that once youth
has passed "a worse and worse time still succeeds the former".
But there are at least two reasons for contemplating one's <mind>
in even a cracked mirror. One is that there sometimes are real although
inadequate compensations in growing old. Serenity, if one is fortunate
enough to achieve it, is not so good as joy, but it is something.
Even to be "from hope and fear set free" is at least better than
to have lost the first without having got rid of the second. The other
reason (and the one with which I am here concerned) is that one thus
becomes inclined to inquire of any opinion, or change of opinion,
whether it represents the wisdom of experience or is only the result of
the difference between youth and age which is as inevitable as the all
too obvious physical differences. One may be exasperatingly aware
that if the answer is favorable it will be judged such only by those of
one's own age. But at least the question has been raised. Many readers
of this department no doubt discount certain of my opinions for
the simple reason that they can guess pretty accurately, even if they
have never actually been told, what my age is. At least I should like
them to know that I know these discounts are being made. ##

Let
me then (and in public) glance into the mirror. I have known some
men and women who said that the selves they are told about or even remember
seem utter strangers to them now; that their remote past is as
discontinuous with their present selves, as lacking in any conscious
likeness to their mature personality, as the self of a butterfly may be
imagined discontinuous with that of the caterpillar it once was. For
my part I find it difficult to conceive such a state of affairs. I
have changed and I have reversed opinions; but I am so aware of an
uninterrupted continuity of the persona or ego that I see only as absurd
the tendency of some psychologists from Heraclitus to Pirandello
and Proust to regard consciousness as no more than a flux amid which
nothing remains unchanged. So far as I am concerned, the child is
unmistakably father to the man, despite the obvious fact that child and
father differ greatly- sometimes for the better and sometimes for
the worse. Fundamental values, temperament and the way in which
one approaches a conviction change less, of course, than specific opinions.
That fact is very clearly illustrated in the case of the many
present-day intellectuals who were Communists or near-Communists in
their youth and are now so extremely conservative (or reactionary, as
many would say) that they can define no important political conviction
that does not seem so far from even a centrist position as to make
the distinction between Mr& Nixon and Mr& Khrushchev for them
hardly worth noting. But in ways more fundamental than specific political
opinions they are still what they always were: passionate, sure
without a shadow of doubt of whatever it is that they are sure of, capable
of seeing black and white only and, therefore, committed to the
logical extreme of whatever it is they are temporarily committed to.

To those of my readers who find many of my opinions morally, or

politically, or sociologically antiquated (and I have reason to know
that there are some such), I would like to say what I have already
hinted, namely, that some of my opinions may indeed be subject to some
discount on the simple ground that I am no longer young and therefore
incapable of being youthful of mind. But I will also remind them that
I have always been inclined to skepticism, to a kind of Laodicean
lack of commitment so far as public affairs are concerned; so that,
although not as eager as I once was to be disapproved of, I can still
resist prevailing opinions. At about the age of twelve I became
a Spencerian liberal, and I have always considered myself a liberal
of some kind even though the definition has changed repeatedly since
Spencer became a reactionary. Several times in my youth I voted
the Socialist ticket, but less because I was Socialist than because
I was not either a Republican or a Democrat, and I voted for
Franklin Roosevelt every time he was a candidate. Yet during the years
when I was on the staff of the <Nation,> I tried to the limit
the patience of the editors on almost every occasion when I was permitted
to write an editorial having a bearing on a political or social
question. Never once during the trying thirties did I come so
close to succumbing to the private climate of opinion as to grant Russian
communism even that most weasel-worded of encomiums "an interesting
experiment". There are few things of which I am prouder than
of that unblemished record. Many of my friends at the time thought that
I had received a well-deserved condemnation when Lincoln Steffens
denounced me in a review of one of my books as a perfect example of
the obsolete man who could understand and sympathize only with the dead
past. But he, as I can now retort, was the man who could see so
short a distance ahead that after a visit to Russia he gave voice to
the famous exclamation: "I have seen the future and it works".

The favorite excuse of those who have now recanted their approval
of communism is that they did not know how things would develop. With
this excuse I have never been much impressed. There was, it seems
to me, enough in the openly declared principles and intentions of Russian
leaders to alienate honorable men without their having to wait
to see how it would turn out. Once many years ago I sat at dinner
next to Arthur Train, and the subject of the <Nation> came
up. He asked me suddenly, "What are <your> political opinions"?
"Well", I replied, "some of my colleagues on the paper regard
me as a rank reactionary". After a moment's thought he replied,
"That still leaves you a lot of latitude". And I suppose it
did. I never have been, and am not now, any kind of utopian. When
I first came across Samuel Johnson's pronouncement, "the remedy
for the ills of life is palliative rather than radical", it seemed
to me to sum up the profoundest of political and social truths. It
will probably explain more of my attitudes toward society than any
other phrase or principle could. ##

Why did I choose to fill these

pages in this particular issue with this mixture of rather tenuous
reflections and autobiography? The reason is, I think, my awareness
that my remarks last quarter on pacifism may well have served to confirm
the opinion of some that my tendency to skepticism and dissent gets
us nowhere, and that I am simply too old to hope. I would, however,
like to suggest that, wrong though I may be, the tendency to see
dilemmas rather than solutions is one of which I have been a victim ever
since I can remember, and therefore not merely a senile phenomenon.
I know that one must act. But one need not always be sure that the
action is either wise or conclusive. Apropos of what some would
call cynicism, I remember an anecdote the source of which I forget.
It concerns a small-town minister who staged an impressive object
lesson by confining a lion and a lamb together in the same cage outside
his church door. Not only his parishioners, but the whole town and,
ultimately, the whole county were enormously impressed by this object
lesson. One day he was visited by a delegation of would-be imitators
who wanted to know his secret. "How on earth do you manage it?
What is the trick"? "Why", he replied, "it is perfectly simple;
there is no trick involved. All you have to do is put in a fresh
lamb from time to time". Cynical? Blasphemous? Not really,
it seems to me. The promise that the lion and the lamb will lie down
together was given in the future tense. It is not something that can
be expected to happen now. ##

Without really changing the general

subject, I take this opportunity to confess that I am troubled by
doubts, not only about pacifism, but also when asked to join in the protest
against a law that most of those who consider themselves humane
and liberal seem to regard as obviously barbarous; namely, the law
that prescribes the death penalty for murder when there seem to be no
extenuating circumstances. It is not that I am unaware of the force
of their strongest contention. Life, they say, should be regarded as
sacred and, therefore, as something that neither an individual nor his
society has a right to take away. In fact I cannot imagine myself
condemning a man to the noose or the electric chair if I had to take,
as an individual, the responsibility for his death. Just as I know
I would make a bad soldier even though I cannot sincerely call myself
a pacifist, so too I would not be either a hangman by profession or,
if I could avoid it, even a member of a hanging jury. Despite these
facts the question "Should no murderer ever be executed"? seems
to me to create a dilemma not to be satisfactorily disposed of by a
simple negative answer. Punishment of the wrongdoer, so liberals
are inclined to say, can have only three possible justifications:
revenge, reformation or deterrent example.
For here if anywhere in contemporary literature is a major effort to
counterbalance Existentialism and restore some of its former lustre to
the tarnished image of the species Man, or, as Malraux himself puts
it, "to make men conscious of the grandeur they ignore in themselves".
#/1,#

Andre Malraux's <The Walnut Trees of Altenburg>

was written in the early years of the second World War, during
a period of enforced leisure when he was taken prisoner by the Germans
after the fall of France. The manuscript, presumably after being
smuggled out of the country, was published in Switzerland in 1943.
The work as it stands is not the entire book that Malraux wrote at that
time- it is only the first section of a three-part novel called
<La Lutte avec l'Ange;> and this first section was somehow preserved
(there are always these annoying little mysteries about the actual
facts of Malraux's life) when the Gestapo destroyed the rest.
If we are to believe the list of titles printed in Malraux's latest
book, <La Metamorphose des Dieux,> Vol& /1, (1957), he is
still
engaged in writing a large novel under his original title. But as he
remarks in his preface to <The Walnut Trees,> "a novel can hardly
ever be rewritten", and "when this one appears in its final form,
the form of the first part **h will no doubt be radically changed".
Malraux pretends, perhaps with a trifle too self-conscious a modesty,
that his fragmentary work will accordingly "appeal only to the
curiosity of bibliophiles"
and "to connoisseurs of what might have
been". Even in its present form, however, the first part of Malraux's
unrecoverable novel is among the greatest works of mid-twentieth
century literature; and it should be far better known than it is.

The theme of <The Walnut Trees of Altenburg> is most closely

related to its immediate predecessor in Malraux's array of novels:
<Man's Hope> (1937). This magnificent but greatly underestimated
book, which bodies forth the very form and pressure of its time
as no other comparable creation, has suffered severely from having
been written about an historical event- the Spanish Civil War-
that is still capable of fanning the smoldering fires of old political
feuds. Even so apparently impartial a critic as W& H& Frohock
has taken for granted that the book was originally intended as a piece
of Loyalist propaganda; and has then gone on to argue, with unimpeachable
consistency, that all the obviously non-propagandistic aspects
of the book are simply inadvertent "contradictions". Nothing,
however, could be farther from the truth. The whole purpose of
<Man's Hope> is to portray the tragic dialectic between means and
ends inherent in all organized political violence- and even when such
violence is a necessary and legitimate self-defense of liberty, justice
and human dignity. Nowhere before in Malraux's pages have we
met such impassioned defenders of a "quality of man" which transcends
the realm of politics and even the realm of action altogether-
both the action of Malraux's early anarchist-adventurers like Perken
and Garine, and the self-sacrificing action of dedicated Communists
like Kyo Gisors and Katow in <Man's Fate>. "Man engages
only a small part of himself in an action" says old Alvear the art-historian;
"and the more the action claims to be total, the smaller
is the part of man engaged". These lines never cease to haunt
the book amidst all the exaltations of combat, and to make an appeal for
a larger and more elemental human community than one based on the brutal
necessities of war. It is this larger theme of the "quality
of man", a quality that transcends the ideological and flows into
"the human", which now forms the pulsating heart of Malraux's
artistic universe. Malraux, to be sure, does not abandon the world
of violence, combat and sudden death which has become his hallmark as
a creative artist, and which is the only world, apparently, in which
his imagination can flame into life. <The Walnut Trees of Altenburg>
includes not one war but two, and throws in a Turkish revolution
along with some guerrilla fighting in the desert for good measure. But
while war still serves as a catalyst for the values that Malraux wishes
to express, these values are no longer linked with the triumph or
defeat of any cause- whether that of an individual assertion of the
will-to-power, or a collective attempt to escape from the humiliation
of oppression- as their necessary condition. On the contrary, the
frenzy and furor of combat is only the sombre foil against which the
sudden illuminations of the human flash forth with the piercing radiance
of a Caravaggio. #/2,#

<The Walnut Trees of Altenburg>

is composed in the form of a triptych, with the two small side panels
framing and enclosing the main central episode of the novel. This
central episode consists of a series of staccato scenes set in the period
from the beginning of the present century up to the first World War.
The framing scenes, on the other hand, both take place in the late
Spring of 1940, just at the moment of the defeat of France in the
second great world conflict. The narrator is an Alsatian serving with
the French Army, and he has the same name (Berger) that Malraux
himself was later to use in the Resistance; like Malraux he was also
serving in the tank corps before being captured, and we learn as well
that in civilian life he had been a writer. These biographical analogies
are obvious, and far too much time has been spent speculating
on their possible implications. Much more important is to grasp
the feelings of the narrator (whose full name is never given) as he
becomes aware of the disorganized and bewildered mass of French prisoners
clustered together in a temporary prison camp in and around the cathedral
of Chartres. For as his companions gradually dissolve back
into a state of primitive confrontation with elemental necessity, as they
lose all the appanage of their acquired culture, he is overcome by
the feeling that he is at last being confronted with the essence of mankind.
"As a writer, by what have I been obsessed these last ten
years, if not by mankind? Here I am face to face with the primeval
stuff". The intuition about mankind conveyed in these opening
pages is of crucial importance for understanding the remainder of
the text; and we must attend to it more closely than has usually been
done. What does the narrator see and what does he feel? A good many
pages of the first section are taken up with an account of the dogged
determination of the prisoners to write to their wives and families-
even when it becomes clear that the Germans are simply allowing
the letters to blow away in the wind. Awkwardly and laboriously, in stiff,
unemotional phrases, the soldiers continue to bridge the distance
between themselves and those they love; they instinctively struggle
to keep open a road to the future in their hearts. And by a skillful
and unobtrusive use of imagery (the enclosure is called a "Roman-camp
stockade", the hastily erected lean-to is a "Babylonian hovel",
the men begin to look like "Peruvian mummies" and to acquire
"Gothic faces"), Malraux projects a fresco of human endurance-
which is also the endurance of the human- stretching backward into
the dark abyss of time. The narrator feels himself catching a glimpse
of pre-history, learning of man's "age-old familiarity with misfortune",
as well as his "equally age-old ingenuity, his secret
faith in endurance, however crammed with catastrophes, the same faith
perhaps as the cave-men used to have in the face of famine".
This new vision of man that the narrator acquires is also accompanied
by a re-vision of his previous view. "I thought I knew more than
my education had taught me" notes the narrator, "because I had encountered
the militant mobs of a political or religious faith". Is
this not Malraux himself alluding to his own earlier infatuation with
the ideological? But now he knows "that an intellectual is not only
a man to whom books are necessary, he is any man whose reasoning,
however elementary it may be, affects and directs his life". From this
point of view the "militant mobs" of the past, stirred into action
by one ideology or another, were all composed of "intellectuals"-
and this is not the level on which the essence of mankind can be
discovered. The men around him, observes the narrator, "have been
living from day to day for thousands of years". The human is deeper
than a mass ideology, certainly deeper than the isolated individual;
and the narrator recalls the words of his father, Vincent Berger:
"It is not by any amount of scratching at the individual that one
finally comes down to mankind". The entire middle section
of <The Walnut Trees> is taken up with the life of Vincent Berger
himself, whose fragmentary notes on his "encounters with mankind"
are now conveyed by his son. "He was not much older than myself"
writes the narrator, "when he began to feel the impact of that human
mystery which now obsesses me, and which makes me begin, perhaps,
to understand him". For the figure of Vincent Berger Malraux has
obviously drawn on his studies of T& E& Lawrence (though Berger
fights on the side of the Turks instead of against them), and like
both Lawrence and Malraux himself he is a fervent admirer of Nietzsche.
A professor at the University of Constantinople, where his first
course of lectures was on Nietzsche and the "philosophy of action",
Vincent Berger becomes head of the propaganda department of the
German Embassy in Turkey. As an Alsatian before the first World
War he was of course of German nationality; but he quickly involves
himself in the Young Turk revolutionary movement to such an extent
that his own country begins to doubt his patriotism. And, after becoming
the right-hand man of Enver Pasha, he is sent by the latter
to pave the way for a new Turkish Empire embracing "the union of all
Turks throughout Central Asia from Adrianople to the Chinese oases
on the Silk Trade Route". Vincent Berger's mission
is a failure because the Ottoman nationalism on which Enver Pasha
counted does not exist. Central Asia is sunk in a somnolence from which
nothing can awaken it; and amid a dusty desolation in which nothing
human any longer seemed to survive, Vincent Berger begins to dream
of the Occident. "Oh for the green of Europe! Trains whistling
in the night, the rattle and clatter of cabs **h". Finally, after
almost being beaten to death by a madman- he could not fight back
because madmen are sacred to Islam- he throws up his mission and
returns to Europe. This has been his first encounter with mankind, and,
although he has now become a legendary figure in the popular European
press, it leaves him profoundly dissatisfied. Despite Berger's
report, Enver Pasha refuses to surrender his dream of a Turkish Blood
Alliance; and Vincent Berger learns that political ambition
is more apt to hide than to reveal the truth about men. But as he discovers
shortly, on returning among intellectuals obsessed by <le culte
du moi,> his experience of action had also taught him a more positive
lesson. "For six years my father had had to do too much commanding
and convincing" writes the narrator, "not to understand that man
begins with 'the other'". And when Vincent Berger returns
to Europe, this first result of his encounters with mankind is
considerably enriched and deepened by a crucial revelation. For a dawning
sense of illumination occurs in consequence of two events which,
as so often in Malraux, suddenly confront a character with the existential
question of the nature and value of human life. One such event
is the landing in Europe itself, when the mingled familiarity and strangeness
of the Occident, after the blank immensities of Asia, shocks
the returning traveller into a realization of the infinite <possibilities>
of human life.
In a pessimistic assessment of the cold war, Eden declared: "There
must be much closer unity within the West before there can be effective
negotiation with the East". Ordinary methods of diplomacy within
the free world are inadequate, said the former Prime Minister.
"Something much more thorough is required". Citing the experience
of the Combined Chiefs of Staff in World War /2,, Eden said
that all would have been confusion and disarray without them. "This",
he said, "is exactly what has been happening between the politically
free nations in the postwar world. We need joint chiefs of a political
general staff". Citing the advances of Communist power in
recent years, Sir Anthony observed: "This very grave state of
affairs will continue until the free nations accept together the reality
of the danger that confronts them and unite their policies and resources
to meet it". While I fully agree with Sir Anthony's
contention, I think that we must carry the analysis farther, bearing
in mind that while common peril may be the measure of our <need>,
the existence or absence of a positive sense of community must be the
measure of our <capacity>. While it is hazardous to project
the trend of history, it seems clear that a genuine community is painfully
emerging in the Western world, particularly among the countries
of Western Europe. At the end of World War /2,, free Europe was
ready for a new beginning. The excesses of nationalism had brought
down upon Europe a generation of tyranny and war, and a return to the
old order of things seemed unthinkable. Under these conditions a new
generation of Europeans began to discover the bonds of long association
and shared values that for so long had been subordinated to nationalist
xenophobia. A slow and painful trend toward unification has taken
hold, a trend which may at any time be arrested and reversed but which
may also lead to a binding federation of Europe. It may well be
that the unification of Europe will prove inadequate, that the survival
of free society will require nothing less than the confederation of
the entire Western world. The movement toward European unity
has been expressed in two currents: federalism and functionalism,
one looking to the constitution of a United States of Europe, the
other building on wartime precedents of practical coo^peration for the
solution of specific problems. Thus far the advances made have been
almost entirely along functional lines. Many factors contributed
to the growth of the European movement. In 1946 Sir Winston Churchill,
who had spoken often of European union during the war, advocated
the formation of "a kind of United States of Europe". Had
Churchill been returned to office in 1945, it is just possible that
Britain, instead of standing fearfully aloof, would have <led> Europe
toward union. In 1947 and 1948 the necessity of massive
coo^rdinated efforts to achieve economic recovery led to the formation
of the Organization for European Economic Coo^peration to supervise
and coo^rdinate the uses of American aid under the Marshall
Plan. The United States might well have exploited the opportunity
provided by the European Recovery Program to push the hesitant European
nations toward political federation as well as economic coo^peration,
but all proposals to this effect were rejected by the United
States Government at the time. Another powerful factor in
the European movement was the threat of Soviet aggression. The Communist
coup in Czechoslovakia in 1948 was followed immediately by the
conclusion of the Brussels Treaty, a 50-year alliance among Britain,
France and the Benelux countries. And of course the Soviet threat
was responsible for ~NATO, the grand alliance of the Atlantic
nations. New organs of unification proliferated in the decade
following the conclusion of the ~NATO alliance. In 1949 the Council
of Europe came into existence, a purely consultative parliamentary
body but the first organ of political rather than functional unity.
In 1952, the European Coal and Steel Community was launched,
placing the coal and steel production of France, West Germany, Italy
and Benelux under a supranational High Authority. For a time it
appeared that a common European army might be created, but the project
for a European Defense Community was rejected by the French National
Assembly in 1954. In 1957 the social-economic approach to European
integration was capped by the formation among "the Six" of
a tariff-free European Common Market, and Euratom for coo^peration
in the development of atomic energy. The "overseas" democracies
have generally encouraged the European unification movement
without seriously considering the wisdom of their own full participation
in a broader Atlantic community. The United States and Canada
belong only to ~NATO and the new O&E&C&D&. Britain
until recently went along in some areas with all of the enthusiasm of
the groom at a shotgun wedding. In other areas it held back, pleading
its Commonwealth bonds. Now Britain has decided to seek admission
to the European Economic Community and it seems certain that she will
be joined by some of her partners in the loose Free Trade Area
of the "Outer Seven". Besides its historical significance as a
break with the centuries-old tradition of British insularity, Britain's
move, if successful, will constitute an historic landmark of the
first importance in the movement toward the unification of Europe and
the Western world. If a broader Atlantic community is to
be formed- and my own judgment is that it lies within the realm of both
our needs and our capacity- a ready nucleus of machinery is at hand
in the ~NATO alliance. The time is now ripe, indeed overdue,
for the vigorous development of its non-military potentialities, for
its development as an instrument of Atlantic community. What is required
is the full implementation of Article 2 of the Treaty, which
provides: "The Parties will contribute toward the further development
of peaceful and friendly international relations by strengthening
their free institutions, by bringing about a better understanding of
the principles upon which these institutions are founded, and by promoting
conditions of stability and well-being. They will seek to eliminate
conflict in their international economic policies and will encourage
economic collaboration between any and all of them". As Lester
Pearson wrote in 1955: "~NATO cannot live on fear alone. It
cannot become the source of a real Atlantic community if it remains
organized to deal only with the military threat which first brought
it into being". The problem of ~NATO is not one of machinery,
of which there is an abundance, but of the will to use it. The
~NATO Council is available as an executive agency, the Standing
Group as a high military authority. The unofficial Conference of
Parliamentarians is available as a potential legislative authority.
This machinery will not become the instrument of an Atlantic community
by fiat, but only when that community evolves from potentiality to
reality. The existence of a community is a state of mind- a conviction
that goals and values are widely shared, that effective communication
is possible, that mutual trust is reasonably assured. An
equally promising avenue toward Atlantic community may lie through the
development and expansion of the O&E&C&D& Conceived as
an organ of economic coo^peration, there is no reason why O&E&C&D&
cannot evolve into a broader instrument of union if its members
so desire. Indeed it might be a more appropriate vehicle than ~NATO
for the development of a parliamentary organ of the Atlantic
nations, because it could encompass <all> of the members of the Atlantic
community including those, like Sweden and Switzerland, who
are unwilling to be associated with an essentially military alliance like
~NATO. Underlying these hopes and prescriptions is a
conviction that the nations of the North Atlantic area do indeed form
a community, at least a potential community. There is nothing new
in this; what is new and compelling is that the West is now but one
of several powerful civilizations, or "systems", and that one or
more of the others may pose a mortal danger to the West. For centuries
the North Atlantic nations dominated the world and as long as they
did they could afford the luxury of fighting each other. That time
is now past and the Atlantic nations, if they are to survive, must develop
a full-fledged community, and they must also look beyond the frontiers
of "Western civilization" toward a world-wide "concert of
free nations". #/6,#

The burden of these reflections is that

a broader unity among the free nations is at the core of our needs.
And if we do not aspire to too much, it is also within our capacity.
A realistic balancing of the need for new forms of international organization
on the one hand, and our capacity to achieve them on the other,
must be approached through the concept of "community". History
has demonstrated many times that concerts of nations based solely on
the negative spur of common danger are unlikely to survive when the external
danger ceases to be dramatically urgent. Only when a concert of
nations rests on the positive foundations of shared goals and values
is it likely to form a viable instrument of long-range policy. It follows
that the solution to the current disunity of the free nations is
only to a very limited extent a matter of devising new machinery of consultation
and coo^rdination. It is very much a matter of building
the foundations of community. It is for these reasons that proposals
for a "new world order", through radical overhaul of the United
Nations or through some sort of world federation, are utterly
fatuous. In a recent book called "World Peace Through World Law",
two distinguished lawyers, Grenville Clark and Louis Sohn, call
for just such an overhaul of the U&N&, basing their case on
the world-wide fear of a nuclear holocaust. I believe that these proposals,
however meritorious in terms of world needs, go far beyond our
capacity to realize them. Such proposals look to an apocalyptic act,
a kind of Lockian "social contract" on a world-wide scale. The
defect of these proposals is in their attempt to outrun history and their
assumption that because something may be desirable it is also possible.

A working concept of the organic evolution of community

must lead us in a different direction. The failures of the U&N&
and of other international organs suggest that we have already gone beyond
what was internationally feasible. Our problem, therefore, is to
devise processes more modest in their aspirations, adjusted to the real
world of sovereign nation states and diverse and hostile communities.
The history of the U&N& demonstrates that in a pluralistic
world we must develop processes of influence and persuasion rather than
coercion. It is possible that international organization will ultimately
supplant the multi-state system, but its proper function for the
immediate future is to reform and supplement that system in order to
render pluralism more compatible with an interdependent world.
New machinery of coo^rdination should not be our primary objective
in
the foreseeable future- though perhaps the "political general staff"
of Western leaders proposed by Sir Anthony Eden would serve
a useful purpose. Generally, however, there is an abundance of available
machinery of coo^rdination- in ~NATO, in O&E&C&D&,
in the U&N& and elsewhere. The trouble with this machinery
is that it is not used and the reason that it is not used is the absence
of a conscious sense of community among the free nations.
Our proper objective, then, is the development of a new spirit, the
realization of a potential community. A "concert of free nations"
should take its inspiration from the traditions of the nineteenth century
Concert of Europe with its common values and accepted "rules
of the game". Constitutions of and by themselves mean little; the
history of both the League of Nations and the United Nations demonstrates
that. But a powerful sense of community, even with little
or no machinery, means a great deal. That is the lesson of the nineteenth
century. A realistic "concert of free nations" might
be expected to consist of an "inner community" of the North Atlantic
nations and an "outer community" embracing much or all of the
non-Communist world.

THE recent experiments in the new poetry-and-jazz movement

seen by some as part of the "San Francisco Renaissance" have
been as popular as they are notorious. "It might well start a craze
like swallowing goldfish or pee wee golf", wrote Kenneth Rexroth
in an explanatory note in the <Evergreen Review>, and he may have
been right. Under the general heading "poetry-and-jazz" widely
divergent experiments have been carried out. Lawrence Ferlenghetti
and Bruce Lippincott have concentrated on writing a new poetry
for reading with jazz that is very closely related to both the musical
forms of jazz, and the vocabulary of the musician. Even musicians themselves
have taken to writing poetry. (Judy Tristano now has poems
as well as ballads written for her.) But the best known exploiters
of the new medium are Kenneth Rexroth and Kenneth Patchen. Rexroth
and Patchen are far apart musically and poetically in their experiments.
Rexroth is a longtime jazz buff, a name-dropper of jazz heroes,
and a student of traditional as well as modern jazz. In San Francisco
he has worked with Brew Moore, Charlie Mingus, and other
"swinging" musicians of secure reputation, thus placing himself within
established jazz traditions, in addition to being a part of the
San Francisco "School". Although Patchen has given previous
evidence of an interest in jazz, the musical group that he works
with, the Chamber Jazz Sextet, is often ignored by jazz critics. (<Downbeat>
did not mention the Los Angeles appearance of Patchen
and the Sextet, although the engagement lasted over two months.) The
stated goal of the ~CJS is the synthesis of jazz and "serious"
music. Patchen's musicians are outsiders in established jazz circles,
and Patchen himself has remained outside the San Francisco poetry
group, maintaining a self-imposed isolation, even though his conversion
to poetry-and-jazz is not as extreme or as sudden as it may first
appear. He had read his poetry with musicians as early as 1951, and
his entire career has been characterized by radical experiments with
the form and presentation of his poetry. However, his subject matter
and basic themes have remained surprisingly consistent, and these, together
with certain key poetic images, may be traced through all his
work, including the new jazz experiments. From the beginning of
his career, Patchen has adopted an anti-intellectual approach to poetry.
His first book, <Before the Brave> (1936), is a collection
of poems that are almost all Communistic, but after publication of this
book he rejected
Communism, and advocated a pacifistic anarchy, though
retaining his revolutionary idiom. He spoke for a "proletariat"
that included "all the lost and sick and hunted of the earth". Patchen
believes that the world is being destroyed by power-hungry and
money-hungry people. Running counter to the destroying forces in the
world are all the virtues that are innate in man, the capacity for love
and brotherhood, the ability to appreciate beauty. Beauty as well
as love is redemptive, and Patchen preaches a kind of moral salvation.
This salvation does not take the form of a Christian Heaven. In
Patchen's eyes, organized churches are as odious as organized governments,
and Christian symbols, having been taken over by the moneyed
classes, are now agents of corruption. Patchen envisions a Dark Kingdom
which "stands above the waters as a sentinel warning man of danger
from his own kind". The Dark Kingdom sends Angels of Death
and other fateful messengers down to us with stern tenderness. Actually
Heaven and the Dark Kingdom overlap; they form two aspects of
heavenly life after death. Patchen has almost never used strict
poetic forms; he has experimented instead with personal myth-making.
Much of his earlier work was conceived in terms of a "pseudo-anthropological"
myth reference, which is concerned with imaginary places
and beings described in grandiloquent and travelogue-like language.

These early experiments were evidently not altogether satisfying

to Patchen. Beginning in <Cloth of the Tempest> (1943) he experimented
in merging poetry and visual art, using drawings to carry long
narrative segments of a story, as in <Sleepers Awake>, and constructing
elaborate "poems-in-drawing-and-type" in which it is impossible
to distinguish between
the "art" and the poetry. Art "makings"
or pseudo-anthropological myths did not meet all of Patchen's requirements
for a poetic frame of reference. Many of his poems purported
to be exactly contemporary and political; so during the period approximately
from 1941 to 1946, Patchen often used private detective stories
as a myth reference, and the "private eye" as a myth hero. Speaking
in terms of sociological stereotype, the "private eye" might
appeal to the poet in search of a myth for many reasons. The private
detective (at least in the minds of listeners and readers all over
the country) is an individual hero fighting injustice. He is usually
something of an underdog, he must battle the organized police force as
well as recognized criminals. The private detective must rely, as the
Youngest Son or Trickster Hero does in primitive myth, on his wits.
The private detective is militant against injustice, a humorous
and ironic explorer of the underworld; most important to Patchen, he
was a non-literary hero, and very contemporary. In 1945, probably almost
every American not only knew who Sam Spade was, but had some
kind of emotional feeling about him. In <The Memoirs of a Shy Pornographer>
(1945) Patchen exploited this national sentiment by making
his hero, Albert Budd, a private detective. But since 1945,
Sam Spade has undergone a metamorphosis; he has become Friday
on <Dragnet>, a mouthpiece of arbitrary police authority. He has,
like so many other secular and religious culture symbols, gone over to
the side of the ruling classes. Obviously, the "private eye" can
have no more appeal for Patchen. To fill the job of contemporary hero
in 1955, Patchen needed someone else. It was logical that
he would come up with the figure of the modern jazz musician. The revolution
in jazz that took place around 1949, the evolution from the "bebop"
school of Dizzy Gillespie to the "cool" sound of Miles
Davis and Lennie Tristano, Lee Konitz, and the whole legend of
Charlie Parker, had made an impression on many academic and literary
men. The differentiation between the East Coast and West Coast schools
of jazz, the differences between the "hard bop" school of Rollins,
and the "cerebral" experiments of Tristano, Konitz and
Marsh, the general differences in the mores of white and negro musicians,
all had become fairly well known to certain segments of the public.
The immense amount of interest that the new jazz had for the younger
generation must have impressed him, and he began working toward the
merger of jazz and poetry, as he had previously attempted the union
of graphic art and poetry. In addition to his experiments in reading
poetry to jazz, Patchen is beginning to use the figure of the modern
jazz musician as a myth hero in the same way he used the figure of the
private detective a decade ago. In this respect, his approach to poetry-and-jazz
is in marked contrast to Kenneth Rexroth's. Rexroth
uses many of his early poems when he reads to jazz, including many of
his Chinese and Japanese translations; he usually draws some kind
of comparison with the jazz tradition and the poem he is reading-
for instance, he draws the parallel between a poem he reads about an Oriental
courtesan waiting for the man she loves, and who never comes,
and the old blues chants of Ma Rainy and other Negro singers- but
usually the comparison is specious. Rexroth may sometimes achieve an
effective juxtaposition, but he rarely makes any effort to capture any
jazz "feeling" in the text of his poems, relying on his very competent
musicians to supply this feeling. Patchen does read some
of his earlier works to music, but he has written an entire book of
short poems which seem to be especially suited for reading with jazz.
These new poems have only a few direct references to jazz and jazz musicians,
but they show changes in Patchen's approach to his poetry,
for he has tried to enter into and understand the emotional attitude
of the jazz musician. It is difficult to draw the line between
stereotype and the reality of the jazz musician. Everyone knows that
private detectives in real life are not like Sam Spade and Pat Novak,
but the real and the imaginary musician are closely linked. Seen
by the public, the musician is the underdog <par excellence>. He
is forced to play for little money, and must often take another job to
live. His approach to music is highly individualistic; the accent
is on improvisation rather than arrangements. While he is worldly, the
musician often cultivates public attitudes of childlike astonishment
and naivete. The musician is non-intellectual and non-verbal; he
is far from being a literary hero, yet is a creative artist. Many of
these aspects will be seen as comparable to those of the ideal detective,
but where the detective is active and militant, the jazz musician
is passive, almost a victim of society. In order to write with authority
either about musicians, or as a musician, Patchen would have to soft
pedal his characteristically outspoken anger, and change (at least
for the purposes of this poetry) from a revolutionary to a victim. He
must become one who knows all about the injustice in the world, but
who declines doing anything about it. This involves a shift in
Patchen's attitude and it is a first step toward writing a new jazz
poetry. He has shown considerable ingenuity in adapting his earliest
symbols and devices to the new work, and the fact that he has kept a
body of constant symbols through all of his experiments gives an unexpected
continuity to his poetry. Perhaps tracing some of these more important
symbols through the body of his work will show that Patchen's
new poetry is well thought out, and remains within the mainstream
of his work, while being suited to a new form. Henry Miller characterized
Patchen as a "man of anger and light". His revolutionary
anger is apparent in most of his early poems. The following passage
from "The Hangman's Great Hands" illustrates the directness
of this anger. "Anger won't help. I was born angry. Angry
that my father was being burnt alive in the mills; Angry that none
of us knew anything but filth and poverty. Angry because I was that
very one somebody was supposed To be fighting for". This
angry and exasperated stance which Patchen has maintained in his poetry
for almost fifteen years has been successfully modulated into a kind
of woe that is as effective as anger and still expresses his disapproval
of the modern world. In his recent book, <Hurray for Anything>
(1957), one of the most important short poems- and it is the title
poem for one of the long jazz arrangements- is written for recital
with jazz. Although it does not follow the metrical rules for a blues
to be sung, the phrases themselves carry a blues feeling. "I
WENT TO THE CITY And there I did Weep, Men a-crowing likes asses,
And living like sheep. <Oh, can't hold the han' of my love!
Can't hold her little white han!> Yes, I went to the city, And
there I did bitterly cry, Men out of touch with the earth, And
with never a glance at the sky. <Oh, can't hold the han' of my love!
Can't hold her pure little han'!>" Patchen is still
the rebel, but he writes in a doleful, mournful tone. Neither of these
poems is an aberration; each is so typical that it represents a prominent
trend in the poet's development. Patchen is repeatedly
preoccupied with death. In many of his poems, death comes by train:
a strongly evocative visual image. Perhaps Patchen was once involved
in a train accident, and this passage from <First Will and Testament>
may have been how the accident appeared to the poet when he
first saw it- if he did: " Lord love us, look at all the
disconnected limbs floating hereabouts, like bloody feathers at that-
and all the eyes are talking and all the hair are moving and all the
tongue are in all the cheek **h".

Let us see just how typical Krim is. He is New York-born

and Jewish. He spent one year at the University of North Carolina
because Thomas Wolfe went there. He returned to New York to work
for <The New Yorker,> to edit a Western pulp, to "duck the war
in the ~OWI", to write publicity for Paramount Pictures and
commentary for a newsreel, then he began his career as critic for various
magazines. Now he has abandoned all that to be A Writer. I do
not want to quibble about typicality; in a certain sense, one manner
of experience will be typical of any given group while another will
not.
But I've got news for Krim: he's not typical, he's pretty special.
His may typify a certain kind of postwar New York experience,
but his experience is certainly not typical of his "generation's".
In any case, who ever thought that New York is typical of anything?

Men of Krim's age, aspirations, and level of sophistication

were typically involved in politics before the war. They did
not "duck the war" but they fought in it, however reluctantly;
they sweated out some kind of formal education; they read widely and
eclectically;
they did not fall into pseudo-glamorous jobs on pseudo-glamorous
magazines, but they did whatever nasty thing they could get
in order to eat; they found out who they were and what they could do,
then within the limits of their talent they did it. They did not worry
about "experience", because experience thrust itself upon them.
And they traveled out of New York. Only a native New Yorker could
believe that New York is now or ever was a literary center. It
is a publishing and public relations center, but these very facts prevent
it from being a literary center because writers dislike provincialism
and untruth. Krim's typicality consists only in his New Yorker's
view that New York is the world; he displays what outlanders
call the New York mind, a state that the subject is necessarily unable
to perceive in himself. The New York mind is two parts abstraction
and one part misinformation about the rest of the country and in fact
the world. In his fulminating against the literary world, Krim is
really struggling with the New Yorker in himself, but it's a losing
battle. Closely related to his illusions about his typicality
is Krim's complicated feeling about his Jewishness. He writes,
"Most of my friends and I were Jewish; we were also literary;
the combination of the Jewish intellectual tradition and the sensibility
needed to be a writer created in my circle the most potent and
incredible intellectual-literary ambition I have ever seen or could ever
have imagined. Within themselves, just as people, my friends were
often tortured and unappeasably bitter about being the offspring of this
unhappily unique-ingrown-screwedup breed; their reading and thinking
gave
an extension to their normal blushes about appearing 'Jewish'
in subway, bus, racetrack, movie house, any of the public places that
used to make the Jew of my generation self-conscious (heavy thinkers
walking across Seventh Avenue without their glasses on, willing to
dare the trucks as long as they didn't look like the ikey-kikey caricature
of the Yiddish intellectual) **h". At other points in his
narrative, Krim associates Jewishness with unappeasable literary ambition,
with abstraction, with his personal turning aside from the good,
the true, and the beautiful of fiction in the manner of James T&
Farrell to the international, the false, and the inflated.
Krim says, in short, that he is a suffering Jew. The only possible
answer to that is, I am a suffering Franco-Irishman. We all love
to suffer, but some of us love to suffer more than others. Had Krim
gone
farther from New York than Chapel Hill, he might have discovered
that large numbers of American Jews do not find his New York version
of the Jews' lot remotely recognizable. More important is the
simple human point that all men suffer, and that it is a kind of
anthropological-religious
pride on the part of the Jew to believe that his suffering
is more poignant than mine or anyone else's. This is not to
deny the existence of pogroms and ghettos, but only to assert that these
horrors
have had an effect on the nerves of people who did not experience
them, that among the various side effects is the local hysteria
of Jewish writers and intellectuals who cry out from confusion, which
they call oppression and pain. In their stupidity and arrogance they
believe they are called upon to remind the gentile continually of pogroms
and ghettos. Some of us have imagination and sensibility too.
Finally, there is the undeniable fact that some of the finest American
fiction is being written by Jews, but it is not <Jewish> fiction;
Saul Bellow and Bernard Malamud, through intellectual toughness,
perception, through experience in fact, have obviously liberated
themselves from any sentimental Krim self-indulgence they might have
been tempted to. Krim's main attack is upon the aesthetic and
the publishing apparatus of American literary culture in our day.
Krim was able to get an advance for a novel, and time and opportunity
to write at Yaddo, but it was no good. "I had natural sock", he
says, 'as a storyteller and was precociously good at description, dialogue,
and most of the other staples of the fiction-writer's trade
but I was bugged by a mammoth complex of thoughts and feelings that
prevented me from doing more than just diddling the surface of sustained
fiction-writing". And again, "how can you write when you haven't
yet read 'Bartleby the Scrivener'"? Krim came to believe
that "the novel as a form had outlived its vital meaning". His
"articulate Jewish friends" convinced him that education (read "reading")
was "a must". He moved in a "highly intellectual"
group in Greenwich Village in the late forties, becoming "internationalized"
overnight. Then followed a period in which he wrote reviews
for <The New York Times Book Review, The Commonweal, Commentary,>
had a small piece in <Partisan Review,> and moved on
to <Hudson, The Village Voice,> and <Exodus>. The work for
<Commonweal>
was more satisfying than work for <Commentary> "because
of the staff's tiptoeing fear of making a booboo". <Commentary>
was a mere suburb of <Partisan Review,> the arch-enemy. Both
magazines were "rigid with <reactionary> what-will-T& S& Eliot-or-Martin
Buber-think? fear **h". <Partisan> has failed,
Krim says, for being "snob-clannish, overcerebral, Europeanish, aristocratically
alienated" from the U&S&. It was "the creation
of a monstrous historical period wherein it thought it had to synthesize
literature and politics and avant-garde art of every kind with
its writers crazily trying to outdo each other in Spenglerian inclusiveness
**h". <Kenyon, Sewanee,> and <Hudson> operated in an "Anglo-Protestant
New Critical chill"; their example caused Krim
and his friends to put on "Englishy airs, affect all sorts of
impressive
scholarship and social-register unnaturalness **h in order to
slip through their narrow transoms and get into their pages". <Qui
s'excuse s'accuse,> as the French Jewish intellectuals used
to say. Through all this raving, Krim is performing a traditional
and by now boring rite, the attack on intelligence, upon the largely
successful attempt of the magazines he castigates to liberate American
writing from local color and other varieties of romantic corn. God
knows that <Partisan> and the rest often were, and remain, guilty
of intellectual flatulence. Sociological jargon, Germano-Slavic
approximations to English, third-rate but modish fiction, and outrages
to common sense have often disfigured <Partisan,> and in lesser degree,
the other magazines on the list. What Krim ignores, in his contempt
for history and for accuracy, is that these magazines, <Partisan>
foremost, brought about a genuine revolution in the American mind
from the mid-thirties to approximately 1950. The most obvious characteristic
of contemporary American writing, apart from the beat nonsense,
is its cosmopolitanism. The process of cosmopolitanism
had begun in earnest about 1912, but the First War and the depression
virtually stalled that process in its tracks. Without the good magazines,
without their book reviews, their hospitality to European writers,
without above all their awareness of literary standards, we might
very well have had a generation of Krim's heroes- Wolfes, Farrells,
Dreisers, and I might add, Sandburgs and Frosts and MacLeishes
in verse- and then where would we be? Screwed, stewed, and tattooed,
as Krim might say after reading a book about sailors. When
<Partisan> and <Kenyon> set up shop, Mencken was still accepted
as an arbiter of taste (remember Hergesheimer?), George Jean Nathan
and Alexander Woollcott were honored in odd quarters, and the whole
Booth Tarkington, Willa Catheter (<sic>), Pearl Buck, Amy
Lowell, William Lyon Phelps atmosphere lay thick as Los Angeles
smog over the country. Politics, economics, sociology- the
entire area of life that lies between literature and what Krim calls
"experience"- urgently needed to be dug into. The universities
certainly were not doing it, nor were the popular magazines of the day.
This <Partisan> above all did; if it had never printed a word
of literature its contribution to the politico-sociological area would
still be historic. But it did print good verse and good fiction. If
the editors sometimes dozed and printed pretentious, New York-mind
dross, they also printed Malraux, Silone, Chiaromonte, Gide, Bellow,
Robert Lowell, Francis Fergusson, Mary McCarthy, Delmore
Schwartz, Mailer, Elizabeth Hardwick, Eleanor Clark, and a host
of other good writers. <Partisan Review> and the other literary magazines
helped to educate, in the best sense, an entire generation. That
these magazines also deluded the Krims of the world is unfortunate
but inevitable. It is a fact of life that magazines are edited by
groups: they have to be or they wouldn't be published at all. And
it is also a fact of life that there will always be youngish half-educated
people around who will be dazzled by the glitter of what looks like
a literary movement. (There are no literary movements, there are
only writers doing their work. Literary movements are the creation of
pimps who live off writers.) When Krim says "mine was as severe a
critical-intellectual environment as can be imagined", he is off his
rocker. He indicates that he has none of the disciplines that criticism
requires, including education; the result was his inevitable bedazzlement
through ignorance. He wasn't being educated in those Village
bull-sessions, as he claims. No one was ever educated through bull-sessions
in anything other than, to quote him again, "perfumed bullshit".
Only a New York hick would expect to find the literary
life in Greenwich Village at any point later than Walt Whitman's
day. The "highly intellectual **h minds" that Krim says he encountered
in the Village did their work in spite of, not because of, any
Village atmosphere. But Krim's complaint is important because not
only in New York, but in other cities and in universities throughout
this country, young and not so young men at this moment are being
bedazzled by half-digested ideas. Those who have quality will outgrow
the experience; the rest will turn beat, or into dentists, or into
beat dentists. For the sad truth is that while one might write
well without having read "Bartleby the Scrivener", one is more
likely to write well if one has read it, and much else. The most appalling
aspect of Krim's piece is his reflection of the beat aesthetic.
He mentions the beats only once, when he refers to their having "revived
through mere power and abandonment and the unwillingness to commit
death in life some idea of a decent equivalent between verbal expression
and actual experience **h", but the entire narrative is written
in the tiresome vocabulary of that lost and dying cause, and in the
sprung syntax that is supposed to supplant our mother tongue. Krim's
aesthetic combines anti-intellectualism, conscious and unconscious
nai^vete, and a winsome reliance upon the "natural" and upon "experience".
Ideas are the "thruway to nowhere". "My touchstones
**h had been strictly literature and, humanly enough, <American>
literature (because that was what I wanted to write)". He alludes
to something called "direct writing", and he finds that criticism
gets in the way of his "truer, realer, imaginative bounce".
There had been signs and portents like the regular toppling over and
defacing of the bust of Lauro di Bosis near the Villa Lante and in
the Gianicolo. Something was happening all right, slowly it
is true, but you could feel it. The Italians felt it. Little things.
An Italian poet had noticed plainclothes policemen lounging around
the area of Quirinal Palace, the first time since the war. At least
they hadn't stepped up and asked to see papers in the hated, flat,
dialect mispronunciation of Mussolini's home district- <Dogumenti,
per favore>. But, who knew, that might be coming one of these days.
There were other Italians who still bore scars they had earned
in police station basements, resisting. They laughed and, true to national
form and manners, never talked long or solemnly on any subject
at
all, but some of them worried out loud about short memories and ghosts.

We saw Giuseppe Berto at a party once in a while, tall, lean,

nervous and handsome, and, in our opinion, the best novelist of them
all except Pavese, and Pavese is dead. Berto's <The Sky Is
Red> had been a small masterpiece and in its special way the best book
to come out of the war. Now he was married to a beautiful girl, had
a small son, and lived in an expensive apartment and worked for the
movies. On his desk was a slowly accumulating treatment and script of
<The Count of Monte Cristo>. On his bookshelves were some of
the latest American novels, including Bellow's <Seize the Day,>
but he hadn't read them (they were sent by American publishers) and
wasn't especially interested in what the American writers were up
to. He was interested in Robert Musil's <The Man without Qualities>.
So were a lot of other people. He was interested in Italo
Svevo. He was thinking his way into a new novel, a big one, one that
people had been waiting for. It was going to be hard going all the
way because he hadn't written seriously for a while, except for a few
stories, was tired of the old method of <realismo> he had so successfully
used in <The Sky Is Red>. This one was going to be different.
He had bought a little piece of property down along the coast
of the hard country of Calabria that he knew so well. He was going
to do one or two more films for cash and then chuck it all, leave Rome
and its intellectual cliques and money-fed life, go back to Calabria.

Berto seemed worried, too. He knew all about it and had put
it down in journal form in <The War in a Black Shirt>, a wonderful
book not, for some strange reason, published in the U&S&. He
knew all about the appeal of a black shirt and jackboots to a poor,
southern, peasant boy. He knew all about the infection and the fever,
and, too, the moment of realization when he saw for himself, threw up
his hands and quit, ended the war as a prisoner in Texas. Berto knew
all about Fascism. So did his friend, the young novelist Rimanelli.
Rimanelli is tough and square-built and adventurous, says what he
thinks. He had put it down in a war novel, <The Day of the Lion>.
These people were not talking much about it, but you, a foreigner,
sensed their apprehension and disappointment. So there we were
talking around and about it. The English lady said she had to go
to Vienna for a while. It was a pity because she had planned to lay
a wreath at the foot of the Garibaldi statue, towering over Rome in
spectacular benediction from the highpoint of the Gianicolo. Around
that statue in the green park where children play and lovers walk in twos
and there is a glowing view of the whole city, in that park are the
rows of marble busts of Garibaldi's fallen men, the ones who one
day rushed out of the Porta San Pancrazio and, under fire all the way,
up the long, straight narrow lane to take, then lose the high ground
of the Villa Doria Pamphili. When they lost it, the French artillery
moved in, and that was the end for Garibaldi that time, on 30
April 1849. Once out of the gate they had charged straight up the narrow
lane. We had walked it many times and shivered, figuring what a
fish barrel it had been for the French. Now the park is filled with
marble busts and all the streets in the immediate area have the full and
proper names of the men who fell. We were at a party once and
heard an idealistic young European call that awful charge <glorious>.
Our companion was a huge, plain-spoken American sculptor who had
been a sixteen-year-old rifleman all across France in 1944. He said
it was stupid butchery to order men to make a charge like that, no
matter who gave the order and what for. "Oh, it would be butchery
all right",
the European said. "We would see it that way, but
it was glorious <then>. It was the last time in history anybody could
do something gloriously like that". I thought: Who is
older now? Old world and new world. The sculptor looked at
him, bugeyed and amazed, angry. He had made an assault once with 180
men. It was a picked assault company. They went up against an ~SS
unit of comparable size, over a little rise of ground, over an open
field. Object- a village crossroads. They made it, killed every last
one of the Krauts, took the village on schedule. When it was over,
eight of his company were still alive and all eight were wounded. The
whole thing, from the moment when they jumped heavily off the trucks,
spread out and moved into position just behind the cover of that slight
rise of ground and then jumped off, took maybe between twenty and
thirty minutes. The sculptor looked at him, let the color drain out
of his face, grinned, and looked down into his drink, a bad Martini
made with raw Italian gin. "Bullshit", he said softly.

"Excuse me", the European said. "I am not familiar with

the expression". The apartment where we were talking that afternoon
in March faced onto the street Garibaldi's men had charged
up and along. Across the way from the apartment building is a ruined
house, shot to hell that day in 1849, and left that way as a memorial.
There is a bronze wreath on the wall. Like everything else in Rome,
ruins and monuments alike, that house is lived in. I have seen diapers
strung across the ruined roof. The English lady really
wanted to put a wreath on the Garibaldi monument on the 30th of April.
She had her reasons for this. For one thing, there wasn't going
to be any ceremony at all this year. There were a few reasons for that,
too: Garibaldi had been taken up and exploited by the Communists
nowadays. Therefore the government wanted no part of him. (It is
sort of as if our government should decide to disown Washington or Lincoln
for the same reason.) And then there were ecclesiastical matters,
the matter of Garibaldi's anti-clericalism. There was a new Pope
and the Vatican was making itself heard and felt these days. As
it happens the English lady is a good Catholic herself, but of more
liberal political persuasion. Nothing was going to be done this year
to celebrate Garibaldi's bold and unsuccessful defense of Rome. All
that the English lady wanted to do was to walk up to the monument
and lay a wreath at its base. This would show that somebody, even a foreigner
living in Rome, cared. And then there were other things. Some
of the marble busts in the park are of young Englishmen who fought
and died for Garibaldi. She also mentioned leaving a little bunch
of flowers at the bust of Lauro di Bosis. It is hard for me
to know how I feel about Lauro di Bosis. I suffer from mixed feelings.
He was a well-to-do, handsome, and sensitive young poet. His bust
shows an intense, mustached, fine-featured face. He flew over Rome
one day during the early days of Mussolini and scattered leaflets over
the city, denouncing the Fascists. He was never heard of again.
He is thought either to have been killed by the Fascists as soon as
he landed or to have killed himself by flying out to sea and crashing
his plane. He was, thus, an early and spectacular victim. And there
is something so wonderfully romantic about it all. He really didn't
know how to fly. He had crashed on take off once before. Gossip had
it (for gossip is the soul of Rome) that a famous American dancer
of the time had paid for both the planes. It was absurd and dramatic.
It is remembered and has been commemorated by a bust in a park and a
square in the city which was renamed Piazzo Lauro di Bosis after the
war. Most Romans, even some postmen, know it by the old name.

Faced with a gesture like Di Bosis', I find usually that my

sentiments are closer to those of my sculptor friend. The things that
happened in police station basements were dirty, grubby, and most often
anonymous. No poetry, no airplanes, no dancers. That is how the real
routine of resistance goes on, and its strength is directly proportionate
to the number of insignificant people who can let themselves be
taken to pieces, piece by piece, without quitting. It is an ugly business
and there are few, if any, wreaths for them. I keep thinking
of a young woman I knew during the Occupation in Austria. She was
from Prague. She had been picked up by the Russians, questioned in
connection with some pamphlets, sentenced to life imprisonment for espionage.
She escaped, crawled through the usual mine fields, under barbed
wire, was shot at, swam a river, and we finally picked her up in Linz.
She showed us what had happened to her. No airplanes, no Nathan
Hale statements. Just no spot, not even a dimesize spot, on her whole
body that wasn't bruised, bruise on top of bruise, from beatings.
I understand very well about Lauro di Bosis and how his action
is symbolic. The trouble is that like many symbols it doesn't seem
a very realistic one. The English lady wanted to pay tribute
to Garibaldi and to Lauro di Bosis, but she wasn't going to be here
to do it. Were any of us interested enough in the idea to do it for
her, by proxy so to speak? There was a pretty thorough silence at
that point. My spoon stirring coffee, banging against the side of the
cup, sounded as loud as a bell. I thought: What the hell? Why
not? I said I would do it for her. I had some reasons, too.
I admire the English lady. I hate embarrassing silences and have
been known to make a fool out of myself just to prevent one. I also
had and have feelings about Garibaldi. Like every Southerner I can't
escape the romantic tradition of brave defeats, forlorn lost causes.
Though Garibaldi's fight was small shakes compared to Pickett's
Charge- which, like all Southerners, I view in almost Miltonic
terms, fallen angels, etc&- I associated the two. And to top
it all I am often sentimental on purpose, trying to prove to myself
that I am not <afraid of sentiment>. So much for all that.
The English lady was pleased and enthusiastic. She gave me the names
of some people who would surely help pay for the flowers and might even
march up to the monument with me. The idea of the march pleased her.
Maybe twenty, thirty, fifty. **h Maybe I could call Rimanelli
at the magazine <Rottosei> where he worked.

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~SBA offers Administrative Management Courses, which are designed

to improve the management efficiency and "know-how" of small
business concerns within a community. ~SBA cosponsors these courses
with educational institutions and community groups. Through
the ~SBA's Management Counseling Program, practical, personalized
advice on sound management principles is available upon request
to both prospective and established businessmen in a community. One-day
conferences covering some specific phase of business management,
also part of the continuing activities of the Small Business Administration,
aid community economic development programs. These short, "streamlined"
meetings usually are sponsored by local banks, Chambers
of Commerce, trade associations, or other civic organizations. _PRODUCT
RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT_ Production specialists in ~SBA
regional offices are available to help individual small business concerns
with technical production problems. Guidance and advice are available
on new product research and development; new product potential;
processing methods; product and market developments; new industrial
uses for raw, semi-processed and waste, materials; and industrial
uses
for agricultural products. ~SBA serves also as a clearing
house for information on products and processes particularly adaptable
for exploitation by small firms. This may be helpful in improving the
competitive position of established firms through diversification and
expansion or through more economical utilization of plant capacity.
_PRODUCTION ASSISTANCE_ Production specialists are available in
~SBA regional offices to help individual small business concerns
with technical production problems. These problems frequently arise
where a firm is making items for the Government not directly along the
lines of its normal civilian business or where the Government specifications
require operations that the firm did not understand when it
undertook the contract. Production assistance often takes the form of
locating tools or materials which are urgently needed. Advice is given
also on problems of plant location and plant space. _PROPERTY SALES
ASSISTANCE_ The property sales assistance program is designed to
assist small business concerns that may wish to buy property offered
for sale by the Federal Government. Under this program, property sales
specialists in the Small Business Administration regional offices
help small business concerns to locate Federal property for sale and
insure that small firms have the opportunity to bid competitively for
surplus personal and real property and certain natural resources, including
timber from the national forests. ~SBA works closely
with the principal property disposal installations of the Federal
Government in reviewing proposed sales programs and identifying those
types of property that small business concerns are most likely to be
interested in purchasing. Proposed property sales of general interest
to small business concerns are publicized through ~SBA regional
news releases, and by "flyers" directed to the small business concerns.
Each ~SBA regional office also maintains a "want" list
of surplus property, principally machinery and equipment, desired by
small business concerns in its area. When suitable equipment is located
by the ~SBA representative, the small business concern is contacted
and advised on when, where, and how to bid on such property.
_FACILITIES INVENTORY_ Section 8 (~b) (2) of the Small Business
Act, as amended, authorizes the ~SBA to make a complete inventory
of the productive facilities of small business concerns. The Administration
maintains a productive facilities inventory of small business
industrial concerns that have voluntarily registered. It is kept
in each Regional office for the small firms within the region. Purpose
of this inventory is to include all eligible productive facilities
in ~SBA's facilities register so that the small business concerns
may have an opportunity to avail themselves of the services authorized
by the Congress in establishing the Small Business Administration.
These services include procurement and technical assistance and
notice of surplus sales and invitations to bid on Government contracts
for products and services within the registrants' field of operations.
~SBA can make complete facilities inventories of all small business
concerns in labor surplus areas within budgetary and staff limitations.
_CONTACT_ For further information, contact Small Business
Administration Regional Offices in Atlanta, Ga&; Boston,
Mass&; Chicago, Ill&; Cleveland, Ohio; Dallas, Tex&;
Denver, Colo&; Detroit, Mich&; Kansas City, Mo&;
Los Angeles, Calif&; Minneapolis, Minn&; New York,
N&Y&; Philadelphia, Pa&; Richmond, Va&; San Francisco,
Calif&; and Seattle, Wash&. Branch Offices are located
in other large cities. _PRINTED MATERIAL_ <Small Business Administration,
What It Is, What It Does, ~SBA Services
for Community Economic Development>, and various other useful publications
on currently important management, technical production, and
marketing topics are available, on request, from Small Business Administration,
Washington 25, D&C&. <New Product Introduction
for Small Business Owners>, 30 cents; <Developing and Selling
New Products>, 45 cents; <U&S& Government Purchasing,
Specifications, and Sales Directory>, 60 cents, are available from
the Superintendent of Documents, U&S& Government Printing
Office, Washington 25, D&C&.

#LOANS#

_TO SMALL BUSINESS_

~SBA makes loans to individual small business firms, providing
them with financing when it is not otherwise available through private
lending sources on reasonable terms. Many such loans have been made
to establish small concerns or to aid in their growth, thereby contributing
substantially to community development programs. _LOAN POLICIES._
~SBA loans, which may be made to small manufacturers, small
business pools, wholesalers, retailers, service establishments and
other small businesses (when financing is not otherwise available to them
on reasonable terms), are to finance business construction, conversion,
or expansion; the purchase of equipment, facilities, machinery,
supplies, or materials; or to supply working capital. Evidence that
other sources of financing are unavailable must be provided. _TYPES
OF LOANS._ ~SBA business loans are of two types: "participation"
and "direct". Participation loans are those made jointly
by the ~SBA and banks or other private lending institutions. Direct
loans are those made by ~SBA alone. To qualify for either
type of loan, an applicant must be a small business or approved small
business "pool" and must meet certain credit requirements. A small
business is defined as one which is independently owned and operated
and which is not dominant in its field. In addition, the ~SBA
uses such criteria as number of employees and dollar volume of the business.
_CREDIT REQUIREMENTS._ The credit requirements stipulate that
the applicant must have the ability to operate the business successfully
and have enough capital in the business so that, with loan assistance
from the ~SBA, it will be able to operate on a sound financial
basis. A proposed loan must be for sound purposes or sufficiently
secured so as to assure a reasonable chance of repayment. The record
of past earnings and prospects for the future must indicate it has the
ability to repay the loan out of current and anticipated income. _LOAN
AMOUNT._ The amount which may be borrowed from the ~SBA
depends on how much is required to carry out the intended purpose of the
loan. The maximum loan which ~SBA may make to any one borrower
is $350,000. Business loans generally are repayable in regular installments-
usually monthly, including interest at the rate of 5-1/2 percent
per annum on the unpaid balance- and have a maximum maturity
of 10 years; the term of loans for working capital is 6 years. _CONTACT_
For further information, contact ~SBA Regional Offices
in Atlanta, Ga&; Boston, Mass&; Chicago, Ill&; Cleveland,
Ohio; Dallas, Tex&; Denver, Colo&; Detroit, Mich&;
Kansas City, Mo&; Los Angeles, Calif&; Minneapolis,
Minn&; New York, N&Y&; Philadelphia, Pa&;
Richmond, Va&; San Francisco, Calif&; and Seattle, Wash&.
Branch Offices are located in other large cities. _PRINTED MATERIAL_
<Small Business Administration, What It Is, What It
Does; ~SBA Business Loans;> and <Small Business
Pooling> are available, on request, from Small Business Administration,
Washington 25, D&C&, and its regional offices. _TO COOPERATIVES_
The Farm Credit Administration, an independent agency
located within the Department of Agriculture, supervises and coordinates
a cooperative credit system for agriculture. The system is composed
of three credit services, Federal Land Banks and National Farm
Loan Associations, Federal Intermediate (short-term) Credit Banks,
and Banks for Cooperatives. This system provides long- and short-term
credit to farmers and their cooperative marketing, purchasing,
and business service organizations. As a source of investment
capital, the system is beneficial to local communities and encourages
the development of industries in rural areas. The credit provdied
by the first two services in the system outlined above is primarily for
general agricultural purposes. The third credit service, Banks for
Cooperatives, exists under authority of the Farm Credit Act of 1933.
The Banks for Cooperatives were established to provide a permanent
source of credit on a sound basis for farmers' cooperatives. _TYPES
OF LOANS._ Three distinct classes of loans are made available
to farmers' cooperatives by the Banks for Cooperatives: Commodity
loans, operating capital loans, and facility loans. _ELIGIBILITY._
To be eligible to borrow from a Bank for Cooperatives, a cooperative
must be an association in which farmers act together in processing
and marketing farm products, purchasing farm supplies, or furnishing
farm business services, and must meet the requirements set forth
in the Farm Credit Act of 1933, as amended. _INTEREST RATES._
Interest rates are determined by the board of directors of the bank with
the approval of the Farm Credit Administration. _CONTACT_ For
further information, contact the Bank for Cooperatives serving the
region, or the Farm Credit Administration, Research and Information
Division, Washington 25, D&C&. _PRINTED MATERIAL_ Available,
on request, from U&S& Department of Agriculture, Washington
25, D&C&, are: <Cooperative Farm Credit Can Assist
in Rural Development> (Circular No& 44), and <The Cooperative
Farm Credit System> (Circular No& 36-~A).
#MINERALS
EXPLORATION#

To encourage exploration for domestic sources of minerals,

the Office of Minerals Exploration (~OME) of the U&S&
Department of the Interior offers financial assistance to firms
and individuals who desire to explore their properties or claims for
1 or more of the 32 mineral commodities listed in the ~OME regulations.
_REQUIREMENTS_ This help is offered to applicants who ordinarily
would not undertake the exploration under present conditions or
circumstances at their sole expense and who are unable to obtain funds
from commercial sources on reasonable terms. Each applicant is required
to own or have sufficient interest in the property to be explored.
The Government will contract with an eligible applicant to pay up
to one-half of the cost of approved exploration work as it progresses.
The applicant pays the rest of the cost, but his own time spent on the
work and charges for the use of equipment which he owns may be applied
toward his share of the cost. _REPAYMENT_ Funds contributed by
the Government are repaid by a royalty on production from the property.
If nothing is produced, there is no obligation to repay. A 5-percent
royalty is paid on any production during the period the contract
is in effect; if the Government certifies that production may be
possible from the property, the royalty obligation continues for the
10-year period usually specified in the contract or until the Government's
contribution is repaid with interest. The royalty applies to
both principal and interest, but it never exceeds 5 percent. _CONTACT_
Information, application forms, and assistance in filing may be
obtained from the Office of Minerals Exploration, U&S& Department
of the Interior, Washington 25, D&C&, or from the appropriate
regional office listed below:

In most of the less developed countries, however, such programing

is at best inadequate and at worst nonexistent. Only a very few of
the more advanced ones, such as India and Pakistan, have developed
systematic techniques of programing. Others have so-called development
plans, but some of these are little more than lists of projects
collected from various ministries while others are statements of goals
without analysis of the actions required to attain them. Only rarely
is attention given to accurate progress reports and evaluation. _WE
CAN HELP IN THE PLANNING PROCESS_ Neither growth nor a development
program can be imposed on a country; it must express the nation's
own will and goal. Nevertheless, we can administer an aid program
in such a manner as to promote the development of responsible programing.

<First>, we can encourage responsibility by establishing

as conditions for assistance on a substantial and sustained scale the
definition of objectives and the assessment of costs. <Second>,
we can make assistance for particular projects conditional on
the consistency of such projects with the program. <Third>,
we can offer technical help in the formulation of programs for development
which are adapted to the country's objectives and resources. This
includes assistance in- **h assembling the basic economic, financial,
technological, and educational information on which programing depends;
**h surveying the needs and requirements over time of broad
sectors of the economy, such as transport, agriculture, communication,
industry, and power; **h designing the financial mechanisms of the
economy in ways that will promote growth without inflation; and **h
administrative practices which will make possible the more effective
review and implementation of programs once established. _WE MUST USE
COMMON SENSE IN APPLYING CONDITIONS_ The application of conditions
in the allocation
of aid funds cannot, of course, be mechanical. It must
be recognized that countries at different stages of development have
very different capabilities of meeting such conditions. To insist
on a level of performance in programing and budgeting completely beyond
the capabilities of the recipient country would result in the frustration
of the basic objective of our development assistance to encourage
more rapid growth. In the more primitive areas, where the capacity
to absorb and utilize external assistance is limited, some activities
may be of such obvious priority that we may decide to support them
before a well worked out program is available. Thus, we might provide
limited assistance in such fields as education, essential transport,
communications, and agricultural improvement despite the absence of
acceptable country programs. In such a case, however, we would encourage
the recipient country to get on with its programing task, supply
it with substantial technical assistance in performing that task, and
make it plain that an expansion or even a continuation of our assistance
to the country's development was conditional upon programing progress
being made. At the other end of the spectrum, where the
more advanced countries can be relied upon to make well thought through
decisions as to project priorities within a consistent program, we should
be prepared to depart substantially from detailed project approval
as the basis for granting assistance and to move toward long-term support,
in cooperation with other developed countries, of the essential
foreign exchange requirements of the country's development program.

#D. ENCOURAGING SELF-HELP#

_1. THE REASONS FOR STRESSING SELF-HELP_

A systematic approach to development budgeting and programing
is one important kind of self-help. There are many others. It is vitally
important that the new U&S& aid program should encourage all
of them, since the main thrust for development must come from the less
developed countries themselves. External aid can only be marginal,
although the margin, as in the case of the Marshall plan, can be decisive.
External aid can be effective only if it is a complement to self-help.
U&S& aid, therefore, should increasingly be designed to
provide incentives for countries to take the steps that only they themselves
can take. _AID ADVICE IS NOT INTERFERENCE_ In establishing
conditions of self-help, it is important that we not expect countries
to remake themselves in our image. Open societies can take many forms,
and within very broad limits recipients must be free to set their
own goals and to devise their own institutions to achieve those goals.
On the other hand, it is no interference with sovereignty to point
out defects where they exist, such as that a plan calls for factories
without power to run them, or for institutions without trained personnel
to staff them. Once we have made clear that we are genuinely concerned
with a country's development potential, we can be blunt in suggesting
the technical conditions that must be met for development to occur.
_2. THE RANGE OF SELF-HELP_ The major areas of self-help
are the following: _(A) THE EFFECTIVE MOBILIZING OF RESOURCES._
This includes not only development programing, but also establishing
tax policies designed to raise equitably resources for investment;
fiscal and monetary policies designed to prevent serious inflation;
and regulatory policies aimed to attract the financial and managerial
resources of foreign investment and to prevent excessive luxury
consumption by a few. _(B) THE REDUCTION OF DEPENDENCE ON EXTERNAL
SOURCES._ This includes foreseeing balance-of-payments crises,
with adequate attention to reducing dependence on imports and adopting
realistic exchange rates to encourage infant industries and spur exports.
It also includes providing for the training of nationals to operate
projects after they are completed. _(C) TAPPING THE ENERGIES OF
THE ENTIRE POPULATION._ For both economic and political reasons
all segments of the population must be able to share in the growth
of a country. Otherwise, development will not lead to longrun stability.
_(D) HONESTY IN GOVERNMENT._ In many societies, what we
regard as corruption, favoritism, and personal influence are so accepted
as consistent with the mores of officialdom and so integral a part
of
routine administrative practice that any attempt to force their elimination
will be regarded by the local leadership as not only unwarranted
but unfriendly. Yet an economy cannot get the most out of its resources
if dishonesty, corruption, and favoritism are widespread. Moreover,
tolerance by us of such practices results in serious waste and diversion
of aid resources and in the long run generates anti-American
sentiment of a kind peculiarly damaging to our political interest. Some
of the most dramatic successes of communism in winning local support
can be traced to the identification- correct or not- of Communist
regimes with personal honesty and pro-Western regimes with corruption.
A requirement of reasonably honest administration may be politically
uncomfortable in the short run, but it is politically essential
in the long run. _3. U&S& POSITION ON SELF-HELP_ The United
States can use its aid as an incentive to self-help by responding with
aid on a sustained basis, tailored to priority needs, to those countries
making serious efforts in self-help. In many instances it
can withhold or limit its aid to countries not yet willing to make such
efforts. There are other countries where, with skillful diplomacy,
we may be able by our aid to give encouragement to those groups
in government which would like to press forward with economic and social
reform measures to promote growth. Governments are rarely monolithic.

But there will be still other countries where, despite

the inadequacy of the level of self-help, we shall deem it wise, for political
or military reasons, to give substantial economic assistance.
Even in these cases we should promote self-help by making it clear that
our supporting assistance is subject to reduction and ultimately to
termination.

#E. ENCOURAGING A LONG-TERM APPROACH#

_1. DEVELOPMENT
REQUIRES A LONG-TERM APPROACH_ The most fundamental concept of
the new approach to economic aid is the focusing of our attention, our
resources, and our energies on the effort to promote the economic and
social development of the less developed countries. This is not a short-run
goal. To have any success in this effort, we must ourselves view
it as an enterprise stretching over a considerable number of years,
and we must encourage the recipients of our aid to view it in the same
fashion. _MOST OF OUR AID WILL GO TO THOSE NEARING SELF-SUFFICIENCY_
How long it will take to show substantial success in this effort
will vary greatly from country to country. In several significant cases,
such as India, a decade of concentrated effort can launch these
countries into a stage in which they can carry forward their own economic
and social progress with little or no government-to-government assistance.
These cases in which light is already visible at the other
end of the tunnel are ones which over the next few years will absorb
the bulk of our capital assistance. _GRADUALLY OTHERS WILL MOVE UP TO
THE SAME LEVEL_ The number of countries thus favorably situated is
small, but their peoples constitute over half of the population of the
underdeveloped world. Meantime, over the decade of the sixties, we
can hope that many other countries will ready themselves for the big
push into self-sustaining growth. In still others which are barely on
the threshold of the transition into modernity, the decade can bring
significant progress in launching the slow process of developing their
human resources and their basic services to the point where an expanded
range of developmental activities is possible. _AID IS A LONG-TERM
PROCESS_ The whole program must be conceived of as an effort, stretching
over a considerable number of years, to alter the basic social
and economic conditions in the less developed world. It must be recognized
as a slow-acting tool designed to prevent political and military
crises such as those recently confronted in Laos and Cuba. It is
not a tool for dealing with these crises after they have erupted. _2.
THE SPECIFIC REASONS FOR A LONG-TERM APPROACH_ _(A) THE NEED TO
BUDGET A PERIOD OF YEARS._ Many of the individual projects for
which development assistance is required call for expenditures over lengthy
periods. Dams, river development schemes, transportation networks,
educational systems require years to construct. Moreover, on complex
projects, design work must be completed and orders for machinery
and equipment placed months or even years before construction can commence.
Thus, as a development program is being launched, commitments and
obligations must be entered into in a given year which may exceed by
twofold or threefold the expenditures to be made in that year. The
capital expansion programs of business firms involve multi-year budgeting
and the same is true of country development programs. _(B) THE NEED
TO PLAN INVESTMENT PROGRAMS._ More importantly, several of
the more advanced of the less developed countries have found through
experience that they must plan their own complex investment programs for
at least 5 years forward and tentatively for considerably more than
that if they are to be sure that the various interdependent activities
involved are all to take place in the proper sequence. Without such
forward planning, investment funds are wasted because manufacturing facilities
are completed before there is power to operate them or before
there is transport to service them; or a skilled labor force is trained
before there are plants available in which they can be employed.
_(C) THE NEED TO ALLOCATE COUNTRY RESOURCES._ Most important
of all, the less developed countries must be persuaded to take the necessary
steps to allocate and commit their own resources. They must
be induced to establish the necessary tax, fiscal, monetary, and regulatory
policies. They must be persuaded to adopt the other necessary self-help
measures which are described in the preceding section. The taking
of these steps involves tough internal policy decisions. Moreover,
once these steps are taken, they may require years to make themselves
felt. They must, therefore, be related to long-range development
plans. _3. PROVIDING AN INCENTIVE_ If the less developed countries
are to be persuaded to adopt a long-term approach, the United States,
as the principal supplier of external aid, must be prepared to give
long-term commitments. In this, as in so many aspects of our development
assistance activities, the incentive effects of the posture we take
are the most important ones. The extent to which we can persuade
the less developed countries to appraise their own resources, to set targets
toward which they should be working, to establish in the light
of this forward
perspective the most urgent priorities for their immediate
attention, and to do the other things which they must do to help themselves,
all on a realistic long-term basis, will depend importantly
on the incentives we place before them. If they feel that we are taking
a long-term view of their problems and are prepared to enter into
reasonably long-term association with them in their development activities,
they will be much more likely to undertake the difficult tasks required.
Perhaps the most important incentive for them will be clear
evidence that where other countries have done this kind of home work we
have responded with long-term commitments.

You have heard him tell these young people that during his almost
50 years of service in the Congress he has seen the Kaisers and
the Hitlers and the Mussolinis, the Tojos and Stalins and Khrushchevs,
come and go and that we are passing on to them the freest Nation
that mankind has ever known. Then I have seen the pride of country
well in the eyes of these young people. So, I say, Mr& Speaker,
God bless you and keep you for many years not only for this body
but for the United States of America and the free world. You remember
the words of President Kennedy a week or so ago, when someone
asked him when he was in Canada, and Dean Rusk was in Europe, and
Vice President JOHNSON was in Asia, "Who is running the
store"? and he said "The same fellow who has been running it, SAM
RAYBURN".

#GENERAL LEAVE TO EXTEND#

_MR& MCCORMACK._
Mr& Speaker, I ask unanimous consent that all Members who desire
to do so may extend their remarks at this point in the RECORD;
and also that they may have 5 legislative days in which to extend
their remarks. _THE SPEAKER PRO TEMPORE._ Is there objection
to the request of the gentleman from Massachusetts? There was
no objection.

#REMARKS OF HON& JOSEPH P& ADDABBO OF NEW YORK#

_MR& ADDABBO._ It is notably significant that so many Members

from both sides of the aisle express their respect and admiration for
our beloved Speaker, the Honorable SAM RAYBURN. I purposely
refrained from adding the usual distinction of saying that he was from
the State of Texas. I did so because I agree with so many here
today, that he is the beloved Speaker of all the people of the United
States. For the dignity, the influence, and the power of the legislative
branch of our Government- it is a privilege for us to do honor
to this great man who represents not alone his own district but all
the people of our country. To honor him is to honor ourselves.

In this my first year as a Member of this body I have experienced

many memorable moments. Many of these experiences are so important
that they will be cherished forever by me. And, like many of you here
present, I hold as the highlight of all, the occasion of my first meeting
with the honorable Speaker of the House. At that time, he afforded
me the courtesy of his busy workday for such length as I may need,
to speak about my background, my hopes, my views on various national
and local topics, and any problems that I may have been vexed with
at the time. He was fatherly in his handling of all subjects with me
and tremendously wise in his counsel. In conclusion, he wished me well-
and as kindly and humbly as this humane gentleman could express
himself, he asked to be remembered to my wife and children. In
my short period here I believe that at no time has he been otherwise
than the most popular man on both sides of the aisle. He is most effective
in the ordinary business of the House, and in the legislative
accomplishments of this session, he easily rose to great occasion- even
at the height of unpleasantness and exciting legislative struggle-
and as the Nation witnessed these contests, he rose, even as admitted
by those who differed with him, to the proportions of a hero and a
noble partisan. I am highly privileged today to commemorate the
brilliant career of this parliamentary giant. He will ever be my example
as a true statesman; one who is thoroughly human, who affects
no dignity, and who is endowed with real ability, genuine worth, and
sterling honesty- all dedicated to secure the best interests of the
country he has loved and served so long. May the Divine Speaker in
Heaven bless this country with SAM RAYBURN'S continued service
here for years to come.

#REMARKS OF HON& WAYNE L& HAYS OF OHIO#

_MR& HAYS._ It is a matter of deep personal satisfaction for

me to add my voice to the great and distinguished chorus of my colleagues
in this paean of praise, respect, and affection for Speaker SAM
RAYBURN. In this hour of crisis, the wisdom, the dedication, the
stabilizing force that he represents in current American government
is an almost indispensable source of strength. He has become in this
half century the grand old man of American history. It seems to me
that the prayers of the whole free world must rise like some vast petition
to Providence that SAM RAYBURN'S vigor and his life remain
undiminished through the coming decades. Here briefly in this
humble tribute I have sought for some simple and succinct summation
that would define the immense service of this patriot to his country.
But the task is beyond me because I hold it impossible to compress
in a sentence or two the complicated and prodigious contributions SAM
RAYBURN has made as an individual, as a legislator, as a statesman
and as a leader and conciliator, to the majestic progress of this
Nation. It happens that I am a legislator from Ohio and that I feel
deeply about the needs, the aspirations, the interests of my district
and my State. What SAM RAYBURN'S life proves to us all is
the magnificent lesson in political science that one can devotedly and
with absolute dedication represent the seemingly provincial interests
of one's own community, one's own district, one's own State,
and by that help himself represent even better the sweep and scope of
the problems of this the greatest nation of all time. For SAM
RAYBURN never forgot Bonham, his home community, and he never
forgot Texas. In the same way I like to think we owe our loyalty as
legislators to our community, our district, our State. And, if we
follow the RAYBURN pattern, as consciously or by an instinctual
political sense I like to think I have followed it, then the very nature
of our loyalty to our own immediate areas must necessarily be reflected
in the devotion of our services to our country. For what SAM
RAYBURN'S life in this House teaches us is that loyalty and character
are not divisive and there is no such thing as being for your
country and neglecting your district. There is no such thing as being
diligent about national affairs but indifferent about home needs. The
two are as one. This may not be the greatest but it certainly comes
close to being the greatest lesson SAM RAYBURN'S career, up to
this hour, teaches all of us who would aspire to distinction in political
life under our processes of government. More than that,
SAM RAYBURN is the very living symbol of an iron-clad integrity
so powerful in his nature and so constantly demonstrated that he can count
some of his best friends in the opposition. Through the most rancorous
battles of political controversy and the most bitterly fought national
and presidential campaigns his character shines as an example
of dignity and honesty, forthrightness and nobility. SAM RAYBURN
has never had to look back at any of his most devastating fights and
ever feel ashamed of his conduct as a combatant under fire or his political
manners in the heat of conflicting ambitions. This means much to
the American tradition. It is an answer in its way, individual and
highly dramatic, to the charge that the democratic process is necessarily
vicious in its campaign characteristics. And the name RAYBURN
is one of the most dominant in the history of American politics for
the last half century. It is, I insist, hard to define the
RAYBURN contribution to our political civilization because it is
so massive and so widespread and so complicated, and because it goes
so deep. But this we know: Here is a great life that in every area
of American politics gives the American people occasion for pride
and that has invested the democratic process with the most decent qualities
of honor, decency, and self-respect. I pray to God that he may
be spared to us for many years to come for this is an influence the United
States and the whole world can ill afford to lose.

#REMARKS
OF HON& MELVIN PRICE OF ILLINOIS#

_MR& PRICE._ All but two

of my nine terms in the House of Representatives has been served under
the Speakership of SAM RAYBURN. Of this I am proud. I have
a distinct admiration for this man we honor today because of the humility
with which he carries his greatness. And SAM RAYBURN
is a great man- one who will go down in American history as a truly
great leader of the Nation. He will be considered not only great
among his contemporaries, but as great among all the Americans who
have played a part in the country's history since the beginning.

I pay my personal tribute to SAM RAYBURN, stalwart Texan and

great American, not only because today he establishes a record of
having served as Speaker of the House of Representatives more than
twice as long as Henry Clay, but because of the contributions he has
made to the welfare of the people of the Nation during his almost half
century of service as a Member of Congress. Speaker RAYBURN
has not limited his leadership as a statesman to his direction
of the House in the Speaker's chair. He had an outstanding record
as a legislator since the start of his career in the House in 1913,
the 63d Congress. No one has sponsored more progressive and important
legislation than has SAM RAYBURN. He is the recognized "father"
of the Rural Electrification Administration and the Security
and Exchange Commission. But to run the gauntlet of the programs
SAM RAYBURN brought into being through his legislative efforts
would fill the pages of today's Record. No greater pleasure
has come to me in my own service in this House than to be present
today to participate in this tribute to this great Speaker, this great
legislator, this great Texan, this great American. My sincere
wish is that he continues to add to this record he sets here today.

#REMARKS OF HON& JOHN S& MONAGAN OF CONNECTICUT#

_MR& MONAGAN._
SAM RAYBURN is one of the greatest American public figures
in the history of our country and I consider that I have been
signally honored in the privilege of knowing SAM RAYBURN and sharing
with him the rights and obligations of a Member of the House of
Representatives in the Congress of the United States. Others
may speak of Speaker RAYBURN'S uniquely long and devoted
service; of his championship of many of the progressive social measures
which adorn our statute books today, and of his cooperation in times
of adversity with Presidents of both of our major parties in helping
to pilot the Ship of State through the shoals of today's stormy
international seas. I prefer to speak, however, of SAM RAYBURN,
the person, rather than SAM RAYBURN, the American institution.

Although SAM RAYBURN affects a gruff exterior in

many instances, nevertheless he is fundamentally a man of warm heart
and gentle disposition. No one could be more devoted than he to the
American Congress as an institution and more aware of its historical
significance in the political history of the world, and I shall never
forget his moving talks, delivered in simple yet eloquent words, upon
the meaning of our jobs as Representatives in the operation of representative
government and their importance in the context of today's
assault upon popular government. Above all, he is a person to
whom a fledgling Representative can go to discuss the personal and professional
problems which inevitably confront a new Congressman. In
this role of father confessor, he has always been most characteristic
and most helpful. On September 16, SAM RAYBURN will have
served as Speaker twice as long as any predecessor and I am proud
to join with others in marking this date, and in expressing my esteem
for that notable American, SAM RAYBURN.
_ORIGIN OF STATE AUTOMOBILE PRACTICES._ The practice of state-owned
vehicles for use of employees on business dates back over forty years.
At least one state vehicle was in existence in 1917. The
state presently owns 389 passenger vehicles in comparison to approximately
200 in 1940. The automobile maintenance unit, or motor pool,
came into existence in 1942 and has been responsible for centralized
maintenance and management of state-owned transportation since that
time. The motor pool has made exceptional progress in automotive
management including establishment of cost billing systems, records
keeping, analyses of vehicle use, and effecting economies in vehicle
operation. Cars were operated in 1959 for an average .027@ per mile.

Purchase of state vehicles is handled similarly to all state

purchases. Unit prices to the state are considerably lower than to
the general public because of quantity purchases and no payment of state
sales or federal excise taxes. _VEHICLE PURCHASE, ASSIGNMENT AND
USE POLICIES._ The legislature's role in policy determination concerning
state-owned vehicles has been confined almost exclusively to
appropriating funds for vehicles. The meaningful policies governing
the purchase, assignment, use and management of state vehicles have
been shaped by the state's administrative officers. Meaningful
policies include: (a) kinds of cars the state should own, (b)
when cars should be traded, (c) the need and assignment of vehicles,
(d) use of cars in lieu of mileage allowances, (e) employees taking cars
home, and (f) need for liability insurance on state automobiles.

A review of these policies indicates: _(1)_ The state purchases

and assigns grades of cars according to need and position status
of driver and use of vehicle. _(2)_ The purchase of compact (economy)
cars is being made currently on a test basis. _(3)_ Cars
are traded mostly on a three-year basis in the interest of economy. _(4)_
The factors governing need and assignment of cars are flexible
according to circumstances. _(5)_ Unsuccessful efforts have been
made to replace high mileage allowances with state automobiles. _(6)_
It is reasonably economical for the state to have drivers garage
state cars at their homes. _(7)_ The state has recently undertaken
liability insurance for drivers of state cars. _AUTOMOBILE PRACTICES
IN OTHER STATES._ A survey of practices and/or policies in other
states concerning assignment and use of state automobiles reveals
several points for comparison with Rhode Island's practices.

Forty-seven states assign or provide vehicles for employees on state

business. Two other states provide vehicles, but only with legislative
approval. States which provide automobiles for employees
assign them variously to the agency, the individual, or to a central pool.

Twenty-six states operate a central motor pool for acquisition,

allocation and/or maintenance of state-owned vehicles.
Nineteen states report laws, policies or regulations for assigning state
vehicles in lieu of paying mileage allowances. Of these states the
average "change-over" point (at which a car is substituted for allowances)
is 13,200 miles per year. _MILEAGE ALLOWANCES._ Mileage
allowances for state employees are of two types: (a) actual mileage
and (b) fixed monthly allowances. Actual mileage allowances
are itemized reimbursements allowed employees for the use of personally-owned
vehicles on state business at the rate of .07@ per mile. Fixed
monthly allowances are reimbursements for the same purpose except
on a non-itemized basis. Both allowances are governed by conditions and
restrictions set forth in detail in the state's Travel Regulations.

Rhode Island's reimburseable rate of .07@ per mile for

use of personally-owned cars compares favorably with other states'
rates. The average of states' rates is .076@ per mile.
Rhode Island's rate of .07@ per mile is considerably lower than
reimburseable rates in the federal government and in industry nationally
which approximate a .09@ per mile average. Actual mileage
allowances are well-administered and not unduly expensive for the state.
The travel regulations, requirements and procedures governing reimbursement
are controlled properly and not overly restrictive.
Fixed monthly allowances are a controversial subject. They have a great
advantage in ease of audit time and payment. However, they lend themselves
to abuse and inadequate control measures. Flat payments over
$50 per month are more expensive to the state than the assignment of
state-owned vehicles. _TRAVEL ALLOWANCES._ Travel allowances, including
subsistence, have been revised by administrative officials recently
and compare favorably with other states' allowances. With few
exceptions travelers on state business are allowed actual travel expenses
and $15 per day subsistence. Travel allowances are well-regulated
and pose little problem in administration and/or audit control.

#ORIGIN
OF STATE AUTOMOBILE PRACTICES#

_GENERAL BACKGROUND._ It
is difficult to pinpoint the time of origin of the state purchasing automobiles
for use of employees in Rhode Island. Few records are available
concerning the subject prior to 1940. Those that are available
shed little light. The Registry of Motor Vehicles indicates that
at least one state automobile was registered as far back as 1917. It
should be enough to say that the practice of the state buying automobiles
is at least forty years old. The best reason that can be
advanced for the state adopting the practice was the advent of expanded
highway construction during the 1920s and '30s. At that time highway
engineers traveled rough and dirty roads to accomplish their duties.
Using privately-owned vehicles was a personal hardship for such employees,
and the matter of providing state transportation was felt perfectly
justifiable. Once the principle was established, the increase
in state-owned vehicles came rapidly. And reasons other than employee
need contributed to the growth. Table 1 immediately below shows
the rate of growth of vehicles and employees. This rate of increase
does not signify anything in itself. It does not indicate loose management,
ineffective controls or poor policy. But it does show that automobiles
have increased steadily over the years and in almost the same
proportion to the increase of state employees. In the past twenty
years the ratio of state-owned automobiles per state employees has varied
from 1 to 22 then to 1 to 23 now. Whether there were too few automobiles
in 1940 or too many now is problematical. The fact is simply
that state-owned vehicles have remained in practically the same proportion
as employees to use them. _HISTORY AND OPERATION OF THE MOTOR
POOL._ While the origin of state-owned automobiles may be obscured,
subsequent developments concerning the assignment, use, and management
of state automobiles can be related more clearly. Prior to 1942,
automobiles were the individual responsibility of the agency to which
assigned. This responsibility included all phases of management. It
embraced determining when to purchase and when to trade vehicles, who
was to drive, when and where repairs were to be made, where gasoline
and automobile services were to be obtained and other allied matters.
In 1942, however, the nation was at war. Gasoline and automobile tires
were rationed commodities. The state was confronted with transportation
problems similar to those of the individual. It met these problems
by the creation of the state automobile maintenance unit (more popularly
called the motor pool), a centralized operation for the maintenance
and control of all state transportation. The motor pool then,
as now, had headquarter facilities in Providence and other garages located
throughout the state. It was organizationally the responsibility
of the Department of Public Works and was financed on a rotary fund
basis with each agency of government contributing to the pool's operation.
In 1951 the pool's operation was transferred to the newly-created
Department of Administration, an agency established as the
central staff and auxiliary department of the state government. The management
of state-owned vehicles since that time has been described in
a recent report in the following manner: " Under this new
management considerable progress appears to have been made. The agencies
of government are now billed for the actual cost of services provided
to each passenger car rather than the prior uniform charge for all
cars. Whereas the maintenance rotary fund had in the past sustained
losses considerably beyond expectations, the introduction of the cost-billing
system plus other control refinements has resulted in keeping
the fund on a proper working basis. One indication of the merits of
the new management is found in the fact that during the period 1951-1956,
while total annual mileage put on the vehicles increased 35%, the
total maintenance cost increased only 11%. " In order
to further refine the management of passenger vehicles, on July 1, 1958,
the actual title to every vehicle was transferred, by Executive
Order, to the Division of Methods, Research and Office Services.
The objective behind this action was to place in one agency the responsibility
for the management, assignment, and replacement of all vehicles.
(Note: So far as State Police cars are concerned, only their
replacement is under this division). This tied in closely with the
current attempt to upgrade state-owned cars to the extent that vehicles
are not retained beyond the point where maintenance costs (in light
of depreciation) become excessive. Moreover, it allows the present management
to reassign vehicles so that mileage will be more uniformly
distributed throughout the fleet; for example, if one driver puts on
22,000 miles per year and another driver 8,000 miles per year, their
cars will be switched so that both cars will have 30,000 miles after two
years, rather than 44,000 miles (and related higher maintenance costs)
and 16,000 miles respectively". The motor pool is a completely
centralized and mechanized operation. It handles all types of
vehicle maintenance, but concentrates more on "service station activities"
than on extensive vehicle repairs. It contracts with outside
repair garages for much of the latter work. Where the pool excels is
in its compilation of maintenance and cost-data studies and analyses.
Pool records reveal in detail the cost per mile and miles per gallon
of each vehicle, the miles traveled in one year or three years, the periods
when vehicle costs become excessive, and when cars should be traded
for sound economies. From this, motor pool personnel develop other
meaningful and related data. In 1959-60, vehicles averaged an operating
cost of .027@ per mile. Based on this figure and considering depreciation
costs of vehicles, pool personnel have determined that travel
in excess of 10,000 miles annually is more economical by state car
than by payment of allowances for use of personally-owned vehicles. They
estimate further that with sufficient experience and when cost-data
of compact cars is compiled, the break-even point may be reduced to
7,500 miles of travel per year. Table 2 shows operating cost data of
state vehicles selected at random. One matter of concern to
the complete effectiveness of pool operations is the lack of adequate
central garage facilities. Present pool quarters at two locations in
Providence are crowded, antiquated and, in general, make for inefficient
operation in terms of dispersement of personnel and duplication of
such operational needs as stock and repair equipment. Good facilities
would be a decided help to pool operations and probably reduce vehicle
costs even more. _PURCHASING PRACTICES._ The purchase of state-owned
vehicles is handled in the same manner as all other purchases
of the state. Requests are made by the motor pool along with any necessary
cooperation from the agencies to which assignments of cars will
be made. Bids are evaluated by the Division of Purchases with the
assistance of pool staff, and awards for the purchase of the automobiles
are made to the lowest responsible bidders. Unit prices for state
vehicles are invariably lower than to the general public. The reasons
are obvious: (1) the state is buying in quantity, and (2) it has no
federal excise or state sales tax to pay. Until 1958 the state was also
entitled to a special type of manufacturers' discount through the
dealers. In that ownership of all vehicles rests with the state
motor pool, cars are paid for with funds appropriated to the agencies
but transferred to the rotary fund mentioned earlier. This is a normal
governmental procedure which reflects more accurately cost-accounting
principles. The assignment and use of vehicles after purchase is
another matter to be covered in detail later.

#VEHICLE PURCHASE,
ASSIGNMENT, AND USE POLICIES#

Probably the most important of all matters

for review are the broad administrative policies governing the purchase,
assignment, use, and management of state vehicles. The legislature's
role in policy determination in this area for years has been
confined almost solely to the amount of funds appropriated annually
for the purchase and operation of vehicles. The more meaningful policies
have been left to the judgment of the chief administrative officer
of the state- the Director of Administration.
#THE RHODE ISLAND PROPERTY TAX#

There was a time some years ago when

local taxation by the cities and towns was sufficient to support their
own operations and a part of the cost of the state government as
well. For many years a state tax on cities and towns was paid by the
several municipalities to the state from the proceeds of the general property
tax. This tax was discontinued in 1936. Since that time
the demands of the citizens for new and expanded services have placed
financial burdens on the state which could not have been foreseen in
earlier years. At the same time there has been an upgrading and expansion
of municipal services as well. Thus, there has come into being
a situation in which the state must raise all of its own revenues and,
in addition, must give assistance to its local governments. This
financial assistance from the state has become necessary because
the local governments themselves found the property tax, or at least at
the rates then existing, insufficient for their requirements.
Consequently there have developed several forms of grants-in-aid and
shared taxes, as well as the unrestricted grant to local governments
for general purposes whose adoption accompanied the introduction of a
sales tax at the state level. Notwithstanding state aid, the local
governments are continuing to seek additional revenue of their own
by strengthening the property tax. This is being done both by the revaluation
of real property and by seeking out forms of personal property
hitherto neglected or ignored. Taxation of tangible movable
property in Rhode Island has been generally of a "hands off" nature
due possibly to several reasons: (1) local assessors, in the main,
are not well paid and have inadequate office staffs, (2) the numerous
categories of this component of personal property make locating extremely
difficult, and (3) the inexperience of the majority of assessors
in evaluating this type of property. _PROBLEMS OF TAXING PERSONAL
PROPERTY._ Among the many problems in the taxing of personal property,
and of movable tangible property in particular, two are significant:
(1) situs, (2) fair and equitable assessment of value. These
problems are not local to Rhode Island, but are recognized as common
to all states. _SITUS OF PROPERTY._ Although the laws of the various
states, in general, specify the situs of property, i&e&, residence
or domicile of the owner, or location of the property, the exceptions
regarding boats, airplanes, mobile homes, etc&, seem to add to
the uncertainty of the proper origination point for assessment.

Rhode Island law specifies that all real estate is taxable in the
town in which it is situated. It also provides for the taxation of all
personal property, belonging to inhabitants of the state, both tangible
and intangible, and the tangible personal property of non-residents
in this state. In defining personal property, it specifically mentions
"all ships or vessels, at home or abroad". Intangible
property is taxable wherever the owner has a place of abode the greater
portion of the year. Although a similar situs for tangible property
is mentioned in the statute, this is cancelled out by the provision
that definite kinds of property "and all other tangible property"
situated or being in any town is taxable where the property is situated.
This would seem to fix the tax situs of all movable personal property
at its location on December 31. Both boats and aircraft would
fall within this category, as well as motor vehicles. The location
of the latter now is determined for tax purposes at the time of registration,
and it is now accepted practice to consider a motor vehicle
as being situated where it is garaged. Obviously, it would be impossible
to determine where every vehicle might be on the 31st day of December.
In view of the acceptance accorded the status of motor vehicles
for tax purposes, in the absence of any specific provision it would
seem entirely consistent to apply the same interpretation to boats or
aircraft. A recent example of this problem is the flying of six
airplanes, on December 31, 1960, from the Newport Airpark in Middletown,
to the North Central Airport in Smithfield. This situation
resulted in both towns claiming the tax, and probably justifiably.
Middletown bases its claim on the general provision of the law that "all
rateable property, both tangible and intangible, shall be taxed
to the owner thereof in the town in which such owner shall have had his
actual place of abode for the larger portion of the twelve (12) months
next preceding the first day of April in each year". The
Smithfield tax assessor, in turn, claims the tax under the provision
of law "**h and all other tangible personal property situated or being
in any town, in or upon any **h place of storage **h shall be taxed
to such person **h in the town where said property is situated".
_ASSESSMENT OF VALUE._ This problem of fair and equitable assessment
of value is a difficult one to solve in that the determination of
fair valuation is dependent on local assessors, who in general are
non-professional
and part-time personnel taking an individualistic approach
to the problem. This accounts for the wide variance in assessment
practices of movable tangible property in the various municipalities in
Rhode Island. This condition will undoubtedly continue until
such time as a state uniform system of evaluation is established,
or through mutual agreement of the local assessing officials for a method
of standard assessment practice to be adopted. The Rhode
Island Public Expenditure Council in its publication once commented:
" The most realistic way of facing up to this problem would
be to have the State take over full responsibility for assessing
all taxable property. An adequately staffed and equipped State assessing
office could apply uniform methods and standards which would go far
toward producing equitable assessments on all properties throughout
the State. A single statewide assessing unit would eliminate the differences
and complications that are inherent in a system of 39 different
and independent assessing units". The Institute of Public
Administration, in its report to the State Fiscal Study Commission
in 1959, recommended "consolidating and centralizing all aspects
of property tax administration in a single state agency professionally
organized and equipped for the job". The resulting setup, it was
declared, "would be similar to that which is in successful operation
in a number of metropolitan counties as large or larger than Rhode
Island". _PRACTICES IN RHODE ISLAND._ To determine the practice
and attitude of municipal governments concerning tangible movable property,
a questionnaire was sent to all local government assessors or
boards of assessors in Rhode Island. The replies from each
individual town are not given in detail because the questions asked the
personal opinion of the several assessors and are not necessarily the
established policy of the town in each case. There are legitimate reasons
for differences of opinion among the assessors as a whole and among
the public officials in each town. These opinions of the assessors
are of significance in indicating what their thinking seems to be at
the present time. In reply to a question of whether they now
tax boats, airplanes and other movable property excluding automobiles,
nineteen said that they did and twenty that they did not. The wording
of the question was quite general and may have been subject to different
interpretations. One assessor checked boats only, another trailers
and tractors, one mentioned house trailers, and two others referred
to trailers without specifying the type. In two cases, airplanes only
were indicated. It is difficult to tabulate exactly what was
meant in each individual situation, but the conclusion may be drawn
that 21 towns do not assess movable personal property, and of the remainder
only certain types are valued for tax purposes. Boats were indicated
specifically by only one of the five towns known to tax boats.
It would seem, then, that movable property and equipment is not taxed
as a whole but that certain types are taxed in towns where this is bound
to be expedient for that particular kind of personal property.

So few answered the question relating to their efforts to assess

movable property that the results are inconclusive. Only four towns indicated
that they made any more than a normal effort to list property
of this kind. Of greater interest is a question as to whether
movable property was assessed according to its location or ownership.
Fifteen stated that it was according to location, four by residence
of the owner, and nineteen did not answer. Twenty-seven assessors
stated that they were in favor of improved means for assessing movable
personal property, and only five were opposed. Seven others expressed
no opinion. On this point there was fairly general agreement that
assessors would like to do more than they are doing now. It is not
clear, however, whether they are thinking of all movable property or
only of boats, trailers, aircraft or certain other types of personal
property whose assessment would be advantageous to their particular towns.

Another question that was asked of the assessors was whether

they favored the assessment of movable property at its location or
at the residence of the owner. Eighteen voted for assessment by the
town in which it is located and eleven preferred assessment by the town
in which the owner resides. Ten others made no reply. Of those who
have an opinion, it seems that assessment by location is preferred. There
was one vote for location being the place where the property is
situated for the greater portion of the twelve months preceding the assessment
date. To summarize, it may be said that there is no one
prevailing practice in Rhode Island with respect to the taxation
of movable property, that assessors would like to see an improvement,
and of those who have an opinion, that assessment by the town of location
is preferred on the basis of their present knowledge. The need for
greater knowledge is evident from their replies.

#BOATS AS PERSONAL
PROPERTY#

_TAXING OF BOATS._ Interest has been shown for a number

of years by local assessors in the possibility of taxing boats.
Assessors in Rhode Island are charged not only with placing a valuation
upon real and personal property, but they also have the responsibility
to raise by a tax "a sum not less than nor more than" a specified
amount as ordered by a city council or financial town meeting.

It has been obvious to the assessors, particularly those in shore

communities, that boats comprise the largest category of tangible personal
property which they have been unable to reach. Through their
professional organization, the Rhode Island Tax Officials Association
the question of taxing boats long has been debated and discussed.
No satisfactory solution has been found, but this is due more to the
difficulties inherent in the problem than to a lack of interest or diligence
on the part of the assessors. It has been estimated that
the value of boats in Rhode Island waters is something in excess
of fifty million dollars, excluding commercial boats. It is obvious that
this is a potential and lucrative source of revenue for the assessors
of those towns where a substantial amount of such property would be
subject to taxation. It is known that at least five towns (Barrington,
Bristol, Narragansett, Newport and Westerly) place some
value on some boats for tax purposes. However, few are taxed, and
the owners and location of most boats are unknown to the assessors on
the date of assessment of town valuations. No one really knows
how many boats there actually are or what their aggregate value may
be. Slightly more than 5,000 boats were registered with the Coast Guard
prior to the recent passage of the state boating law. Only a few
more than 10,000 boats had been registered with the Division of Harbors
and Rivers at the end of the 1960 boating season, but many had
been taken out of the water early when the threat of a hurricane brought
the season to an early close. The assessors' association,
meeting at Narragansett in September 1960, devoted its session to a
discussion of the boat problem.

Local industry's investment in Rhode Island was the big story

in 1960's industrial development effort. Fifty-two companies started
or committed themselves to new plant construction, totaling 1,418,000
square feet and representing an investment of $11,900,000; a
new post-World War /2, record. With minor exceptions, this expansion
was instituted either by firms based in Rhode Island or out-of-state
manufacturers already operating here. What made these new
location figures particularly impressive was the fact that although 1960
was a year of mild business recession throughout the nation, Rhode
Island scored marked progress in new industry, new plants, and new jobs.

Of the major expansions in 1960, three were financed under

the R& I& Industrial Building Authority's 100% guaranteed
mortgage plan: Collyer Wire, Leesona Corporation, and American
Tube + Controls. Leading firms that arranged their own financing
included Speidel Corporation, Cornell-Dubilier, Photek, Inc&
Division of Textron, Narragansett Gray Iron Foundry, W& R&
Cobb Company, and Mays Manufacturing Company. Expansion
and relocation of industry in Rhode Island is the direct responsibility
of the Development Council's Industrial Division, and the figures
quoted above indicate a successful year's operation. Industrial
Division personnel worked with 54 out-of-state and 97 Rhode Island
concerns during 1960, many of whom are still interested in a Rhode
Island location. They are conscious of this state's new feeling
of optimism and assurance and are definitely impressed by the number of
new plants and construction projects in Rhode Island. _AIDS TO
SMALL BUSINESS#

Although much of the Industrial Division's promotional

effort is devoted to securing new locations and expansions by
major industries, small business is also afforded considerable attention.
Our Office of Foreign and Domestic Commerce carries on a vigorous
program, directly aimed at solving and expediting the problems of
manufacturers in the lower employment categories. A primary function
is the operation of a Government Bid Center, which receives
bids daily from the Federal Government's principal purchasing agencies.
Assistance is rendered to interested Rhode Island businessmen
concerning interpretation of bid invitations, where to obtain specifications,
and follow-ups concerning qualification. During the past year,
10,517 government bid invitations were received and 4,427 procurement
leads were mailed to Rhode Island manufacturers. In addition,
the Office's domestic trade program provided consultant services
to those seeking information on establishment of new businesses;
how and where to apply for financial assistance; details on marketing;
information concerning patents, copyrights and trade marks, availability
of technical reports, and other subjects of interest to small
business. The Office of Foreign and Domestic Commerce is
also active in the field of international trade, assisting Rhode Island
firms in developing and enlarging markets abroad. This office cooperates
with the U& S& Department of Commerce in giving statewide
coverage
to services which include: statistics on markets abroad; locating
foreign agents, buyers, distributors, etc&; information on
foreign and domestic import duties and regulations, licensing, investments,
and establishing of branch representatives or plants abroad, and
documentary requirements concerning export shipments and arrangements
for payment. During the year 1960, this office supplied 954 visitors
with information related to foreign and domestic commerce, and
made 73 field visits. _ADVERTISING PROGRAM_ Our media advertising
continued, during 1960, its previous effective program that stressed
such specifics as 100% financing, plant availabilities, and location
advantages. We also continued to run a series of ads featuring endorsement
of Rhode Island by industrialists who had recently established
new plants here. To reach a still greater audience of location-minded
manufacturers, our industrial advertising budget for the fiscal
year was increased from $32,000 to $40,000, and the Industrial
Building Authority's financial participation was upped from $17,000
to $20,000. Newspaper advertising was mainly concentrated in
the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal (Eastern and Midwestern
editions) which averaged two prominent ads per month, and to
a lesser degree the New York Herald Tribune and, for the west coast,
the Los Angeles Times and the Wall Street Journal (Pacific
Coast edition). In addition to the regular schedule, advertisements
were run for maximum impact in special editions of the New York Times,
Boston Herald, American Banker, Electronic News and, for local
promotion, the Providence Sunday Journal. Magazine advertising
included Management Methods, the New Englander, U& S& Investor,
and Plant Location. The direct mail campaign consisted
of 3 intra state mailings of 1680 letters each and 6 out-of-state directed
to electronics, plastics, pharmaceutical, and business machine manufacturers,
and to publishers. These totaled 6,768 pieces of correspondence.

The 1960 advertising campaign brought a total of 239

inquiries; 164 from media and 75 from direct mail. Two hundred and
nineteen were received from 35 of our 50 United States and 11 came from
foreign countries. New York led in the number of inquiries, followed
by California, New Jersey, Massachusetts, and Pennsylvania.
Among foreign countries responding were Germany, Canada, Brazil and
India. _INDUSTRIAL PROMOTION_ An important operation in soliciting
industrial locations involves what we term "Missionary calls"
by one of this Division's industrial promotion specialists. These
consist of visits, without previous announcement, on top officials of
manufacturing concerns located in highly industrialized areas. More
than 25 carefully selected cities were visited, including New York,
Brooklyn, Long Island City, Newark, Elizabeth, Stamford, Waterbury,
New Haven, Bridgeport, Boston, Cambridge, Worcester, and
Waltham. Out of a total of 603 calls, 452 contacts were established
with top executive personnel. We received 76 out-of-state visitors
interested in investigating Rhode Island's industrial advantages,
and Industrial Division personnel made 55 out-of-state follow-up
visits. _INDUSTRIAL CONFERENCES_ During 1960, two important conferences
were organized by the Development Council's Industrial Division.
In June, the Office of Foreign and Domestic Commerce-
in conjunction with local trade associations, chambers of commerce,
and bank officials- sponsored a World Trade Conference at the Sheraton-Biltmore
Hotel. Its purpose was to find ways of offsetting the
United States' declining balance of trade for 1958 and 1959. Approximately
100 representatives of business attended this conclave and
the R& I& Export Conference Committee later voted to continue
the activity as an annual event. On October 8th of last year,
the Industrial Division sponsored the Governor's Conference
on Industrial Development at the former Henry Barnard School. A
comprehensive program devoted to the various phases of the development
effort attracted 143 interested individuals. Morning sessions
included addresses by Ward Miller, Jr& of the U& S& Dept&
of Commerce. Richard Preston, executive director of the New Hampshire
State Planning and Development Commission, and Edwin C&
Kepler of General Electric Company. Workshop sessions in the afternoon
featured development executives from Pennsylvania, Connecticut
and Maine, and rounded out a rewarding program. In connection
with this conference, a 64-page supplement was published in the October
2nd edition of the Providence Sunday Journal. Devoted to the
improvement in business climate and increase in industrial construction
in Rhode Island, it has proved a valuable mailing piece for this
Division. More than 2000 copies have been sent out to prospective clients.
_MAILINGS AND PUBLICATIONS_ Other special mailings by the
Industrial Division included copies of speeches delivered at the Governor's
Conference, letters and brochures to conferees at Med-Chemical
Symposium at University of Rhode Island and letters and reprints
of industrial advertisements to such organizations as Society
of Industrial Realtors. 1184 copies of the R& I& Directory of
Manufacturers were distributed: 643 in-state and 541 out-of-state.

The Industrial Division published, in 1960, a new, attractive

industrial brochure, "Rhode Island- Right For Industry",
and prepared
copy for a new edition of the Directory of Manufacturers (to be
printed shortly), and for a new space catalogue. Additional promotional
activities included organizing the dedication program for Operation
Turnkey, the new automated post office, and a conference with
representatives of Brown University, Providence College, and University
of Rhode Island, and eight electronics concerns regarding
the inauguration of a training program for electronics personnel.

#PLANNING
DIVISION#

Stated in its simplest terms, the main job of the

Planning Division is to plan for the future of the State of Rhode
Island. The activities of the Planning Division are defined in considerable
detail in the enabling act of the Development Council, which
assigns to the agency both broad responsibilities and specific duties
in the field of planning. Two years ago, the Institute of
Public Administration issued an extremely comprehensive report entitled
"State-Local Relations in Metropolitan Rhode Island. As
the result of an exhaustive review of the recommendations contained in
this report, plus an analysis of our own enabling act, the Planning
Division developed a number of basic planning objectives which caused
a reorientation of its work program. These objectives are stated here
because of their importance in understanding the current activities
of the Planning Division. _(1)_ First priority will be given to
the preparation of a meaningful state guide plan to serve as a background
for all other planning activities in the state. _(2)_ Recognizing
the truth of the statement by the Institute of Public Administration
that "Metropolian Planning (in Rhode Island) means, or
should mean, state planning", the state guide plan will take into account
the metropolitan nature of many of Rhode Island's problems.
_(3)_ It will continue to be an objective of this division to encourage
the acceptance of planning as a proper and continuing responsibility
of local government. To this end, the community assistance program
of the planning division will continue to be operated as a staff function
to make available, on a shared cost basis, technical planning
assistance to those communities in the state unable to maintain their
own planning staff. _(4)_ The planning division will take the initiative
in encouraging planning cooperation at all levels of government;
among the operating departments of the state; between the cities
and towns of the state; and on a regional basis between the six New
England states. _(5)_ On the basis that all citizens of the state
are entitled to benefit equally in the development of its resources,
plans for the provision of essential services (such as water) will
be based on need regardless of arbitrary political boundaries, within
the framework of the state plan. _(6)_ The state development budget
will reflect the capital needs of all the state agencies and the priority
of the projects in the budget will be based on the state plan.
_(7)_ In preparing the state guide plan, particular attention will
be given means of strengthening the economy of the state through the
development of industry and recreation. Functionally the planning
division carries out four activities: long-range state planning,
current state planning, local planning assistance; and the preparation
of the state development budget. _LONG RANGE STATE PLANNING_
The planning division has embarked on the most complete and comprehensive
state planning program in the nation. The long range aspects of
this program are divided into four distinct phases: basic mapping,
inventory, analysis and plan and policy formation. The work program,
as it was originally proposed, was to take five years to complete. Recent
events- particularly the necessity of providing planning information
for the statewide origin/destination study of the Department
of Public Works- indicate that this schedule will have to be accelerated.
The basic mapping phase of the program has been completed and
the inventory phase is scheduled for completion July 1, 1961. _BASIC
MAPPING_ Since accurate base maps are necessary for any planning
program, the first step taken by the planning division to implement the
long range state plan has been to prepare two series of base maps-
one at a scale of 1 inch to a mile, and the second a series of 26 sheets
at a scale of 1 inch to 2000 feet, covering the entire state. With
these maps completed, the inventory phase of the plan has been started.
_INVENTORY_ With the aid of matching federal funds available
under Section 701 of the Housing Act of 1954 as amended, the planning
division began a one year program July 1, 1960 to complete the inventory
phase of the state planning program. this phase consists of four
items: urban land use, rural land use, physical features and public
utility service areas. Since the validity of all subsequent planning
depends on the accuracy of the basic inventory information, great care
is being taken that the inventory is as complete as possible.

The urban land use study carried out by the planning division staff
has consisted of identifying and mapping all urban land uses which are
of significance to statewide planning. The rural land use study is
being carried out under contract by the University of Rhode Island
and identifies all agricultural land uses in the state by type of use.
The mapping of important physical features such as slopes and types
of soil and the collection of all available information pertaining to
public utility service areas are being conducted as staff projects and,
like the other two inventory projects, are scheduled for completion
July 1, 1961. _ANALYSIS_ The collection of information is meaningless
unless it is understood and used for a definite purpose.
_SPECIAL DISTRICTS IN RHODE ISLAND._ It is not within the scope of
this report elaborate in any great detail upon special districts in
Rhode Island. However, a word should be mentioned in regard to them
as independent units of government. There are forty-seven special
district governments in Rhode Island (excluding two regional school
districts, four housing authorities, and the Kent County Water
Authority). These forty-seven special purpose governments have the
authority to levy taxes, to borrow money, own property, sue and be sued,
and in general to exercise normal corporate powers. Unlike cities
and towns, however, they do not have to submit any financial statements
to the state Bureau of Audits. It is not an exaggeration to say
that the state government has little or no fiscal control over these units
of government. In addition to the collection of service charges,
the special districts levy annual property taxes of approximately $450,000.

#FISCAL YEARS IN OTHER STATES#

_COMPARATIVE DATA._ A
review of practices in other states regarding fiscal uniformity is pertinent
to this report. Included in the findings are: _1._ Forty-six
states, including Rhode Island, end their fiscal year on June
30. The other four states end on varying dates: Alabama (Sept&
30), New York (March 31), Pennsylvania (May 31), and Texas (August
31). _2._ In sixteen states, the fiscal year ending of the
cities (June 30) is the same as that of the state: Alaska, Arizona,
California, Delaware, Massachusetts, Montana, Nevada, New Mexico,
North Carolina, North Dakota, Oklahoma, Oregon, Vermont,
West Virginia, Wyoming, and Hawaii). _3._ In eleven states,
the fiscal year of the cities ends on December 31, while the state fiscal
year ends on June 30 (Arkansas, Colorado, Indiana, Kansas, New
Hampshire, New Jersey, Ohio, South Dakota, Utah, Washington,
and Wisconsin). _4._ In eight states whose fiscal years close
on June 30, a majority of their cities close their fiscal year on December
31: (Georgia, Iowa, Kentucky, Maine, Maryland, Minnesota,
Virginia, and South Carolina). _5._ One state, Alabama, closes
its fiscal year on September 30, and all cities in the state, with
one exception, also close fiscal years on September 30. _6._
Mississippi closes its fiscal year on June 30, while all of its cities
close their fiscal years on September 30. _7._ Pennsylvania closes
its fiscal year on May 31. All of its cities close their fiscal
years on December 31. The remaining twelve states have varying
fiscal years for the state, city and local governments. However,
only Illinois, Oregon, Louisiana and Rhode Island have a situation
in which the sundry units of government vary widely in relation to fiscal
uniformity.

#FISCAL UNIFORMITY: ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES#

_ADVANTAGES._ An excellent summary of advantages concerning

the uniform fiscal year and coordinated fiscal calendars was contained
in a paper presented by a public finance authority recently. He listed
among the values of fiscal uniformity: _1._ The uniform fiscal
year requires compliance with common sense administration of local
finances: adoption of the budget, or financial plan, in advance of spending.
_2._ The uniform fiscal year ensures conformance with another
common sense rule, that of having cash in the bank before checks
are drawn. It enables towns to make more economical purchases and to
take advantage of cash discounts. _3._ The uniform fiscal year promotes
more careful budgeting and strengthens control over expenditures.
By fixing the tax rate in advance of spending, upper limits are set
on expenditures. _4._ The uniform fiscal year brings the town's
fiscal year into line with that of the schools, which expend the largest
share of local disbursements. This greatly simplifies the town's
bookkeeping and financial reporting. _5._ The uniform fiscal
year eliminates interest charges on money borrowed in the form of tax
anticipation notes. Furthermore, tax collections not immediately needed
for current expenditures may be invested in short-term treasury notes,
augmenting the town's miscellaneous revenues and reducing the tax
levy. _6._ The uniform fiscal year facilitates inter-town comparison
of revenues and expenditures. When towns have the same fiscal
year it is relatively easy to make meaningful comparisons; and as the
cost of local government increases, the demand for such comparison also
increases. Towns having different fiscal years are difficult to compare.

Of all advantages, probably none is more important than

the elimination of tax anticipation notes. Borrowing in anticipation
of current taxes and other revenues is a routine procedure of the majority
of municipalities at all times. It may be by bank loans, sale
of notes or warrants, or by the somewhat casual method of issuance and
registration of warrants. In any event it is a form of borrowing which
could be and should be rendered unnecessary. Its elimination would
result in the saving of interest costs, heavy when short-term money rates
are high, and in freedom from dependence on credit which is not always
available when needed most. This type of borrowing can be reduced
to a minimum if quarterly installment payment of taxes is instituted
and the first payment placed near the opening of the fiscal year. Any
approach
toward such a system looks toward saving and security.
It should be noted that there are other and equally important reasons
for establishing meaningful intergovernmental reporting bases on a uniform
fiscal year. Both the federal and state governments commence their
fiscal years on July 1. Both units of government contribute increasingly
large sums of money to the several local governments in this
state as indicated below: @ It has been said that when local
government revenues were mostly produced locally from the property
tax, the lack of a uniform fiscal year was no great handicap; but with
the growth of state and federal fiscal aid, the emphasis on equalization,
and the state-local sharing of responsibility for certain important
functions, this is no longer true. The haphazard fiscal year calendar
is an obstacle to the planning of clear and efficient state-local
revenue and expenditure relationships. _DISADVANTAGES._ Although
there are many sound reasons for adopting uniform and coordinated fiscal
years in Rhode Island, there are also certain difficulties encountered.
These involve more the mechanics employed in adjusting to fiscal
uniformity than they do actual actual disadvantages to the principle.
One problem is a matter of shifting dates; the other, is how to
finance the transition. Little can be done about the changing
of dates. This is an inherent part of adjusting fiscal calendars. It
usually means a confused and disgruntled tax-paying public for a period
of time. But cooperation and understanding between local officials
and the citizenry help lessen this problem. The other problem
is the matter of financing the transition period in the several cities
and towns. This will be covered more fully later. It should be kept
in mind that the ease or difficulty with which a town or city can
convert to the proposed plan is directly dependent upon the financial
condition of that town or city. Fortunately, there are no cities or towns
in the state, with one or two possible exceptions that are in too
difficult a position to finance the proposed change. Sacrifice will
have to be made in some cases, but it is to the municipality's advantage
to finance the change-over for a short period of time rather than
pay interest on tax anticipation notes indefinitely.

#ADJUSTING THE
FISCAL CALENDARS#

The advantages of a uniform fiscal year and well

synchronized fiscal and tax collection calendars are sufficiently great
for Rhode Island municipalities to exert effort to secure them. The
type of program desired can be determined by the nature and extent
of the adjustments needed. Two features are immediately evident. First,
the present situation is too varied to be systematized by any single
formula. Second, the shift to a uniform July 1-June 30 fiscal year
will, of itself, improve the tax collection calendars of the great
majority of cities and towns. There are at least two problems to consider:
one is a matter of adjusting the fiscal calendar; the other
is how to finance the adjustments when necessary. The latter matter
is considered in detail in a later section. Twelve cities and
towns in Rhode Island presently indicate some plans to establish a
uniform and/or coordinated fiscal-tax year calendar. Plans vary from
the "talking stage" to establishing special committees to accomplish
this end. What is important here is that many of the cities and towns
recognize the need for improved fiscal practices and are taking the
initiative to obtain them. An analysis of the fiscal-tax collection
year calendars throughout the state indicates that transition
may not be as painful as is commonly thought. However, it must be stressed
that much depends upon the financial condition of the individual
cities and towns involved. The adjustments needed to establish
a uniform and coordinated fiscal-tax collection year calendar throughout
Rhode Island, based on a July 1-June 30 year, are shown below.
_NO ADJUSTMENT NEEDED._ Six cities and towns are presently on a
July 1-June 30 fiscal year and have coordinated their tax collection
year with it. No change is required for these towns. These municipalities
include: Barrington, Lincoln, Middletown, Newport, North
Kingstown, and South Kingstown. _ADJUSTMENT OF FISCAL YEAR._
One town and one city, Coventry and East Providence, require an adjustment
of their fiscal year only. This change will automatically adjust
their tax collection year calendar so as to make all tax installments
due and payable in the fiscal year collectible within that year.
_ADJUSTMENT OF TAX COLLECTION YEAR._ Six cities and towns are now
on a July 1-June 30 fiscal year and will need only to adjust their
tax collection year calendar to establish uniformity. These cities and
towns include Bristol, Glocester, Pawtucket, Cumberland, Central
Falls, and Woonsocket. _SIMULTANEOUS ADJUSTMENTS._ Two cities
to be considered, Providence and Cranston, are an enigma. Both have
excellent integration of their fiscal-tax collection year calendars.
However, neither of these two cities is on the desired July 1-June
30 fiscal year. The adjustment to a uniform and coordinated fiscal
period could be accomplished relatively easy for them. In that
both cities end their fiscal years on September 30, they could levy taxes
for an interim period of nine months, commencing with September
30 and ending with June 30. These three installment dates would be:
October 26, January 26, and April 25 (Providence) and November
15, February 16 and May 15 (Cranston). Both would start their new
fiscal year on July 1. Their tax collection calendar could then be:
July 25, October 26, January 26, and April 25, (Providence);
and August 15, November 15, February 17, and May 15, (Cranston).
Under this plan both Cranston and Providence would be on the uniform
fiscal year but would still be using the same installment periods.
_VARYING ADJUSTMENTS._ The remaining twenty-three towns have fiscal
years which end prior to June 30. All of these towns will require
adjustments of both their fiscal and tax collection years. Assuming
an adjustment to the July 1-June 30 fiscal year, the required adjustment
of the tax collection years and the towns involved are shown in Table
3.

#METHODS OF FINANCING ADJUSTMENTS#

Aside from the matter

of adjusting the fiscal and tax calendars, there is the problem of financing
the adjustment when this is necessary. It should be emphasized
strongly that adjustments in fiscal dates or adoption of interim budgets
<do not necessarily> mean financing over and above normal governmental
requirements. In many communities there is simply no financial
problem; it is only a matter of adjusting accounting methods, careful
fiscal planning and management, or some like combination of techniques.
In other municipalities the difficulties in overcoming the financial
burden have been sufficiently great to dishearten proponents of
fiscal year changes. Fortunately, such cases in Rhode Island are more
the exception than the rule. As shown earlier in Table 1,
the several cities and towns use widely varied fiscal and tax collection
calendars. In addition, no two Rhode Island communities are identical
in relation to their over-all financial condition. These factors
practically insure that no single financing formula is feasible; each
situation must be studied and a plan developed that takes into consideration
such factors as the effect of the existing and prospective
tax calendars, the financial condition of the treasuries, and the length
of the transition interval. Suitable plans range from those that are
very easy to develop to those that are difficult to formulate and require
borrowing ranging from short-term serial notes to long-term bonds.

The financial problem, where it exists, usually stems from

the adoption of a budget for the transitional or adjustment period. For
those communities which have financial difficulties in effecting adjustments,
there are a number of alternatives any one of which alone,
or in combination with others, would minimize if not even eliminate the
problem.

#RHODE ISLAND HERITAGE WEEK PROCLAMATION BY JOHN A& NOTTE,JR&

GOVERNOR#

The theme of Rhode Island Heritage Week for 1961 will

be "Independence and Union". It commemorates the 185th anniversary
of Rhode Island's Independence when, upon May 4, 1776, the
General Assembly, by its action, established the first free republic
in the New World. As this year marks the centennial of the
beginning of the Civil War, this fact is being commemorated with several
exhibits throughout the State, but most of all paying tribute to
the first Rhode Island Volunteers who rushed to the defense of the
City of Washington, putting at the disposal of President Lincoln
the only fully equipped and best trained regiment at this time.

On April 30, ceremonies commemorating the departure of these volunteers

will take place at 1:00 P&M& at the Dexter Training Grounds
in Providence. The Independence Day celebration will be properly
observed with a big military and civic parade from West Warwick
to the Greene Homestead in Anthony; AND NOW, THEREFORE, DO I,
JOHN A& NOTTE, JR&, GOVERNOR OF THE STATE OF RHODE ISLAND AND PROVIDENCE
PLANTATIONS, PROCLAIM THE WEEK OF APRIL 29TH TO MAY 7TH, 1961,
AS RHODE ISLAND HERITAGE WEEK, advising our citizens that throughout
this week many historic houses and beautiful gardens will be open
to visitors as well as industrial plants, craft shops, museums and libraries
and I
earnestly urge all to take advantage of these opportunities
to see as many of these places as they can during this outstanding
week. IN TESTIMONY WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand
and caused the seal of the State to be affixed this 21st day of April,
in the year of Our Lord, one thousand nine hundred and sixty-one
and on Independence, the one hundred and eighty-fifth. Governor

#ARMED FORCES DAY PROCLAMATION BY JOHN A& NOTTE, JR& GOVERNOR#

The year 1961 marks the fourteenth anniversary of the unification of

our Armed Forces under the National Security Act of 1947.
National defense, like the continuing search for peace with freedom
and justice for all, is "everybody's business". Our investment
in this effort, the greatest in our Nation's history, reflects our
determination to ensure the peace and the future of freedom. It
is a sound investment. As the President has said, "only when our
arms are sufficient beyond doubt can we be certain that they will never
be employed". Armed Forces Day is the annual report on
this investment, a public presentation designed to give our own people,
and the people of other lands who stand with us for peace with freedom
and justice, the best possible opportunity to see and understand what
we have and why we have it. It is the purpose of Armed Forces
Day to give Americans an opportunity to honor men of the Armed
Forces, those who have made the supreme sacrifice, those who remain
to preserve our security. Freedom depends upon them; NOW, THEREFORE,
DO I, JOHN A& NOTTE, JR&, GOVERNOR OF THE STATE OF RHODE ISLAND
AND PROVIDENCE PLANTATIONS, PROCLAIM SATURDAY, MAY 20th, 1961,
AS ARMED FORCES DAY, reminding our citizens that we should rededicate
ourselves to our Nation, respecting the uniforms as the guardians
of our precious liberty. IN TESTIMONY WHEREOF, I have
hereunto set my hand and caused the seal of the State to be affixed
this 17th day of May, in the year of Our Lord, one thousand nine hundred
and sixty-one, and of Independence, the one hundred and eighty-sixth.

Governor

#NATIONAL MARITIME DAY PROCLAMATION BY JOHN A& NOTTE, JR& GOVERNOR#

The President of the United States, pursuant to a Joint Resolution

of Congress, has issued a proclamation each year since 1933
declaring may 22nd to be National Maritime Day. This date in
1819 marked the sailing of the S& S& "Savannah" from Savannah,
Georgia, for Liverpool. This voyage was the first successful
crossing of the Atlantic under steam propulsion. The day is now appropriately
set aside to honor the American men and women who have contributed
to the success of our merchant marine fleet in peace and war.
The Merchant Marine is the "Fourth Arm of Defense", for
a strong and effective American Merchant Marine is essential to
the economy and security of our Nation. Through trade and travel
across the seas the American Merchant Marine is carrying out its
historic mission of linking the United States of America with friendly
nations across the seas; AND NOW, THEREFORE, DO I, JOHN A&
NOTTE, JR&, GOVERNOR OF THE STATE OF RHODE ISLAND AND PROVIDENCE PLANTATIONS,
PROCLAIM MONDAY, MAY 22nd, 1961, AS NATIONAL MARITIME
DAY, reminding our citizens that American Merchant ships and American
seamen are ready at all times to serve our Nation in the cause
of freedom and justice. IN TESTIMONY WHEREOF, I have
hereunto set my hand and caused the seal of the State to be affixed
this 20th day of April, in the year of Our Lord, one thousand nine
hundred and sixty-one, and of Independence, the one hundred and eighty-fifth.

Governor

#MISS RHODE ISLAND PAGEANT WEEK PROCLAMATION BY JOHN A& NOTTE, JR&
GOVERNOR#

The Miss Rhode Island Pageant is sponsored by the

Rhode Island Junior Chamber of Commerce as a part of the nation-wide
search for the typical American girl- a Miss America from Rhode
Island. This is an official preliminary contest of the Miss America
Pageant held each September in Atlantic City. The ideal girl-
possessed of talent, poise, intelligence, personality and beauty
of face and figure- is chosen each year to represent Rhode Island.

Many hours are given free by the Jaycees to make this and all
local pageants outstanding events. Proceeds realized from these pageants
are used by the Jaycees to help support their various youth, health,
welfare and community betterment activities throughout the state.

Miss Sally May Saabye, (Miss Rhode Island 1960) says that
within a short time- on June 17th- her reign will come to an
end. She hopes that all will support the contestants from our own community
by attending our Pageants and the State Pageant June 17;
AND NOW, THEREFORE, DO I, JOHN A& NOTTE, JR&, GOVERNOR OF THE STATE
OF RHODE ISLAND AND PROVIDENCE PLANTATIONS, PROCLAIM THE WEEK OF
JUNE 11TH TO 17TH, 1961, AS MISS RHODE ISLAND PAGEANT WEEK, with deep
appreciation to the Jaycees, local and statewide, for the presentation
of their beautiful Pageants and the encouragement of all Rhode
Island girls to participate. IN TESTIMONY WHEREOF, I have
hereunto set my hand and caused the seal of the State to be affixed
this 11th day of June, in the year of Our Lord, one thousand nine
hundred and sixty-one, and of Independence, the one hundred and eighty-sixth.

Governor

#UNITED NATIONS DAY PROCLAMATION BY JOHN A& NOTTE, JR&, GOVERNOR#

For the purpose of maintaining international peace and promoting

the advancement of all people, the United States of America joined
in founding the United Nations. The United Nations Charter
sets forth standards which, if adhered to, will promote peace and justice
throughout the world. It is extremely important for each American
to realize that the theme "The United Nations is your business"
applies to him personally. The world desperately needs the
United Nations. United Nations Day is the birthday of the United
Nations, mankind's noblest attempt to establish lasting peace with
justice; AND NOW, THEREFORE, DO I, JOHN A& NOTTE, JR&, GOVERNOR
OF THE STATE OF RHODE ISLAND AND PROVIDENCE PLANTATIONS, PROCLAIM
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 24TH, 1961, AS UNITED NATIONS DAY, calling upon
all
our citizens to engage in appropriate observances, demonstrating faith
in the United Nations and thereby contributing to a better understanding
of the aims of the United Nations throughout the land.

IN TESTIMONY WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand and caused

the seal of the State to be affixed this 5th day of July, in the year
of Our Lord, one thousand nine hundred and sixty-one, and of Independence,
the one hundred and eighty-sixth. governor

#THE STATE BALLET OF RHODE ISLAND WEEK PROCLAMATION BY JOHN A& NOTTE,
JR&, GOVERNOR#

The ballet originated in Italy about 1450. At

that time it was a series of sophisticated social dances whose steps
were often combined with other steps devised by the choreographer. Ballet
flowered in Italy during the next hundred years, and about 1550
was carried to France when the Italian princess, Catherine de Medicis,
married the King of France. The most famous ballet of that time
was called Ballet Comique de la Reine (1581). Dances alternated
with sung or spoken verses. Ballets were used in opera from its beginning.
They were placed either in the middle of the acts or in the intermissions.

The State Ballet of Rhode Island, the first

incorporated group, was formed for the purpose of extending knowledge
of the art of ballet in the Community, to promote interest in ballet
performances, to contribute to the cultural life of the State, and to
provide opportunity for gifted dance students who, for one reason or
another, are unable to pursue a career and to develop others for the professional
state; AND NOW, THEREFORE, DO I, JOHN A& NOTTE, JR&,
GOVERNOR OF THE STATE OF RHODE ISLAND AND PROVIDENCE PLANTATIONS,
PROCLAIM THE WEEK OF MONDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 1961, AS THE STATE BALLET OF
RHODE ISLAND WEEK, requesting all Rhode Islanders to give special
attention to this unusual event which should contribute to the cultural
life of the State. IN TESTIMONY WHEREOF, I have hereunto
set my hand and caused the seal of the State to be affixed this
23d day of October, in the year of Our Lord, one thousand nine hundred
and sixty-one, and of Independence, the one hundred and eighty-sixth.

Governor

#PROCLAMATION THANKSGIVING DAY BY JOHN A& NOTTE, JR& GOVERNOR#

As another Thanksgiving draws near, let us take time out from the often
hectic pace of our lives to try and recapture the feelings that filled
the hearts of the Pilgrims on the first Thanksgiving. The
Pilgrims gathered to thank the Lord for His benevolence during
their first year in the new land. They had been through trying times,
but their faith in the Almighty had given them the courage and the strength
to meet and overcome the many problems and difficulties that were
the price they had to pay for freedom. And as the Pilgrims bowed
their heads in humble gratitude, they shared another feeling- the anticipation
of what the future held for them and their posterity. They
could not guess that from their concepts of liberty and freedom would
some day be born a new nation that for years would be the symbol of
hope to the oppressed countries of the world. They simply turned to God
filled with gratitude and faith. We who are living today may
learn a valuable lesson from those who celebrated the first Thanksgiving
Day. The Lord has shown time and time again His love for us.
We have only to compare the liberty and high standard of living we
enjoy in this great country with the oppression and frugality of other
nations to realize with humble gratitude that God's Providence has
been with us since the very beginning of our country. And yet, accompanying
our gratitude is the realization that we are living in a crucial
time. With world peace constantly being threatened, most of us regard
the future skeptically, and even with fear. It is at this time that
we should imitate the Pilgrims by accompanying our prayers of thanks
with the conviction that we shall continue to be in dire need for
the Lord's protection in the future, if we are to have peace; NOW,
THEREFORE, DO I, JOHN A& NOTTE, JR&, GOVERNOR OF THE STATE OF
RHODE ISLAND AND PROVIDENCE PLANTATIONS, PROCLAIM THURSDAY, NOVEMBER
23RD, 1961, AS THANKSGIVING DAY, And so, let us remember on
this day not only to thank the Almighty Who gave hope and courage
to the Pilgrims, but also to place our trust in Him that He will continue
to protect us in the future as He has in the past. IN
TESTIMONY WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand and caused the seal
of the State to be affixed this 21st day of November, in the year
of Our Lord, one thousand nine hundred and sixty-one and of Independence,
the one hundred and eighty-sixth. John A& Notte Jr&

Governor

<Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives

of the United States of America in Congress assembled>, That the
Act of July 3, 1952 (66 Stat& 328) as amended (42 U&S&C&
1952-1958), is further amended to read as follows: _SECTION 1._
In view of the increasing shortage of usable surface and ground water
in many parts of the Nation and the importance of finding new sources
of supply to meet its present and future water needs, it is the policy
of the Congress to provide for the development of practicable low-cost
means for the large-scale production of water of a quality suitable
for municipal, industrial, agricultural, and other beneficial consumptive
uses from saline water, and for studies and research related
thereto. As used in this Act, the term 'saline water' includes sea
water, brackish water, and other mineralized or chemically charged
water, and the term 'United States' extends to and includes the
District of Columbia, the Commonwealth of Puerto Rico, and the territories
and possessions of the United States. _SEC& 2._ In
order to accomplish the purposes of this Act, the Secretary of the Interior
shall- _(A)_ conduct, encourage, and promote fundamental
scientific research and basic studies to develop the best and most economical
processes and methods for converting saline water into water
suitable for beneficial consumptive purposes; _(B)_ conduct engineering
research and technical development work to determine, by laboratory
and pilot plant testing, the results of the research and studies
aforesaid in order to develop processes and plant designs to the point
where they can be demonstrated on a large and practical scale; _(C)_
recommend to the Congress from time to time authorization for
construction and operation, or for participation in the construction
and operation, of a demonstration plant for any process which he determines,
on the basis of subsections (~a) and (~b) above, has
great promise of accomplishing the purposes of this Act, such recommendation
to be accompanied by a report on the size, location, and cost
of the proposed plant and the engineering and economic details with
respect thereto; _(D)_ study methods for the recovery and marketing
of commercially valuable byproducts resulting from the conversion
of saline water; and _(E)_ undertake economic studies and surveys
to determine present and prospective costs of producing water for beneficial
consumptive purposes in various parts of the United States
by the leading saline water processes as compared with other standard
methods. _SEC& 3._ In carrying out his functions under section
2 of this Act, the Secretary may- _(A)_ acquire the services of
chemists, physicists, engineers, and other personnel by contract or
otherwise; _(B)_ enter into contracts with educational institutions,
scientific organizations, and industrial and engineering firms;
_(C)_ make research and training grants; _(D)_ utilize the
facilities of Federal scientific laboratories; _(E)_ establish
and operate necessary facilities and test sites at which to carry on the
continuous research, testing, development, and programing necessary
to effectuate the purposes of this Act; _(F)_ acquire secret
processes,
technical data, inventions, patent applications, patents, licenses,
land and interests in land (including water rights), plants and
facilities, and other property or rights by purchase, license, lease,
or donation; _(G)_ assemble and maintain pertinent and current
scientific literature, both domestic and foreign, and issue bibliographical
data with respect thereto; _(H)_ cause on-site inspections
to be made of promising projects, domestic and foreign, and, in the
case
of projects located in the United States, cooperate and participate
in their development in instances in which the purposes of this Act
will be served thereby; _(I)_ foster and participate in regional,
national, and international conferences relating to saline water conversion;
_(J)_ coordinate, correlate, and publish information
with a view to advancing the development of low-cost saline water conversion
projects; and _(K)_ cooperate with other Federal departments
and agencies, with State and local departments, agencies, and instrumentalities,
and with interested persons, firms, institutions, and
organizations. _SEC& 4. (A)_ Research and development activities
undertaken by the Secretary shall be coordinated or conducted jointly
with the Department of Defense to the end that developments under
this Act which are primarily of a civil nature will contribute to the
defense of the Nation and that developments which are primarily of
a military nature will, to the greatest practicable extent compatible
with military and security requirements, be available to advance the
purposes of this Act and to strengthen the civil economy of the Nation.
The fullest cooperation by and with Atomic Energy Commission,
the Department of Health, Education, and Welfare, the Department
of State, and other concerned agencies shall also be carried out in the
interest of achieving the objectives of this Act. _(B)_ All research
within the United States contracted for, sponsored, cosponsored,
or authorized under authority of this Act, shall be provided for
in such manner that all information, uses, products, processes, patents,
and other developments resulting from such research developed by Government
expenditure will (with such exceptions and limitations, if
any, as the Secretary may find to be necessary in the interest of national
defense) be available to the general public. This subsection shall
not be so construed as to deprive the owner of any background patent
relating thereto of such rights as he may have thereunder. _SEC&
5. (A)_ The Secretary may dispose of water and byproducts resulting
from his operations under this Act. All moneys received from dispositions
under this section shall be paid into the Treasury as miscellaneous
receipts) _(B)_ Nothing in the Act shall be construed to
alter existing law with respect to the ownership and control of water.
_SEC& 6._ The Secretary shall make reports to the President
and the Congress at the beginning of each regular session of the action
taken or instituted by him under the provisions of this Act and
of prospective action during the ensuing year. _SEC& 7._ The Secretary
of the Interior may issue rules and regulations to effectuate
the purposes of this Act. _SEC& 8._ There are authorized to
be appropriated such sums, to remain available until expended, as may
be necessary, but not more than $75,000,000 in all, (a) to carry out
the provisions of this Act during the fiscal years 1962 to 1967, inclusive;
(b) to finance, for not more than two years beyond the end of
said period, such grants, contracts, cooperative agreements, and studies
as may theretofore have been undertaken pursuant to this Act; and
(c) to finance, for not more than three years beyond the end of said
period, such activities as are required to correlate, coordinate, and
round out the results of studies and research undertaken pursuant to
this Act: <Provided>, That funds available in any one year for
research and development may, subject to the approval of the Secretary
of State to assure that such activities are consistent with the foreign
policy objectives of the United States, be expended in cooperation
with public or private agencies in foreign countries in the development
of processes useful to the program in the United States: <And
provided further>, That every such contract or agreement made with
any public or private agency in a foreign country shall contain provisions
effective to insure that the results or information developed
in connection therewith shall be available without cost to the United
States for the use of the United States throughout the world and
for the use of the general public within the United States.
_SEC& 2._ Section 4 of the joint resolution of September 2, 1958
(72 Stat& 1707; 42 U& S& C& 1958 (~d)), is hereby
amended
to read: The authority of the Secretary of the Interior under
this joint resolution to construct, operate, and maintain demonstration
plants shall terminate upon the expiration of twelve years after
the date on which this joint resolution is approved. Upon the expiration
of a period deemed adequate for demonstration purposes for each
plant, but not to exceed such twelve-year period, the Secretary shall
proceed as promptly as practicable to dispose of any plants so constructed
by sale to the highest bidder, or as may otherwise be directed by
Act of Congress. Upon such sale, there shall be returned to any State
or public agency which has contributed financial assistance under
section 3 of this joint resolution a proper share of the net proceeds
of the sale. Approved September 22, 1961.

<Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives

of the United States of America in Congress assembled>, That the
Secretary of the Interior is hereby authorized and directed to make
or cause to be made a study covering- _(1)_ the causes of injuries
and health hazards in metal and nonmetallic mines (excluding coal
and lignite mines); _(2)_ the relative effectiveness of voluntary
versus mandatory reporting of accident statistics; _(3)_ the
relative contribution to safety of inspection programs embodying- _(A)_
right-of-entry only and _(B)_ right-of-entry plus enforcement
authority; _(4)_ the effectiveness of health and safety education
and training; _(5)_ the magnitude of effort and costs of each
of these possible phases of an effective safety program for metal
and nonmetallic mines (excluding coal and lignite mines); and _(6)_
the scope and adequacy of State mine-safety laws applicable to such
mines and the enforcement of such laws. _SEC& 2. (A)_ The Secretary
of the Interior or any duly authorized representative shall
be entitled to admission to, and to require reports from the operator
of, any metal or nonmetallic mine which is in a State (excluding any
coal or lignite mine), the products of which regularly enter commerce
or the operations of which substantially affect commerce, for the purpose
of gathering data and information necessary for the study authorized
in the first section of this Act. _(B)_ As used in this section-
_(1)_ the term "State" includes the Commonwealth of Puerto
Rico and any possession of the United States; and _(2)_
the term "commerce" means commerce between any State and any place
outside thereof, or between points within the same State but through
any place outside thereof. _SEC& 3._ The Secretary of the Interior
shall submit a report of his findings, together with recommendations
for an effective safety program for metal and nonmetallic mines
(excluding coal and lignite mines) based upon such findings, to the
Congress not more than two years after the date of enactment of this
Act. Approved September 26, 1961.

<Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives

of the United States of America in Congress assembled>, That the
Secretary of the Interior is hereby authorized and directed to establish
and maintain a program of stabilization payments to small domestic
producers of lead and zinc ores and concentrates in order to stabilize
the mining of lead and zinc by small domestic producers on public,
Indian, and other lands as provided in this Act. _SEC& 2. (A)_
Subject to the limitations of this Act, the Secretary shall make
stabilization payments to small domestic producers upon presentation of
evidence satisfactory to him of their status as such producers and of
the sale by them of newly mined ores, or concentrates produced therefrom,
as provided in this Act. Payments shall be made only with respect
to the metal content as determined by assay. _(B)_ Such payments
shall be made to small domestic producers of lead as long as the market
price for common lead at New York, New York, as determined by
the Secretary, is below 14-1/2 cents per pound, and such payments shall
be 75 per centum of the difference between 14-1/2 cents per pound
and the average market price for the month in which the sale occurred
as determined by the Secretary. _(C)_ Such payments shall be made
to small domestic producers of zinc as long as the market price for
prime western zinc at East Saint Louis, Illinois, as determined by
the Secretary, is below 14-1/2 cents per pound, and such payments shall
be 55 per centum of the difference between 14-1/2 cents per pound
and the average market price for the month in which the sale occurred
as determined by the Secretary. _(D)_ The maximum amount of payments
which may be made pursuant to this Act on account of sales of newly
mined ores or concentrates produced therefrom made during the calendar
year 1962 shall not exceed $4,500,000; the maximum amount of such
payments which may be made on account of such sales made during the
calendar year 1963 shall not exceed $4,500,000; the maximum amount
of such payments which may be made on account of such sales made during
the calendar year 1964 shall not exceed $4,000,000; and the maximum
amount of such payments which may be made on account of such sales
made during the calendar year 1965 shall not exceed $3,500,000.
In the same period, 431 presentations by members of the staff were made
to local, national, and international medical groups. _3. EDUCATION:_
_A._ The education function of the Institute is carried
on by the staff in the departments of pathology and its consultants.
During fiscal year 1959, six courses were conducted: Forensic Pathology,
Application of Histochemistry to Pathology, Pathology of Diseases
of Laboratory Animals, Opthalmic Pathology, Pathology of
the Oral Regions, and a Cardiovasculatory Pathology Seminar. During
fiscal year 1960, seven courses were conducted: Application of
Histochemistry to Pathology, Forensic Pathology, Pathology of Diseases
of Laboratory Animals, Pathology of the Oral Regions, Opthalmic
Pathology, Forensic Sciences Symposium, and Orthopedic Pathology.
From 1 July 1960 through 31 January 1961, six courses were
conducted: Workshop in Resident Training in Pathology, Pathology
of Diseases of Laboratory Animals, Application of Histochemistry
of Pathology, Orthopedic Pathology, Forensic Sciences Symposium,
and Forensic Pathology. _B._ During fiscal years 1959 and
1960, there were 139 military and civilian students who came to the Institute
for varying periods of special instruction. _4. RESEARCH:_
The Institute is engaged in an extensive program of medico-military
scientific research in both morphological and experimental pathology.
Among the specific areas of concentration in which the staff is engaged,
are such projects as biological and biochemical studies of the
effects of microwaves; study of motor end plates in man and animals;
investigation of respiratory diseases of laboratory animals; metabolic
responses to reduced oxygen tension; neuropathology of nuclear
and cosmic radiation; carcinoma of prostate; evaluation of histochemical
techniques; and hip dysplasia in dogs. There has been an
increase in cooperative research with other Federal agencies and civilian
institutions. During the period from 1 July 1960 through
31 January 1961, additional research affiliations were effected with
the U& S& Army Medical Research and Development Command to
conduct research in procedures for quantitative electron microscopy, and
for the study of biophysical and biological studies of the structure
and function of ocular tissue. Also, the Defense Atomic Support
Agency sponsored a long-range study at this Institute on the response
of massive suspension cultures of mammalian cells to acute radiation.
Other scientific agencies, both Federal and civilian, supported studies
in quantitative electron microscopical approach to microchemistry
and microcytochemistry; the investigation of the relationship of
diphosphopyridine
nucleotide synthesizine enzyme to tumor growth; morphological
study and classification of leukemia and lymphoma cases in
animals; and the study of structural changes in M& leprae and other
mycobacteria. _MEDICAL ILLUSTRATION SERVICE_ _1._ The Medical
Illustration Service is responsible for the collection, publication,
exhibition, and file of medical illustration material of medico-military
importance to the Armed Forces. In addition to maintaining
a permanent central file of illustrations of diseases, wounds, and injuries
of military importance, it provides facilities for clinical photography,
photomicrography, and medical arts, and operates a printing
plant, by permission of Congressional Committee, for publication of
an "Atlas of Tumor Pathology". It also maintains shops for the
design and fabrication of exhibits, training aids and instruments and
libraries for the loan of films and teaching lantern slide sets. _2._
During this period, a total of 762 exhibits were presented at 442
medical and scientific meetings. Of these exhibits, 154 were newly
constructed. Twenty-nine exhibits received awards. _3._ Visual and
operable training aids developed by the Medical Illustration Service,
were used in support of Army Medical Service mass casualty exercises.
Members of the Medical Illustration Service lectured and
conducted demonstrations on the use of training aids to military personnel
and various civilian medical organizations. Demonstrations of new
and projected training aids were conducted at the Medical Service
Instructor's Conference, Brooke Army Medical Center, Texas. _4._
In support of the emphasis placed by the Department of Defense
on instruction in emergency medical care, the Medical Illustration
Service developed casualty simulation kits and rescue breathing manikins
which are being field tested; and overhead projector transparency
sets on the subjects of Military Sanitation: First Aid for
Soldiers; Bandaging and Splinting; the Emergency Medical Treatment
Unit, Phase /1,; and Emergency War Surgery in support
of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (~NATO) Handbook.
Fifty lantern slide teaching sets on the subject of "Emergency War
Surgery (~NATO)" were assembled and distributed to the Medical
Military Services of foreign Governments associated with ~NATO
and South-East Asia Treaty Organization. The British and
Canadian Liaison Officers, as well as Office of Civil and Defense
Mobilization, the American Red Cross, and similar interested organizations
were informed from time to time as training aids were developed.
_5._ Nine veterinary lantern slide teaching sets were developed
and distributed, and lantern slide teaching sets on 21 pathology
subjects were added to the loan library of the Medical Illustration
Service. Illustrations were prepared for 11 Department of the Army
manuals and one Graphic Training Aid. Sixteen lantern slide sets
were loaned to the Government of India and eight sets were forwarded
to the U&S& Embassy, Managua, Nicaragua for the Educational
Exchange Program. The Senate Subcommittee on Reorganization and
International Organizations was provided samples of visual aids on
first aid and personal health produced by the Medical Illustration
Service. _6._ Six fascicles (10,000 copies each) of the "Atlas
of Tumor Pathology" were completed during the period of this report.
_THE AMERICAN REGISTRY OF PATHOLOGY_ This consists of 25 individual
registries, two of which were added during fiscal years 1959-1960
(the Registry of Forensic Pathology and the Testicular Tumor
Registry). These registries are sponsored by 18 national medical,
dental, and veterinary societies and have as their mission the assembling
of selected cases of interest to military medicine and of establishing
through the mechanism of follow-up of living patients the natural
history of various diseases of military-medical importance. The American
Registry of Pathology operates as a cooperative enterprise in
medical research and education between the Armed Forces Institute of
Pathology and the civilian medical profession on a national and international
basis, under such conditions as may be agreed upon between
the National Research Council and The Surgeons General of the Army,
Navy, and Air Force. The staff utilized the collected material
in these registries for numerous lectures to national and international
meetings, exhibits, and published studies. During the period of this
report, 37,470 new cases were entered into the various registries.
These were selected carefully and included not only detailed clinical
information but adequate pathology of value for research and educational
purposes. In this same period, six new fascicles of the Atlas
of Tumor Pathology were published and distributed to medical centers
world-wide. There were 54,320 copies of fascicles sold and 642
copies distributed free during this period. Forty-five new Clinico-pathologic
Conferences were prepared, bringing the total to 61 available
for loan distribution. Nine new teaching Clinico-pathologic Conference
sets were prepared, which makes a total of 70 types of teaching
sets for loan. During this period, 7,827 teaching sets were distributed
on loan. The Clinico-pathologic Conferences have been acknowledged
as of great value and in consequent great demand by the small isolated
military hospitals. The demand for teaching sets continues unabated
since they provide the means for the military physicians to review
the pathology of selected disease processes or organ systems for review
of basic sciences and correlation of clinical physiological behavior
with structural changes. _THE MEDICAL MUSEUM_ In fiscal year 1959,
the Medical Museum was moved to Chase Hall, a temporary building
on Independence Avenue at Ninth Street, Southwest, and continued
to display to the public the achievements of the Armed Forces Medical
Services. During the period of this report, 63 panel exhibits
depicting the latest developments in medical research were displayed.
Of the 375 exhibits (of all types) shown, 161 were new or refurbished.
Of the 885 specimens newly mounted or refurbished, 254 were prepared
for other agencies. Eighty-five specimens were loaned for study
purposes. An exhibit, "Macropathology- An Ancient Art, A new
Science", was presented at the annual meeting of the American Medical
Association. A three-dimensional exhibit depicting "A
Century of Naval Medicine" was formally presented to The Director
by George S& Squibb, great-grandson of the founder of E&
R& Squibb and Sons, for permanent display in the Museum.

Space was provided for short-time guest medical exhibits, and the
Museum collected new accessions of microscopes, medical, surgical, and
diagnostic instruments, uniform, and similar items of historical medico-military
significance. During the period, the laboratory rendered
centralized macropathological service to qualified requesters.
Specimens were mounted for military installations, governmental agencies,
and medical schools. Three hundred five copies of the <Manual
of Macropathological Techniques> were distributed. Thirty-five
military and civilian students received laboratory training.

During fiscal years 1959 and 1960, there were 795,586 visitors to the
Museum. During the period from 1 July 1960 through 31 January
1961, the Medical Museum was required to move to Temporary Building
"~S" on the Mall from Chase Hall. Throughout the period
and during the movement operation, the Museum continued its functional
support of the Armed Forces Institute of Pathology.

#ARMED FORCES
MEDICAL PUBLICATION AGENCY#

The Armed Forces Medical Publication

Agency, established in 1949, has published, since January 1950,
the United States Armed Forces Medical Journal as a triservice
publication
to furnish material of professional interest to Medical Department
officers of the three military services. Its supplement, the Medical
Technicians Bulletin, supplied similar material to enlisted
medical personnel. These publications replaced the U& S& Naval
Medical Bulletin, published continuously from 1907 through 1959, as
well as the Navy's Hospital Corps Quarterly and the Bulletin of
the U& S& Army Medical Department, published from 1922 to 1949.
In addition, their establishment made it unnecessary to begin publication
of a contemplated Air Force medical bulletin. Estimated annual
savings resulting from publication of the Journal and Bulletin
on a triservice basis, as compared with the cost of producing separate
periodicals for each service, were between $65,000 and $70,000. Additionally,
on the many ships at sea and in the smaller naval stations,
the availability of the Journal removed the necessity of subscribing
to several additional journals of civilian origin over and above the
quantity now authorized, in order to provide any reasonably comparable
coverage. From 1 July 1958 to 30 June 1960, 24 numbers of
the
Journal and nine of the Bulletin were published. Each Journal contained
articles of professional and clinical interest, and departments
devoted to military medical news, reviews of new books, and other features
of interest to officers of the medical services. The Council
on National Defense of the American Medical Association contributed
a brief article to each issue entitled, "This is Your A&M&A&".

Beginning with the October 1959 issue of the Journal,

the method of production of copy for photo-offset reproduction was
changed from varityping to hot typesetting. This resulted in an improved
appearance, but was followed by an increase in printing cost that
necessitated the institution of major economies to keep within the total
of allocated funds. The use of 100 instead of 140 substance paper
plus the adoption of side stapling beginning with the May 1960 issue
reduced costs sufficiently to allow completion of the fiscal year with
nearly $4,000 in unexpended funds. Two special issues were
published, one for November 1959 on Space Medicine, the other the
Tenth Anniversary issue for January 1960. The February 1960 issue
marked the reinstitution of the section entitled, "The Medical Officer
Writes". Replacing the discontinued Medical Technicians
Bulletin,
publication of which was suspended with the November-December
1959 issue, a section called "Technical Notes" was inaugurated
on a bimonthly basis beginning with the April 1960 issue. Occasional
features were published on historical medicine, special reports, bibliography,
and "Collector's Items". In May 1960, the Armed
Forces Institute of Pathology began a series of articles on the "Medical
Museum", and in June, the Institute started contributing
a regular monthly "Case for Diagnosis". The Institute also planned
to furnish a regular series of articles, beginning in the fall
of 1960, on its more significant Scientific Exhibits. The Armed
Forces Epidemiological Board agreed to submit each month a report
for one of its 12 commissions, so that each commission will report
once a year on some phase of its work calculated to be of particular interest
and value to medical officers of the Armed Forces. The first
report in this continuing series appeared in the September 1960 issue
of the Journal.
Another recent achievement was the successful development of a method
for the complete combustion in a bomb calorimeter of a metal in fluorine
when the product is relatively non-volatile. This work gave a heat
of formation of aluminum fluoride which closely substantiates a value
which had been determined by a less direct method, and raises this
property to 15 percent above that accepted a few years ago. Similar measurements
are being initiated to resolve a large discrepancy in the
heat of formation of another important combustion product, beryllium fluoride.

The development and testing of new apparatus to measure

other properties is nearing completion. In one of these, an exploding-wire
device to study systems thermodynamically up to 6,000 **f and
100 atmospheres pressure, a major goal was achieved. The accuracy of
measuring the total electrical energy entering an exploding wire during
a few microseconds was verified when two independent types of comparison
with the heat energy produced had an uncertainty of less than 2
percent. This agreement is considered very good for such short time intervals.
The method of calibration employs a fixed resistance element
as a calorimeter. The element is inserted
in the discharge circuit in place of the exploding wire,
and the calorimetric heating of the element is measured with high accuracy.
This is used as a reference for comparing the ohmic heating and
the electrical energy obtained from the measured current through the
element and the measured voltage across the element. A high-speed
shutter has been developed in order to permit photographic observation
of any portion of the electrical wire explosion. The shutter consists
of two parts: a fast-opening part and a fast-closing part. Using
Edgerton's method, the fast-closing action is obtained from the
blackening of a window by exploding a series of parallel lead wires.
The fast-opening of the shutter consists of a piece of aluminum foil
(approximately **f) placed directly in front of the camera lens so that
no light may pass into the camera. The opening action is obtained
when a capacitor, charged to high voltage, is suddenly discharged through
the foil. During the discharge the magnetic forces set up by the
passage of current cause the edges of the foil to roll inward toward
its center line, thus allowing light to pass into the camera. Experiments
have shown that the shutter is 75 percent open in about 60-80 microseconds.
The shutter aperture may be made larger or smaller by changing
the foil area and adjusting the electrical energy input to the foil.
_LABORATORY MEASUREMENTS OF INTERSTELLAR RADIO SPECTRA._ Besides
the well-known hydrogen line at 21 ~cm wavelength, the spectra of
extraterrestrial radio sources may contain sharp lines characteristic
of other atoms, ions, and small molecules. The detection and study
of such line spectra would add considerably to present information on
interstellar gas clouds and, perhaps, planetary atmospheres. Among the
most likely producers of detectable radio line spectra are the light
diatomic hydrides ~OH and ~CH; somewhat less likely sources
are the heavier hydrides ~SH, ~SiH, and ~ScH. Very small
concentrations of these hydrides should be detectable; in interstellar
gas, concentrations as low as **f molecules/**f may be sufficient,
as compared to the **f hydrogen atoms **f required for detection of
the 21-~cm line. High sensitivity in radio telescopes is achieved
by reducing the bandwidth of the receiver; therefore, only with
precise foreknowledge of the line frequencies is an astronomical
search for the radio spectra of these molecules feasible. To secure precise
measurements of these frequencies, a research program in free radical
microwave spectroscopy has been started. Since conventional methods
are insensitive at the low frequencies of these molecular transitions,
the paramagnetic resonance method is being used instead. This
involves the application of a strong magnetic field to the radical vapor,
which shifts the low-frequency spectra to a conveniently high microwave
range, where they may be measured with optimum sensitivity.

The first diatomic hydride investigated by the paramagnetic resonance

method was the ~OH radical. Results of this experiment include
the frequencies of the two strong spectral lines by which ~OH may
be identified in interstellar gas; the frequencies are 1665.32 and
1667.36 **f, with an uncertainty of 0.10 **f. Success in observing these
spectral lines has so far, apparently, been confined to the laboratory;
extraterrestrial observations have yet to be reported. Preparations
are being made for similar experiments on ~CH and ~SH
radicals. _LOW TEMPERATURE THERMOMETRY._ The Bureau is pursuing
an active program to provide a temperature scale and thermometer calibration
services in the range 1.5 to 20 **f. The efforts and accomplishments
fall into three main categories: absolute thermometry based
upon the velocity of sound in helium gas, secondary thermometry involving
principally studies of the behavior of germanium resistors, and helium-4
vapor-pressure measurements (see p& 144). _ACOUSTICAL INTERFEROMETER._
An acoustical interferometer has been constructed and
used, with helium gas as the thermometric fluid, to measure temperatures
near 4.2 and 2.1 **f. Such an interferometer provides a means of absolute
temperature measurement, and may be used as an alternative to
the gas thermometer. When values of temperature derived with this instrument
were compared with the accepted values associated with liquid
helium-4 vapor pressures, differences of about 10 and 7 millidegrees respectively
were found. This result is preliminary, and work is continuing.
_RESISTANCE THERMOMETERS._ Carbon resistors and impurity-doped
germanium resistors have been investigated for use as precision secondary
thermometers in the liquid helium temperature region. Several
germanium resistors have been thermally cycled from 300 to 4.2 **f and
their resistances have been found to be reproducible within 1/3 millidegree
when temperatures were derived from a vapor pressure thermometer
whose tubing is jacketed through most of the liquid helium. Preliminary
calibrations of the resistors have been made from 4.21 to 2.16
**f at every 0.1 **f. The estimated standard deviations of the data for
two of the resistors were @ 1 millidegree; and for the third resistor,
@ 3.3 millidegrees. _VAPOR PRESSURE METHOD._ The reproducibilities
of helium vapor-pressure thermometers have been investigated
in conjunction with a "constant temperature" liquid helium bath
from 4.2 to 1.8 **f. Surface temperature gradients have been found to
exist in liquid helium baths contained in 15-and 25-liter metallic storage
dewars. The gradient was about one half of a millidegree at 4.2
**f but increased to several millidegrees for bath temperatures slightly
greater than the ~|l point. A hydrostatic head correction has
been neither necessary nor applicable in the determination of vapor pressures
or temperatures for the bulk liquid helium. However, the surface
temperature gradient can produce erroneous vapor-pressure measurements
for the bulk liquid helium unless precautions are taken to isolate
the tube (which passes through the surface to the vapor pressure bulb)
from the liquid helium surface. It has also been observed, in helium
/2,, that large discrepancies can exist between surface vapor pressures
and those pressures measured by a vapor pressure thermometer. This
has been attributed to helium film flow in the vapor pressure thermometer.
In this case also the design of the thermometer can be modified
to reduce the helium film flow. _PRESSURE TRANSDUCER FOR ~PVT
MEASUREMENTS._ Precise pressure-volume-temperature measurements on
corrosive gases are dependent on a sensitive yet rugged pressure transducer.
A prototype which fulfills the requirements was developed and
thoroughly tested. The transducer is a null-type instrument and employs
a stretched diaphragm, 0.001 in& thick and 1 in& in diameter.
A small pressure unbalance displaces the diaphragm and changes the capacitance
between the diaphragm and an electrically insulated plate spaced
0.001 in& apart (for **f). Spherical concave backing surfaces
support the diaphragm when excessive pressures are applied and prevent
the stresses within the diaphragm from exceeding the elastic limit.
Over a temperature range from 25 to 200 **f and at pressures up to
250 ~atm, an overload of 300 ~psi, applied for a period of one day,
results in an uncertainty in the pressure of, at most, one millimeter
of mercury. _TRANSPORT PROPERTIES OF AIR._ A 6-year study of the
transport properties of air at elevated temperatures has been completed.
This project was carried out under sponsorship of the Ballistic
Missile Division of the Air Research and Development Command, U&S&
Air Force, and had as its goal the investigation of the transport
by diffusion of the heat energy of chemical binding. A significant
effect discovered during the study is the existence of Prandtl
numbers reaching values of more than unity in the nitrogen dissociation
region. Another effect discovered is the large coefficient of thermal
diffusion tending to separate nitrogen from the oxygen when temperature
differences straddling the nitrogen dissociation region are present.
The results of the study, based on collision integrals computed from
the latest critically evaluated data on intermolecular forces in air,
will be reported in the form of a table of viscosity, thermal conductivity,
thermal diffusion, and diffusion coefficients at temperatures
of 1,000 to 10,000 **f and of logarithm of pressure in atmospheres from
**f to **f times normal density. _INTERNATIONAL COOPERATIVE ACTIVITIES._
In March, 1961, representatives of the national laboratories
of Australia, Canada, The Netherlands, United Kingdom, U&S&S&R&,
United States, and West Germany, met at the ~NBS
to devise means for reaching international agreement on a temperature
scale between 10 and 90 **f. As a first step toward this goal,
arrangements were worked out for comparing the scales now in use through
circulation of a group of standard platinum resistance thermometers
for calibration by each national laboratory. Such a group of thermometers
was obtained and calibrated at the ~NBS. These thermometers
have now been sent to the United Kingdom for calibration at the National
Physical Laboratory. _TEMPERATURE SYMPOSIUM._ During the
last week of march 1961, Columbus, Ohio was the site of the Fourth
Symposium on Temperature, Its Measurement and Control in Science
and Industry. The Symposium, which was jointly sponsored by the
American Institute of Physics, the Instrument Society of America,
and the National Bureau of Standards, attracted nearly one thousand
registrants, including many from abroad. The Bureau contributed
to the planning and success of the Symposium through the efforts of Mr&
W& A& Wildhack, General Chairman, and Dr& C& M&
Herzfeld, Program Chairman. Dr& A& V& Astin, ~NBS
Director, opened the 5-day session with introductory remarks, following
which a total of twenty-six papers were given throughout the week
by ~NBS scientists, from both the Washington and Boulder Laboratories.

#2.1.6. ATOMIC PHYSICS#

In addition to the basic programs

in wavelength standards, spectroscopy, solid state physics, interactions
of the free electron and atomic constants which are necessary to
provide the foundation for technological progress, the Bureau has strengthened
its activities in laboratory astrophysics. The programs in
infrared spectroscopy are undergoing reorientation toward wavelength standards
in the far infrared, the application of infrared techniques to
solid state studies, and increased emphasis on high resolution instrumentation.
Two data centers have been established for the collection,
indexing, critical evaluation, and dissemination of bibliographies and
critical values in the fields of transition probabilities and collision
cross sections. _LABORATORY ASTROPHYSICS._ _TRANSITION PROBABILITIES._
Under the sponsorship of the Office of Naval Research
and the Advanced Research Projects Agency, a data center was established
to gather and index all published information on atomic transition
probabilities. An exhaustive survey was made of the literature,
and a primary reference file of approximately 600 references was catalogued.
Selected bibliographies and tables of available data are now
in preparation. A wall-stabilized high-current arc source was
constructed and used to study transition probabilities of atomic hydrogen
and oxygen. This apparatus will also be used to measure transition
probabilities of a large number of other elements. A study of the hydrogen
line profiles indicates that a measurement of these profiles can
be used to calculate a temperature for the arc plasma that is reliable
to about **f percent. A set of tables containing spectral intensities
for 39,000 lines of 70 elements, as observed in a copper matrix
in a ~d-c arc, was completed and published. Studies of the intensity
data indicate that they may be converted to approximate transition
probabilities. These data are not of the precision obtainable by
the methods previously mentioned, but the vast number of approximate values
available will be useful in many areas. _ATOMIC ENERGY LEVELS._
Research continues on the very complex spectra of the rare earth
elements. New computer and automation techniques were applied to these
spectra with considerable success.
_(E)_ In addition to the penalties provided in title 18, United
States Code, section 1001, any person guilty of any act, as provided
therein, with respect to any matter under this Title, shall forfeit
all rights under this Title, and, if payment shall have been made or
granted, the Commission shall take such action as may be necessary to
recover the same. _(F)_ In connection with any claim decided by
the Commission pursuant to this Title in which an award is made, the
Commission may, upon the written request of the claimant or any attorney
heretofore or hereafter employed by such claimant, determine and
apportion the just and reasonable attorney's fees for services rendered
with respect to such claim, but the total amount of the fees so determined
in any case shall not exceed 10 per centum of the total amount
paid pursuant to the award. Written evidence that the claimant and
any such attorney have agreed to the amount of the attorney's fees
shall be conclusive upon the Commission: <Provided, however>, That
the total amount of the fees so agreed upon does not exceed 10 per
centum of the total amount paid pursuant to the award. Any fee so determined
shall be entered as a part of such award, and payment thereof
shall be made by the Secretary of the Treasury by deducting the amount
thereof from the total amount paid pursuant to the award. Any agreement
to the contrary shall be unlawful and void. The Commission is
authorized and directed to mail to each claimant in proceedings before
the Commission notice of the provisions of this subsection. Whoever,
in the United States or elsewhere, pays or offers to pay, or promises
to pay, or receives on account of services rendered or to be rendered
in connection with any such claim, compensation which, when added
to any amount previously paid on account of such services, will exceed
the amount of fees so determined by the Commission, shall be guilty
of a misdemeanor, and, upon conviction thereof, shall be fined not more
than $5,000 or imprisoned not more than twelve months, or both, and
if any such payment shall have been made or granted, the Commission
shall take such action as may be necessary to recover the same, and, in
addition thereto, any such person shall forfeit all rights under this
title. _(G)_ The Attorney General shall assign such officers
and employees of the Department of Justice as may be necessary to represent
the United States as to any claims of the Government of the
United States with respect to which the Commission has jurisdiction
under this title. Any and all payments required to be made by the
Secretary of the Treasury under this title pursuant to any award made
by the Commission to the Government of the United States shall be
covered into the Treasury to the credit of miscellaneous receipts.
_(H)_ The Commission shall notify all claimants of the approval
or denial of their claims, stating the reasons and grounds therefor, and
if approved, shall notify such claimants of the amount for which such
claims are approved. Any claimant whose claim is denied, or is approved
for less than the full amount of such claim, shall be entitled,
under such regulations as the Commission may prescribe, to a hearing
before the Commission, or its duly authorized representatives, with
respect to such claim. Upon such hearing, the Commission may affirm,
modify, or revise its former action with respect to such claim, including
a denial or reduction in the amount theretofore allowed with respect
to such claim. The action of the Commission in allowing or denying
any claim under this title shall be final and conclusive on all questions
of law and fact and not subject to review by the Secretary of
State or any other official, department, agency, or establishment of
the United States or by any court by mandamus or otherwise. _(I)_
The Commission may in its discretion enter an award with respect
to one or more items deemed to have been clearly established in an individual
claim while deferring consideration and action on other items
of the same claim. _(J)_ The Commission shall comply with the provisons
of the Administrative Procedure Act of 1946 except as otherwise
specifically provided by this title. _SEC& 5._ The Commission
shall, as soon as possible, and in the order of the making of such
awards, certify to the Secretary of the Treasury and to the Secretary
of State copies of the awards made in favor of the Government
of the United States or of nationals of the United States under this
Title. The Commission shall certify to the Secretary of State,
upon his request, copies of the formal submissions of claims filed pursuant
to subsection (~b) of section 4 of this Act for transmission
to
the foreign government concerned. _SEC& 6._ The Commission shall
complete its affairs in connection with settlement of United States-Yugoslav
claims arising under the Yugoslav Claims Agreement of
1948 not later than December 31, 1954: <Provided>, That nothing
in this provision shall be construed to limit the life of the Commission,
or its authority to act on future agreements which may be effected
under the provisions of this legislation. _SEC& 7. (A)_ Subject
to the limitations hereinafter provided, the Secretary of the Treasury
is authorized and directed to pay, as prescribed by section 8
of this Title, an amount not exceeding the principal of each award, plus
accrued interests on such awards as bear interest, certified pursuant
to section 5 of this Title, in accordance with the award. Such payments,
and applications for such payments, shall be made in accordance
with such regulations as the Secretary of the Treasury may prescribe.
_(B)_ There shall be deducted from the amount of each payment
made pursuant to subsection (~c) of section 8, as reimbursement for
the
expenses incurred by the United States, an amount equal to 5 per
centum of such payment. All amounts so deducted shall be covered into
the Treasury to the credit of miscellaneous receipts. _(C)_ Payments
made pursuant to this Title shall be made only to the person or
persons on behalf of whom the award is made, except that- _(1)_
if such person is deceased or is under a legal disability, payment shall
be made to his legal representative: <Provided>, That if the
total award is not over $500 and there is no qualified executor or administrator,
payment may be made to the person or persons found by the
Comptroller General of the United States to be entitled thereto,
without the necessity of compliance with the requirements of law with
respect to the administration of estates; _(2)_ in the case of
a partnership or corporation, the existence of which has been terminated
and on behalf of which an award is made, payment shall be made, except
as provided in paragraphs (3) and (4), to the person or persons found
by the Comptroller General of the United States to be entitled
thereto; _(3)_ if a receiver or trustee for any such partnership
or corporation has been duly appointed by a court of competent jurisdiction
in the United States and has not been discharged prior to the
date of payment, payment shall be made to such receiver or trustee
in accordance with the order of the court; _(4)_ if a receiver or
trustee for any such partnership or corporation, duly appointed by a
court of competent jurisdiction in the United States, makes an assignment
of the claim, or any part thereof, with respect to which an award
is made, or makes an assignment of such award, or any part thereof,
payment shall be made to the assignee, as his interest may appear;
and _(5)_
in the case of any assignment of an award, or any part thereof,
which is made in writing and duly acknowledged and filed, after such
award is certified to the Secretary of the Treasury, payment may, in
the discretion of the Secretary of the Treasury, be made to the assignee,
as his interest may appear. _(D)_ Whenever the Secretary
of the Treasury, or the Comptroller General of the United States,
as the case may be, shall find that any person is entitled to any such
payment, after such payment shall have been received by such person,
it shall be an absolute bar to recovery by any other person against
the United States, its officers, agents, or employees with respect
to such payment. _(E)_ Any person who makes application for any such
payment shall be held to have consented to all the provisions of this
Title. _(F)_ Nothing in the Title shall be construed as the
assumption of any liability by the United States for the payment or
satisfaction, in whole or in part, of any claim on behalf of any national
of the United States against any foreign government. _SEC&
8. (A)_ There are hereby created in the Treasury of the United States
(1) a special fund to be known as the Yugoslav Claims Fund;
and (2) such other special funds as may, in the discretion of the Secretary
of the Treasury, be required each to be a claims fund to be
known
by the name of the foreign government which has entered into a settlement
agreement with the Government of the United States as described
in subsection (~a)
of section 4 of this Title. There shall be covered
into the Treasury to the credit of the proper special fund all funds
hereinafter specified. All payments authorized under section 7 of this
Title shall be disbursed from the proper fund, as the case may be,
and all amounts covered into the Treasury to the credit of the aforesaid
funds are hereby permanently appropriated for the making of the
payments authorized by section 7 of this Title. _(B)_ The Secretary
of the Treasury is authorized and directed to cover into- _(1)_
the Yugoslav Claims Fund the sum of $17,000,000 being the amount
paid by the Government of the Federal People's Republic of
Yugoslavia pursuant to the Yugoslav Claims Agreement of 1948; _(2)_
a special fund created for that purpose pursuant to subsection
(~a)
of this section any amounts hereafter paid, in United States dollars,
by a foreign government which has entered into a claims settlement
agreement with the Government of the United States as described in
subsection (~a)
of section 4 of this Title. _(C)_ The Secretary
of the Treasury is authorized and directed out of the sums covered into
any of the funds pursuant to subsection (~b) of this section,
and after
making the deduction provided for in section 7 (~b) of this
Title-
_(1)_ to make payments in full of the principal of awards of $1,000
or less, certified pursuant to section 5 of this Title; _(2)_
to make payments of $1,000 on the principal of each award of more
than $1,000 in principal amount, certified pursuant
to section 5 of this Title; _(3)_ to make additional payment
of not to exceed 25 per centum of the unpaid principal of awards in the
principal amount of more than $1,000; _(4)_ after completing the
payments prescribed by paragraphs (2) and (3) of this subsection, to
make payments, from time to time in ratable proportions, on account
of the unpaid principal of all awards in the principal amount of more
than $1,000, according to the proportions which the unpaid principal of
such awards bear to the total amount in the fund available for distribution
at the time such payments are made; and _(5)_ after payment
has been made of the principal amounts of all such awards, to make
pro rata payments on account of accrued interest on such awards as bear
interest. _(D)_ The Secretary of the Treasury, upon the concurrence
of the Secretary of State, is authorized and directed, out of
the sum covered into the Yugoslav Claims Fund pursuant to subsection
(~b)
of this section, after completing the payments of such funds pursuant
to subsection (~c) of this section, to make payment of the balance
of any sum remaining in such fund to the Government of the Federal
People's Republic of Yugoslavia to the extent required under article
1 (~c) of the Yugoslav Claims Agreement of 1948. The Secretary
of State shall certify to the Secretary of the Treasury the
total cost of adjudication, not borne by the claimants, attributable
to the Yugoslav Claims Agreement of 1948. Such certification shall
be final and conclusive and shall not be subject to review by any other
official or department, agency, or establishment of the United States.
_SEC& 9._ There is hereby authorized to be appropriated,
out of any money in the Treasury not otherwise appropriated, such sums
as may be necessary to enable the Commission to carry out its functions
under this Title.
_MR& DOOLEY._ Mr& Speaker, for several years now the commuter
railroads serving our large metropolitan areas have found it increasingly
difficult to render the kind of service our expanding population
wants and is entitled to have. The causes of the decline of the commuter
railroads are many and complex- high taxes, losses of revenue to
Government subsidized highway and air carriers, to name but two. And
the solutions to the problems of the commuter lines have been equally
varied, ranging all the way from Government ownership to complete
discontinuance of this important service. There have been a number
of sound plans proposed. But none of these has been implemented.
Instead we have stood idly by, watched our commuter railroad service
decline, and have failed to offer a helping hand. Though the number
of people flowing in and out of our metropolitan areas each day has increased
tremendously since World War /2,, total annual rail commutation
dropped 124 million from 1947 to 1957. Nowhere has this decline
been more painfully evident than in the New York City area. Here the
New York Central Railroad, one of the Nation's most important
carriers, has alone lost 47.6 percent of its passengers since 1949.

At this time of crisis in our Nation's commuter railroads,

a new threat to the continued operations of the New York Central has
appeared in the form of the Chesapeake + Ohio Railroad's proposal
for control of the Baltimore + Ohio railroads. The New York
Central has pointed out that this control, if approved by the Interstate
Commerce Commission, would give the combined C& + O&-B&
+ O& Railroad a total of 185 points served in common with the
New York Central. Not only is this kind of duplication wasteful,
but it gives the combined system the ability to take freight traffic
away from the New York Central and other railroads serving the area.

The New York Central notes: " The freight traffic

most susceptible to raiding by the C& + O&-B& + O& provides
the backbone of Central's revenues. These revenues make it
possible to provide essential freight and passenger service over the entire
New York Central system as well as the New York area commuter
and terminal freight services. If these services are to be maintained,
the New York Central must have the revenues to make them possible".

The New York Central today handles 60 percent of all

southbound commuter traffic coming into New York City. This is a
$14 million operation involving 3,500 employees who work on commuter
traffic exclusively. A blow to this phase of the Central's operations
would have serious economic consequences not only to the railroad
itself, but to the 40,000 people per day who are provided with efficient,
reasonably priced transportation in and out of the city. "
There is a workable alternative to this potentially dangerous and harmful
C& + O&-B& + O& merger scheme"- The Central
has pointed out. " The logic of creating a strong, balanced,
competitive two-system railroad service in the East is so obvious
that B& + O& was publicly committed to the approach outlined here.

Detailed studies of the plan were well underway. Though

far from completion, these studies indicated beyond a doubt that savings
would result which would be of unprecedented benefit to the railroads
concerned, their investors, their customers, their users, and to the
public at large. Then, abandoning the studies in the face of
their promising outlook for all concerned, B& + O& entered on-again-off-again
negotiations with C& + O& which resulted in the present
situation. In the light of the facts at hand, however,
New York Central intends to pursue the objective of helping to create
a healthy two-system eastern railroad structure in the public interest".

The Interstate Commerce Commission will commence its

deliberations on the proposed C& + O&-B& + O& merger on
June 18. Obviously, the Interstate Commerce Commission will not force
the New York Central to further curtail its commuter operations
by giving undue competitive advantages to the lines that wish to merge.

However, there is a more profound consideration to this proposed

merger than profit and loss. That is, will it serve the long-range
public interest? For the past 40 years Congress has advocated
a carefully planned, balanced and competitive railway system.
We must ask ourselves which of the two alternatives will help the commuter-
the two-way B& + O&-C& + O& merger, or the three-way
New York Central-B& + O&-C& + O& merger. Which will
serve not only the best interest of the stockholders, but the interests
of all the traveling public?
_MR& LINDSAY._ Mr& Speaker, I rise today to pay tribute to
a great newspaper, the New York Times, on the occasion of a major change
in its top executive command. Arthur Hays Sulzberger has
been a distinguished publisher of this distinguished newspaper and
it is fitting that we take due notice of his major contribution to American
journalism on the occasion of his retirement. I am pleased to
note that Mr& Sulzberger will continue to serve as chairman of the
board of the New York Times. Mr& Sulzberger's successor
as publisher is Mr& Orvil E& Dryfoos, who is president of the
New York Times Co&, and who has been with the Times since 1942.
Mr& Dryfoos' outstanding career as a journalist guarantees that
the high standards which have made the Times one of the world's
great newspapers will be maintained. I am also pleased to note
that Mr& John B& Oakes, a member of the Times staff since 1946,
has been appointed as editorial page editor. Mr& Oakes succeeds
Charles Merz, editor since 1938, who now becomes editor emeritus.

I should like at this time, Mr& Speaker, to pay warm tribute

to Arthur Hays Sulzberger and Charles Merz on the occasion of
their retirement from distinguished careers in American journalism.

My heartiest congratulations go to their successors, Orvil E&

Dryfoos and John B& Oakes, who can be counted upon to sustain
the illustrious tradition of the New York Times. The people
of the 17th District of New York, and I as their Representative
in Congress, take great pride in the New York Times as one of the
great and authoritative newspapers of the world.
_MR& STRATTON._ Mr& Speaker, in my latest newsletter to my constituents
I urged the imposition of a naval blockade of Cuba as the
only effective method of preventing continued Soviet armaments from
coming into the Western Hemisphere in violation of the Monroe Doctrine.
Yesterday, I had the privilege of reading a thoughtful article
in the U&S& News + World Report of May 8 which discussed this
type of action in more detail, including both its advantages and its
disadvantages. Under leave to extend my remarks, I include
the relevant portion of my newsletter, together with the text of the
article from the U&S& News + World Report: "_YOUR CONGRESSMAN,
SAMUEL S& STRATTON, REPORTS FROM WASHINGTON, MAY 1, 1961_
Cuban S&S&R&: Whatever may have been the setbacks resulting
from the unsuccessful attempt of the Cuban rebels to establish
a beachhead on the Castro-held mainland last week, there was at least
one positive benefit, and that was the clear-cut revelation to the
whole world of the complete conversion of Cuba into a Russian-dominated
military base. In fact, one of the major reasons for the
failure of the ill-starred expedition appears to have been a lack of full
information on the extent to which Cuba has been getting this Russian
military equipment. Somehow, the pictures and stories of Soviet
~T-34 tanks on Cuban beaches and Russian Mig jet fighters strafing
rebel troops has brought home to all of us the stark, blunt truth
of what it means to have a Russian military base 90 miles away from
home. Russian tanks and planes in Cuba jeopardize the security of
the United States, violate the Monroe Doctrine, and threaten the
security of every other Latin American republic. Once the full
extent of this Russian military penetration of Cuba was clear, President
Kennedy announced we would take whatever action was appropriate
to prevent this, even if we had to go it alone. But the Latin American
republics who have been rather inclined to drag their feet on
taking action against Castro also reacted swiftly last week by finally
throwing Cuba off the Inter-American Defense Board. For years
the United States had been trying to get these countries to exclude
Castro's representative from secret military talks. But it took the
pictures of the Migs and the ~T-34 tanks to do the job. There
is a new atmosphere of urgency in Washington this week. You can see
it, for example, in the extensive efforts President Kennedy has made
to enlist solid bipartisan support for his actions toward both Cuba
and Laos; efforts,
as I see it, which are being directed, by the way, toward
support for future actions, not for those already past. What
the next move will be only time, of course, will tell. Personally,
I think we ought to set up an immediate naval blockade of Cuba. We
simply can't tolerate further Russian weapons, including the possibility
of long-range nuclear missiles, being located in Cuba. Obviously,
we can't stop them from coming in, however, just by talk. A naval
blockade would be thoroughly in line with the Monroe Doctrine, would
be a relatively simple operation to carry out, and would bring an
abrupt end to Soviet penetration of our hemisphere". @ "#[FROM
U&S& NEWS + WORLD REPORT, MAY 8, 1961]#
_NEXT FOR CUBA:
AN ARMS BLOCKADE?_ Look at Castro now- cockier than ever
with arms and agents to threaten the Americas. How can the
United States act? Blockade is one answer offered by experts.
In it they see a way to isolate Cuba, stop infiltration, maybe finish
Castro, too. This is the question now facing President
Kennedy: How to put a stop to the Soviet buildup in Cuba and to
Communist infiltration of this hemisphere? On April 25, the
White House reported that a total embargo of remaining U&S&
trade with Cuba was being considered. Its aim: To undermine further
Cuba's economy. weaken Castro. Another strategy- bolder
and tougher- was also attracting notice in Washington: a naval
and air blockade to cut Cuba off from the world, destroy Castro.

Blockade, in the view of military and civilian experts, could restore

teeth to the Monroe Doctrine. It could halt a flood of Communist
arms and strategic supplies now reaching Castro. It could stop
Cuban re-export of guns and propaganda materials to South America.
It would be the most severe reprisal, short of declared war, that the
United States could invoke against Castro. It is the strategy
of blockade, therefore, that is suddenly at the center of attention
of administration officials, Members of Congress, officers in the
Pentagon. As a possible course of action, it also is the center of
debate and is raising many questions. Among these questions: _WHAT
WOULD
A CUBA BLOCKADE TAKE?_ Military experts say a tight naval blockade
off Cuban ports and at the approaches to Cuban waters would require
two naval task forces, each built around an aircraft carrier with
a complement of about 100 planes and several destroyers. The
Navy, on April 25, announced it is bringing back the carrier <Shangri-La>
from the Mediterranean, increasing to four the number of
attack carriers in the vicinity of Cuba. More than 36 other big Navy
ships are no less than a day's sailing time away. To round
out the blockading force, submarines would be needed- to locate, identify
and track approaching vessels. Land-based radar would help with
this task. So would radar picket ships. A squadron of Navy jets and
another of long-range patrol planes would add support to the carrier
task forces. Three requirements go with a blockade: It must
be proclaimed; the blockading force must be powerful enough to enforce
it; and it must be enforced without discrimination. Once
these conditions of international law are met, countries that try to
run to blockade do so at their own risk. Blockade runners can be stopped-
by gunfire, if necessary- searched and held, at least temporarily.
They could be sent to U&S& ports for rulings whether cargo
should be confiscated. _WHAT COULD A BLOCKADE ACCOMPLISH?_ Plenty,
say the experts. In a broad sense, it would reaffirm the Monroe
Doctrine by opposing Communist interference in the Western Hemisphere.
It could, by avoiding direct intervention, provide a short-of-war
strategy to meet short-of-war infiltration. Primary target
would be shipments of tanks, guns, aviation gasoline and ammunition
coming from Russia and Czechoslovakia. Shipments of arms from Western
countries could similarly be seized as contraband. In a total blockade,
action could also be taken against ships bringing in chemicals,
oils, textiles, and even foodstuffs. At times, three ships a day from
the Soviet bloc are unloading in Cuban ports.
From its inception in 1920 with the passage of Public Law 236, 66th
Congress, the purpose of the vocational rehabilitation program has been
to assist the States, by means of grants-in-aid, to return disabled
men and women to productive, gainful employment. The authority for
the program was renewed several times until the vocational rehabilitation
program was made permanent as Title /5, of the Social Security
Act in 1935. Up to this time and for the next eight years, the services
provided disabled persons consisted mainly of training, counseling,
and placement on a job. Recognizing the limitations of such a program,
the 78th Congress in 1943 passed P& L& 113, which broadened
the concept of rehabilitation to include the provision of physical
restoration services to remove or reduce disabilities, and which revised
the financing structure. _RECENT CHANGES._ Despite the successful
rehabilitation of over a half million disabled persons in the first
eleven years after 1943, the existing program was still seen to be
inadequate to cope with the nation's backlog of an estimated two million
disabled. To assist the States, therefore, in rehabilitating handicapped
individuals, "so that they may prepare for and engage in remunerative
employment to the extent of their capabilities", the 83rd
Congress enacted the Vocational Rehabilitation Amendments of 1954
(P& L& 565). These amendments to the Vocational Rehabilitation
Act were designed to help provide for more specialized rehabilitation
facilities, for more sheltered and "half-way" workshops, for
greater numbers of adequately trained personnel, for more comprehensive
services to individuals (particularly to the homebound and the blind),
and for other administrative improvements to increase the program's
overall effectiveness. _FINANCIAL ASPECTS._ Under the law as it
existed until 1943, the Federal Government made grants to the States
on the basis of population, matching State expenditures on a 50-50
basis. Under P& L& 113, 78th Congress, the Federal Government
assumed responsibility for 100% of necessary State expenditures
in connection with administration and the counseling and placement of
the disabled, and for 50% of the necessary costs of providing clients
with rehabilitation case services. Throughout these years, the statutory
authorization was for such sums as were necessary to carry out
the provisions of the Act. The 1954 Amendments completely changed
the financing of the vocational rehabilitation program, providing
for a three-part grant structure- for (1) basic support; (2) extension
and improvement; and (3) research, demonstrations, training and
traineeships for vocational rehabilitation- and in addition for
short-term training and instruction. The first part of the new structure-
that for supporting the basic program of vocational rehabilitation
services- is described in this Section. Subsequent sections
on grants describe the other categories of the grant structure.

The following table shows, for selected years, the authorizations,

appropriations, allotment base, Federal grants to States and State
matching funds for this part of the grant program:

#METHOD OF
DISTRIBUTING FUNDS#

_DESCRIPTION OF FORMULA._ In order to assist

the States in maintaining basic vocational rehabilitation services, Section
2 of the amended Act provides that allotments to States for
support of such services be based on (1) need, as measured by a State's
population, and (2) fiscal capacity, as measured by its per capita
income. The Act further provides for a "floor" or minimum allotment,
set at the 1954 level, which is called the "base" allotment,
and a "ceiling" or maximum allotment, for each State. It stipulates,
in addition, that all amounts remaining as a result of imposing
the "ceiling",
and not used for insuring the "floor", be redistributed
to those States still below their maximums. These provisions
are designed to reflect the differences in wealth and population among
the States, with the objective that a vocationally handicapped person
have access to needed services regardless of whether he resides in
a State with a low or high per capita income or a sparsely or thickly
populated State. The provisions are also designed to avoid disruption
in State programs already in operation, which might otherwise result
from the allotment of funds on the basis of wealth and population
alone. _METHOD OF COMPUTING ALLOTMENTS._ The method used in computing
the allotments is specifically set forth in the Act. The term
"State" means the several States, the District of Columbia, the
Virgin Islands, Guam and Puerto Rico; the term "United States"
includes the several States and the District of Columbia, and
excludes the Virgin Islands, Guam and Puerto Rico, and, prior
to
1962, Alaska and Hawaii. The following steps are employed in calculations:
_1._ For each State (except Puerto Rico, Guam, the
Virgin Islands, and, prior to 1962, Alaska and Hawaii) determine
average per capita income based on the last three years. (See <Source
of Data>, below for per capita income data to be used in this step.)
_2._ Determine the average per capita income for the U& S&
based on the last three years. (See <Source of Data>, below,
for per capita income data to be used in this step.) _3._ Determine
the ratio of 50% to the average per capita income of the U& S&
(Divide 50 by the result obtained in item 2 above.) _4._ Determine
for each State (except the Virgin Islands, Guam and Puerto
Rico, and, prior to 1962, Alaska and Hawaii) that percentage which
bears the same ratio to 50% as the particular State's average per
capita income bears to the average per capita income of the U& S&.
(Multiply the result obtained in item 3 above by the result obtained
for each State in item 1 above.) _5._ Determine the particular
State's "allotment percentage". By law this is 75% for
the Virgin Islands, Guam and Puerto Rico. (Alaska and Hawaii had
fixed allotment percentages in effect prior to fiscal year 1962.)

In all other States it is the difference obtained by subtracting

from 100 the result obtained in item 4 above; <except> that no
State shall have an allotment percentage less than 33-1/3% nor more
than 75%. If the resulting difference for the particular State is
less or more than these extremes, the State's allotment percentage
must be raised or lowered to the appropriate extreme. _6._ Square
each State's allotment percentage. _7._ Determine each State's
population. (See <Source of Data>, below for population data
to be used in this step.) _8._ Multiply the population of each
State by the square of its allotment percentage. (Multiply result obtained
in item 7 above, by result obtained in item 6 above.) _9._
Determine the sum of the products obtained in item 8 above, for all the
States. (For each State, make all computations set forth in items
1 to 8 above, and then add the results obtained for each State in item
8.) _10._ Determine the ratio that the amount being allotted
is to the sum of the products for all the States. (Divide the amount
being allotted by the result obtained in item 9 above.) _11._ Determine
the particular State's unadjusted allotment for the particular
fiscal year. (Multiply the State product in item 8 above by the
result obtained in item 10 above.) _12._ Determine if the particular
State's unadjusted allotment (result obtained in item 11 above)
is greater than its maximum allotment, and if so lower its unadjusted
allotment to its maximum allotment. (Each State's unadjusted allotment
for any fiscal year, which exceeds its minimum allotment described
in item 13 below by a percentage greater than one and one-half times
the percentage by which the sum being allotted exceeds $23,000,000,
must be reduced by the amount of the excess.) _13._ Determine if
the particular State's unadjusted allotment (result obtained in item
11 above) is less than its minimum (base) allotment, and if so raise
its unadjusted
allotment to its minimum allotment. Regardless of its unadjusted
allotment, each State is guaranteed by law a minimum allotment
each year equal to the allotment which it received in fiscal year 1954-
increased by a uniform percentage of 5.4865771 which brings total
1954 allotments to all States up to $23,000,000. _14._ The funds
recouped by reductions in item 12 above are used: first, to increase
the unadjusted allotments to the specified minimum in those States
where the unadjusted allotment is less than the minimum allotment (item
13 above); and second, to increase uniformly the allotments to those
States whose allotments are below their maximums, with adjustments
to prevent the allotment of any State from thereby exceeding its maximum.
_ADDITIONAL NOTE ON ALLOTMENTS._ For the States which maintain
two separate agencies- one for the vocational rehabilitation of
the blind, and one for the rehabilitation of persons other than the
blind- the Act specifies that their minimum (base) allotment shall
be divided between the two agencies in the same proportion as it was divided
in fiscal year 1954. Funds allotted in addition to their minimum
allotment are apportioned to the two agencies as they may determine.

#MATCHING REQUIREMENTS#

_EXPLANATION OF MATCHING FORMULA._ As

is the case with the allotment provisions for support of vocational
rehabilitation services, the matching requirements are also based on
a statutory formula. Prior to 1960, in order to provide matching for
the minimum (base) allotment, State funds had to equal 1954 State funds.
Prior to and since 1960 the rest of the support allotment is matched
at rates related to the fiscal capacity of the State, with a pivot
of 40% State (or 60% Federal) participation in total program
costs. The percentage of Federal participation in such costs for any
State is referred to in the law as that State's "Federal share".
For purposes of this explanation, this percentage is referred to
as the States "unadjusted Federal share". Beginning in 1960, the
matching requirements for the base allotment are being adjusted (upward
or downward, as required) 25% a year, so that by 1963 the entire
support allotment will be matched on the basis of a 40% pivot State
share, with maximum and minimum State shares of 50% and 30%, respectively.
The pre-1960 rate of Federal participation with respect
to any State's base allotment, as well as the adjusted rate in effect
during the 1960-1962 period, is designated by the statute as that
State's "adjusted Federal Share". The provisions for determining
a State's unadjusted Federal share are designed to reflect the
varying financial resources among the States. The purpose of the adjusted
Federal share relating to the base allotment and of the transition
provisions
for reaching the unadjusted Federal share is to prevent
dislocations from abrupt changes in matching rates. _METHOD OF COMPUTING
FEDERAL SHARES._ The method used for computing the respective
Federal and State shares in total program costs is specifically set
forth in the Act. The term "State" means the several States,
the District of Columbia, the Virgin Islands, Guam and Puerto Rico;
the term "United States" includes the several States and
the District of Columbia and excludes the Virgin Islands, Guam
and Puerto Rico, and, prior to 1962, Alaska and Hawaii. The following
steps are employed in the calculations: _1._ For each State
(except the Virgin Islands, Guam, Puerto Rico, and, prior to 1962,
Alaska and Hawaii), determine the average per capita income for
the last three years. (the same amount used in item 1 under <Method
of Computing allotments>, above.) _2._ Determine the average
per capita income for the United States for the last three years. (The
same amount used in item 2 under <Method of Computing Allotments>,
above.) _3._ Determine the ratio of 40% to the average per
capita income of the United States. (Divide 40 by the amount used
in item 2 above.) _4._ Determine for each State (except the Virgin
Islands, Guam, Puerto Rico, and, prior to 1962, Alaska and hawaii),
that percentage which bears the same ration to 40% as the particular
State's average per capita income bears to the average per
capita income of the United States. (Multiply the result obtained
in item 3 above by the amount used for each State in item 1 above.) _5._
Determine the particular State's "Federal Share". By
law this is 70% for the Virgin Islands, Guam and Puerto Rico.
(Alaska and Hawaii had fixed Federal share percentages in effect prior
to fiscal year 1962.) In all other States it is the difference
obtained by subtracting from 100 the result obtained in item 4
above; <except>
that no State shall have a Federal share less than
50% nor more than 70%. If the resulting difference for the particular
State is less or more than these extremes, the State's Federal
share must be raised or lowered to the appropriate extreme.

At the entrance side of the shelter, each roof beam is rested

on the inside 4 inches of the block wall. The outside 4-inch space is
filled by mortaring blocks on edge. The wooden bracing between the roof
beams is placed flush with the inside of the wall. Mortar is poured
between this bracing and the 4-inch blocks on edge to complete the
wall thickness for radiation shielding. (For details see inset, fig&
5.) The first one or two roof boards (marked "~E" in
fig& 6) are slipped into place across the roof beams, from outside
the shelter. These boards are nailed to the roof beams by reaching up
through the open space between the beams, from inside the shelter. Concrete
blocks are passed between the beams and put on the boards. The
roof blocks are in two layers and are not mortared together.
Work on the roof continues in this way. The last roof boards are covered
with blocks from outside the shelter. When the roof blocks
are all in place, the final rows of wall blocks are mortared into position.
The structure is complete. (See fig& 7.) Building plans are
on page 21. Solid concrete blocks, relatively heavy and dense,
are used for this shelter. These blocks are sold in various sizes
so it seldom is necessary to cut a block to fit. Solid blocks
are recommended because hollow blocks would have to be filled with concrete
to give effective protection. Bricks are an alternative.
If they are used, the walls and roof should be 10 inches thick to give
the same protection as the 8-inch solid concrete blocks. The
illustrations in fig& 8 show how to lay a concrete block wall. More
detailed instructions may be obtained from your local building supply
houses and craftsmen. Other sources of information include the National
Concrete Masonry Association, 38 South Dearborn Street,
Chicago, Ill&, the Portland Cement Association, 33 West Grand
Avenue, Chicago, Ill&, and the Structural Clay Products Association,
Washington, D&C&. _ABOVEGROUND DOUBLE-WALL SHELTER_
An outdoor, aboveground fallout shelter also may be built with concrete
blocks. (See fig& 9, double-wall shelter.) Most people would
have to hire a contractor to build this shelter. Plans are on pages
22 and 23. This shelter could be built in regions where water
or rock is close to the surface, making it impractical to build an underground
shelter. Two walls of concrete blocks are constructed
at least 20 inches apart. The space between them is filled with pit-run
gravel or earth. The walls are held together with metal ties placed
in the wet mortar as the walls are built. The roof shown here
(fig& 9) is a 6-inch slab of reinforced concrete, covered with at
least 20 inches of pit-run gravel. An alternate roof, perhaps more
within do-it-yourself reach, could be constructed of heavy wooden roof
beams, overlaid with boards and waterproofing. It would have to be covered
with at least 28 inches of pit-run gravel. The materials
for a double-wall shelter would cost about $700. Contractors' charges
would be additional. The shelter would provide almost absolute fallout
protection. _PRE-SHAPED METAL SHELTER_ Pre-shaped corrugated
metal sections or pre-cast concrete can be used for shelters either
above or below ground. These are particularly suitable for regions where
water or rock is close to the surface. They form effective fallout
shelters when mounded over with earth, as shown in figure 10.
Materials for this shelter would cost about $700. A contractor probably
would be required to help build it. His charges would be added to
the cost of materials. This shelter, as shown on page 24, would provide
almost absolute protection from fallout radiation. An alternate
hatchway entrance, shown on page 25, would reduce the cost of materials
$50 to $100. The National Lumber Manufacturers Association,
Washington, D& C&, is developing plans to utilize specially
treated lumber for underground shelter construction. The Structural
Clay Products Institute, Washington, D&C&, is working to develop
brick and clay products suitable for shelter construction. _UNDERGROUND
CONCRETE SHELTER_ An underground reinforced concrete shelter
can be built by a contractor for about $1,000 to $1,500, depending
on the type of entrance. The shelter shown would provide almost absolute
fallout protection. The illustration (fig& 11) shows this
shelter with the roof at ground level and mounded over. The same shelter
could be built into an embankment or below ground level. Plans
for the shelter, with either a stairway or hatchway entrance, are shown
on pages 26 and 27. Another type of shelter which gives excellent
fallout protection can be built as an added room to the basement
of a home under construction. It would add about $500 to the total
cost of the home. The shelter illustrated in figure 12 is based on such
a room built in a new home in the Washington, D&C& area in the
Spring of 1959. {IMPORTANT CONSIDERATIONS} common
to each type of shelter are: _1._ Arrangement of the entrance.
_2._ Ventilation. _3._ Radio reception. _4._ Lighting.

{THE ENTRANCE} must have at least one right-angle turn.

Radiation scatters somewhat like light. Some will go around a corner.
The rest continues in a straight line. Therefore, sharp turns
in a shelter entrance will reduce radiation intensity inside the shelter.

{VENTILATION} is provided in a concrete block basement

shelter by vents in the wall and by the open entrance. A blower
may be installed to increase comfort. A blower is essential
for the double-wall shelter and for the underground shelters. It should
provide not less than 5 cubic feet per minute of air per person. Vent
pipes also are necessary (as shown in figs& 9, 10, and 11), but
filters are not. {RADIO RECEPTION} is cut down by the
shielding necessary to keep out radiation. As soon as the shelter is
completed a radio reception check must be made. It probably will be
necessary to install an outside antenna, particularly to receive ~CONELRAD
broadcasts. {LIGHTING} is an important
consideration. Continuous low-level lighting may be provided in the
shelter by means of a 4-cell hot-shot battery to which is wired a 150-milliampere
flashlight-type bulb. Tests have shown that such a device,
with a fresh battery, will furnish light continuously for at least
10 days. With a spare battery, a source of light for 2 weeks or more
would be assured. A flashlight or electric lantern also should be available
for those periods when a brighter light is needed. There should
be a regular electrical outlet in the shelter as power may continue
in many areas. {OTHER CONSIDERATIONS}.- If there
are outside windows in the basement corner where you build a shelter,
they should be shielded as shown in the Appendix, page 29. Other basement
windows should be blocked when an emergency threatens. Basement
walls that project above the ground should be shielded as shown in the
Appendix, page 29. In these shelters the entrance should be
not more than 2 feet wide. Bunks, or materials to build them, may have
to be put inside the enclosure before the shelter walls are completed.

The basement or belowground shelters also will serve for tornado

or hurricane protection. #/3,. LIVING IN A SHELTER#

@
The
radioactivity of fallout decays rapidly at first. <Forty-nine hours
after an atomic burst the radiation intensity is only about 1 percent
of what it was an hour after the explosion. But the radiation may
be so intense at the start that one percent may be extremely dangerous>.

Therefore, civil defense instructions received over ~CONELRAD

or by other means should be followed. A battery-powered
radio is essential. Radiation instruments suitable for home use are
available, and would be of value in locating that portion of the home
which offers the best protection against fallout radiation. There is
a possibility that battery-powered radios with built-in radiation meters
may become available. One instrument thus would serve both purposes.

Your local civil defense will gather its own information and
will receive broad information from State and Federal sources. It
will tell you as soon as possible: How long to stay in your
shelter. How soon you may go outdoors. How long you
may stay outside. You should be prepared to stay in your shelter
full time for at least several days and to make it your home for 14
days or longer. A checklist in the Appendix, (page 30) tells what is
needed. Families with children will have particular problems. They
should provide for simple recreation. There should be a task
for everyone and these tasks should be rotated. Part of the family should
be sleeping while the rest is awake. To break the monotony
it may be necessary to invent tasks that will keep the family busy.
Records such as diaries can be kept. The survival of the family
will depend largely on information received by radio. A record should
be kept of the information and instructions, including the time and
date of broadcast. Family rationing probably will be necessary.

Blowers should be operated periodically on a regular schedule.

There will come a time in a basement shelter when the radiation
has decayed enough to allow use of the whole basement. However, as
much time as possible should be spent within the shelter to hold radiation
exposure to a minimum. The housekeeping problems of living
in a shelter will begin as soon as the shelter is occupied. Food, medical
supplies, utensils, and equipment, if not already stored in the
shelter, must be quickly gathered up and carried into it. After
the family has settled in the shelter, the housekeeping rules should
be spelled out by the adult in charge. Sanitation in the confines
of the family shelter will require much thought and planning.

Provision for emergency toilet facilities and disposal of human

wastes will be an unfamiliar problem. A covered container such as a kitchen
garbage pail might do as a toilet. A 10-gallon garbage can, with
a tightly fitting cover, could be used to keep the wastes until it
is safe to leave the shelter. Water rationing will be difficult
and should be planned carefully. A portable electric heater
is advisable for shelters in cold climates. It would take the chill from
the shelter in the beginning. Even if the electric power fails after
an attack, any time that the heater has been used will make the shelter
that much more comfortable. Body heat in the close quarters will
help keep up the temperature. Warm clothing and bedding, of course,
are essential. Open-flame heating or cooking should be avoided.
A flame would use up air. Some families already have held
weekend rehearsals in their home shelters to learn the problems and to
determine for themselves what supplies they would need. #/4,. IF
AN ATTACK FINDS YOU WITHOUT A PREPARED SHELTER#

@ Few areas, if any,

are as good as prepared shelters but they are worth knowing about.

A family dwelling without a basement provides some natural shielding

from fallout radiation. On the ground floor the radiation would
be about half what it is outside. The best protection would be on
the ground floor in the central part of the house. A belowground
basement can cut the fallout radiation to one-tenth of the outside
level. The safest place is the basement corner least exposed to windows
and deepest below ground. If there is time after the warning,
the basement shielding could be improved substantially by blocking
windows with bricks, dirt, books, magazines, or other heavy material.
#/5,. SHELTER IN APARTMENT BUILDINGS#

@ Large apartment buildings

of masonry or concrete provide better natural shelter than the usual
family dwellings. In general, such apartments afford more protection
than smaller buildings because their walls are thick and there is
more space. The central area of the ground floor of a heavily
constructed apartment building, with concrete floors, should provide
more fallout protection than the ordinary basement of a family dwelling.
The basement of such an apartment building may provide as much natural
protection as the specially constructed concrete block shelter recommended
for the basement of a family dwelling. The Federal
Government is aiding local governments in several places to survey residential,
commercial and industrial buildings to determine what fallout
protection they would provide, and for how many people. The
problem for the city apartment dweller is primarily to plan the use
of existing space. Such planning will require the cooperation of other
occupants and of the apartment management.

A former du Pont official became a General Motors vice president

and set about maximizing du Pont's share of the General Motors
market. Lines of communications were established between the two
companies and several du Pont products were actively promoted. Within
a few years various du Pont manufactured items were filling the entire
requirements of from four to seven of General Motors' eight operating
divisions. The Fisher Body division, long controlled by the
Fisher brothers under a voting trust even though General Motors owned
a majority of its stock, followed an independent course for many years,
but by 1947 and 1948 "resistance had collapsed" and its purchases
from du Pont "compared favorably" with purchases by other General
Motors divisions. Competitors came to receive higher percentage
of General Motors business in later years, but it is "likely"
that this trend stemmed "at least in part" from the needs of General
Motors outstripping du Pont's capacity. " The fact
that sticks out in this voluminous record is that the bulk of du Pont's
production has always supplied the largest part of the requirements
of the one customer in the automobile industry connected to du Pont
by a stock interest. The inference is overwhelming that du Pont's
commanding position was promoted by its stock interest and was not gained
solely on competitive merit". 353 U& S&, at 605.
This Court agreed with the trial court "that considerations of price,
quality and service were not overlooked by either du Pont or General
Motors". 353 U& S&, at 606. However, it determined that
neither this factor, nor "the fact that all concerned in high executive
posts in both companies acted honorably and fairly, each in the
honest conviction that his actions were in the best interests of his own
company and without any design to overreach anyone, including du Pont's
competitors", 353 U& S&, at 607, outweighed the Government's
claim for relief. This claim, as submitted to the District
Court and dismissed by it, 126 F&Supp&235, alleged violation
not only of @ 7 of the Clayton Act, but also of @ @ 1 and 2 of
the Sherman Act. The latter provisions proscribe any contract, combination,
or conspiracy in restraint of interstate or foreign trade, and
monopolization of, or attempts, combinations, or conspiracies to monopolize,
such trade. However, this Court put to one side without consideration
the Government's appeal from the dismissal of its Sherman
Act allegations. It rested its decision solely on @ 7, which reads
in pertinent part: " [N]o corporation engaged in commerce
shall acquire, directly or indirectly, the whole or any part of
the stock or other share capital of another corporation engaged also in
commerce, where the effect of such acquisition may be to substantially
lessen competition between the corporation whose stock is so acquired
and the corporation making the acquisition, or to restrain such commerce
in any section or community, or tend to create a monopoly of any
line of commerce. @ This section shall not apply to corporations
purchasing such stock solely for investment and not using the same
by voting or otherwise to bring about, or in attempting to bring about,
the substantial lessening of competition **h". The purpose
of this provision was thus explained in the Court's opinion:
" Section 7 is designed to arrest in its incipiency not only
the substantial lessening of competition from the acquisition by one corporation
of the whole or any part of the stock of a competing corporation,
but also to arrest in their incipiency restraints or monopolies
in a relevant market which, as a reasonable probability, appear at the
time of suit likely to result from the acquisition by one corporation
of all or any part of the stock of any other corporation. The section
is violated whether or not actual restraints or monopolies, or the substantial
lessening of competition, have occurred or are intended **h".
353 U& S&, at 589. Thus, a finding of conspiracy to
restrain trade or attempt to monopolize was excluded from the Court's
decision. Indeed, as already noted, the Court proceeded on the assumption
that the executives involved in the dealings between du Pont
and General Motors acted "honorably and fairly" and exercised
their business judgment only to serve what they deemed the best interests
of their own companies. This, however, did not bar finding that du
Pont had become pre-eminent as a supplier of automotive fabrics and
finishes to General Motors; that these products constituted a "line
of commerce" within the meaning of the Clayton Act; that General
Motors' share of the market for these products was substantial;
and that competition for this share of the market was endangered
by the financial relationship between the two concerns: " The
statutory policy of fostering free competition is obviously furthered
when no supplier has an advantage over his competitors from an acquisition
of his customer's stock likely to have the effects condemned
by the statute. We repeat, that the test of a violation of @ 7 is
whether, at the time of suit, there is a reasonable probability that
the acquisition is likely to result in the condemned restraints. The
conclusion upon this record is inescapable that such likelihood was proved
as to this acquisition **h". 353 U& S&, at 607. On
the basis of the findings which led to this conclusion, the Court remanded
the case to the District Court to determine the appropriate
relief. The sole guidance given the Court for discharging the task committed
to it was this: " The judgment must therefore be reversed
and the cause remanded to the District Court for a determination,
after further hearing, of the equitable relief necessary and appropriate
in the public interest to eliminate the effects of the acquisition
offensive to the statute. The District Courts, in the framing
of equitable decrees, are clothed 'with large discretion to model
their judgments to fit the exigencies of the particular case'. <International
Salt Co&>
v& <United States,> 332 U& S& 392,
400-401". 353 U& S&, at 607-608. This brings us to the
course of the proceedings in the District Court. #/2,.#

This
Court's judgment was filed in the District Court on July 18,
1957. The first pretrial conference- held to appoint <amici curiae>
to represent the interest of the stockholders of du Pont and General
Motors and to consider the procedure to be followed in the subsequent
hearings- took place on September 25, 1957. At the outset, the
Government's spokesman explained that counsel for the Government
and for du Pont had already held preliminary discussions with a view
to arriving at a relief plan that both sides could recommend to the court.
Du Pont, he said, had proposed disenfranchisement of its General
Motors stock along with other restrictions on the du Pont-General
Motors relationship. The Government, deeming these suggestions inadequate,
had urged that any judgment include divestiture of du Pont's
shares of General Motors. Counsel for the Government invited
du Pont's views on this proposal before recommending a specific program,
but stated that if the court desired, or if counsel for du Pont
thought further discussion would not be profitable, the Government
was prepared to submit a plan within thirty days. Counsel for
du Pont indicated a preference for the submission of detailed plans by
both sides at an early date. No previous antitrust case, he said, had
involved interests of such magnitude or presented such complex problems
of relief. The submission of detailed plans would place the issues
before the court more readily than would discussion of divestiture
or disenfranchisement in the abstract. The Court adopted this procedure
with an appropriate time schedule for carrying it out. The
Government submitted its proposed decree on October 25, 1957. The
plan called for divestiture by du Pont of its 63,000,000 shares of General
Motors stock by equal annual distributions to its stockholders,
as a dividend, over a period of ten years. Christiana Securities Company
and Delaware Realty + Investment Company, major stockholders
in du Pont, and the stockholders of Delaware were dealt with specially
by provisions requiring the annual sale by a trustee, again over
a ten-year period, of du Pont's General Motors stock allocable to
them, as well as any General Motors stock which Christiana and Delaware
owned outright. If, in the trustee's judgment, "reasonable
market conditions" did not prevail during any given year, he was to
be allowed to petition the court for an extension of time within the
ten-year period. In addition, the right to vote the General Motors
stock held by du Pont was to be vested in du Pont's stockholders,
other than Christiana and Delaware and the stockholders of Delaware;
du Pont, Christiana, and Delaware were to be enjoined from acquiring
stock in or exercising control over General Motors; du Pont,
Christiana, and Delaware were to be prohibited to have any director
or officer in common with General Motors, and vice versa; and
General Motors and du Pont were to be ordered to terminate any agreement
that provided for the purchase by General Motors of any specified
percentage of its requirements of any du Pont manufactured product,
or for the grant of exclusive patent rights, or for a grant by General
Motors to du Pont of a preferential right to make or sell any
chemical discovery of General Motors, or for the maintenance of any
joint commercial enterprise by the two companies. On motion of
the <amici
curiae,> the court directed that a ruling be obtained from
the Commissioner of Internal Revenue as to the federal income tax
consequences of the Government's plan. On May 9, 1958, the Commissioner
announced his rulings. The annual dividends paid to du Pont
stockholders in shares of General Motors stock would be taxable as ordinary
income to the extent of du Pont's earnings and profits. The
measure, for federal income tax purposes, of the dividend to individual
stockholders would be the fair market value of the shares at the time
of each annual distribution. In the case of taxpaying corporate stockholders,
the measure would be the lesser of the fair market value
of the shares or du Pont's tax basis for them, which is approximately
$2.09 per share. The forced sale of the General Motors stock owned
by or allocable to Christiana, Delaware, and the stockholders of
Delaware, and deposited with the trustee, would result in a tax to those
parties at the capital gains rate. Du Pont's counterproposal
was filed on May 14, 1958. Under its plan du Pont would retain
its General Motors shares but be required to pass on to its stockholders
the right to vote those shares. Christiana and Delaware would,
in turn, be required to pass on the voting rights to the General Motors
shares allocable to them to their own stockholders. Du Pont would
be enjoined from having as a director, officer, or employee anyone
who was simultaneously an officer or employee of General Motors, and
no director, officer, or employee of du Pont could serve as a director
of General Motors without court approval. Du Pont would be denied
the right to acquire any additional General Motors stock except
through General Motors' distributions of stock or subscription rights
to its stockholders. On June 6, 1958, General Motors submitted
its objections to the Government's proposal. It argued, <inter
alia,> that a divestiture order would severely depress the market
value of the stock of both General Motors and du Pont, with consequent
serious loss and hardship to hundreds of thousands of innocent
investors, among them thousands of small trusts and charitable institutions;
that there would be a similar decline in the market values of
other automotive and chemical stocks, with similar losses to the stockholders
of those companies; that the tremendous volume of General
Motors stock hanging over the market for ten years would hamper the efforts
of General Motors and other automobile manufacturers to raise
equity capital; and that all this would have a serious adverse effect
on the entire stock market and on general business activity. General
Motors comprehensively contended that the Government plan would
not be "in the public interest" as required by the mandate of this
Court. The decrees proposed by the <amici curiae> were filed
in August of 1958. These plans, like du Pont's contained provisions
for passing the vote on du Pont's General Motors shares on
to the ultimate stockholders of du Pont, Christiana, and Delaware,
except that officers and directors of the three companies, their spouses,
and other people living in their households, as well as other specified
persons, were to be totally disenfranchised. Both plans also prohibited
common directors, officers, or employees between du Pont, Christiana,
and Delaware, on the one hand, and General Motors on the
other.
It is not a medieval mental quirk or an attitude "unnourished by sense"
to believe that husbands and wives should not be subjected to such
a risk, or that such a possibility should not be permitted to endanger
the confidentiality of the marriage relationship. While it is easy
enough to ridicule Hawkins' pronouncement in Pleas of the Crown
from a metaphysical point of view, the concept of the "oneness"
of a married couple may reflect an abiding belief that the communion between
husband and wife is such that their actions are not always to be
regarded by the criminal law as if there were no marriage.
By
making inroads in the name of law enforcement into the protection which
Congress has afforded to the marriage relationship, the Court today
continues in the path charted by the recent decision in <Wyatt>
v& <United States>, 362 U&S& 525, where the Court held that,
under the circumstances of that case, a wife could be compelled to
testify against her husband over her objection. One need not waver in
his belief in virile law enforcement to insist that there are other
things in American life which are also of great importance, and to which
even law enforcement must accommodate itself. One of these is the
solidarity and the confidential relationship of marriage. The Court's
opinion dogmatically asserts that the husband-wife conspiracy doctrine
does not in fact protect this relationship, and that hence the doctrine
"enthrone[s] an unreality into a rule of law". I am not
easily persuaded that a rule accepted by so many people for so many centuries
can be so lightly dismissed. But in any event, I submit that
the power to depose belongs to Congress, not to this Court. I dissent.
Petitioner, who claims to be a conscientious objector, was convicted
of violating @ 12 (a) of the Universal Military Training and Service
Act by refusing to be inducted into the armed forces. He claims
that he was denied due process of law in violation of the Fifth Amendment,
because (1) at a hearing before a hearing officer of the Department
of Justice, he was not permitted to rebut statements attributed
to him by the local board, and (2) at the trial, he was denied the right
to have the hearing officer's report and the original report of
the Federal Bureau of Investigation as to his claim. <Held>:
On the record in this case, the administrative procedures prescribed
by the Act were fully complied with; petitioner was not denied due
process; and his conviction is sustained. Pp& 60-66. _(A)_ Petitioner
was not denied due process in the administrative proceedings,
because the statement in question was in his file, to which he had access,
and he had opportunities to rebut it both before the hearing officer
of the Department of Justice and before the appeal board. Pp&
62-63. _(B)_
Petitioner was not entitled to have the hearing officer's
notes and report, especially since he failed to show any particular
need for them and he did have a copy of the Department of Justice's
recommendation to the appeal board. Pp& 63-64. _(C)_
Petitioner was not entitled, either in the administrative hearing at
the Department of Justice or at his trial, to inspect the original report
of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, since he was furnished
a resume of it, did not challenge its accuracy, and showed no particular
need for the original report. Pp& 64-66. <Haydn C&
Covington> argued the cause and filed a brief for petitioner.

<Daniel M& Friedman> argued the cause for the United States.
On the brief were <Solicitor General Rankin, Assistant Attorney
General Wilkey, Beatrice Rosenberg> and <J& F& Bishop>.

MR& JUSTICE CLARK delivered the opinion of the Court.

This is a prosecution for refusal to be inducted into the

armed services, in violation of the provisions of the Universal Military
Training and Service Act, 62 Stat& 604, 622, 50 U&S&C&
App& @ 462 (a). Petitioner, who claims to be a conscientious
objector, contends that he was denied due process, both in the proceedings
before a hearing officer of the Department of Justice and at
trial. He says that he was not permitted to rebut before the hearing
officer statements attributed to him by the local board, and, further,
that he was denied at trial the right to have the Department of Justice
hearing officer's report and the original report of the Federal
Bureau of Investigation as to his claim- all in violation of the
Fifth Amendment. The trial judge decided that the administrative procedures
of the Act were fully complied with and refused to require
the production of such documents. Petitioner was found guilty and sentenced
to 15 months' imprisonment. The Court of Appeals affirmed.
269 F& 2d 613. We granted certiorari in view of the importance of
the questions in the administration of the Act. 361 U& S& 899.
We have concluded that petitioner's claims are controlled by the rationale
of <gonzales> v& <United States>, 348 U&S& 407
(1955),
and <United States> v& <Nugent>, 346 U&S& 1 (1953),
and therefore affirm the judgment. Petitioner registered with
Local Board No& 9, Boulder, Colorado, on March 17, 1952. His
answers to the classification questionnaire reflected that he was a
minister of Jehovah's Witnesses, employed at night by a sugar producer.
He claimed /4,-~D classification as a minister of religion,
devoting a minimum of 100 hours a month to preaching. On November
13, 1952, he was classified in Class /1,-~A. On November 22,
1952, he wrote the Board, protesting this classification. He again stated
that he was "a regular minister"; that he was "devoting
an average
of 100 hours a month to actual preaching publicly", in addition to
50 to 75 hours in other ministerial duties, and that he opposed war in
any form. Thereafter he was classified /1,-~O. On April 1, 1953,
after some six months of full-time "pioneering", petitioner discontinued
devoting 100 hours a month to preaching, but failed to so
notify his local board. In a periodic review, the local board on July
30, 1953, reclassified him /1,-~A and upheld this classification
after a personal appearance by petitioner, because of his willingness
to kill in defense of his church and home. Upon administrative approval
of the reclassification, he was ordered to report for induction on
June 11, 1956, but failed to do so. He was not prosecuted, however,
and his case was subsequently reopened, in the light of <Sicurella>
v& <United States>, 348 U&S& 385 (1955). He was again
reclassified /1,-~A by the local board. There followed a customary
Department of Justice hearing, at which petitioner appeared. In
his report to the Attorney General, the hearing officer suggested that
the petitioner be exempt only from combatant training and service.
On March 21, 1957, however, the Department recommended approval of
the /1,-~A classification. Its ground for this recommendation was
that, while petitioner claimed before the local board August 17, 1956
(as evidenced by its memorandum in his file of that date), that he
was devoting 100 hours per month to actual preaching, the headquarters
of the Jehovah's Witnesses reported that he was no longer doing so
and, on the contrary, had relinquished both his Pioneer and Bible
Student Servant positions. It reported that he now devoted only some
6-1/2 hours per month to public preaching and from 20 to 25 hours per
month to church activities. His claim was therefore "so highly exaggerated",
the Department concluded, that it "cast doubt upon his
veracity and, consequently, upon his sincerity and good faith". The
appeal board furnished petitioner a copy of the recommendation. In
his answer thereto, he advised the Board that he had made no such statement
in 1956, and asserted that his only claim to "pioneering"
was in 1952. The appeal board, however, unanimously concurred in the
Department's recommendation. Upon return of the file to the local
board, petitioner was again ordered to report for induction and this
prosecution followed his failure to do so. Petitioner first contends
that the Department denied him procedural due process by not giving
him timely opportunity, before its final recommendation to the appeal
board, to answer the statement of the local board as to his claim
of devoting 100 hours to actual preaching. But the statement of the
local board attributing this claim to petitioner was in his file. He
admitted that he knew it was open to him at all times, and he could have
rebutted it before the hearing officer. This he failed to do, asserting
that he did not know it to be in his file. Apparently he never
took the trouble to find out. Nevertheless he had ample opportunity
to contest the statement before the appeal board. After the recommendation
of the Department is forwarded to the appeal board, that is the
appropriate place for a registrant to lodge his denial. This he did.
We found in <Gonzales> v& <United States, supra>, that this
was the controlling reason why copies of the recommendation should be
furnished a registrant. We said there that it was necessary "that
a registrant be given an opportunity to rebut [the Department's]
recommendation when it comes to the Appeal Board, the agency with the
ultimate responsibility for classification". 348 U&S&, at 412.
We fail to see how such procedure resulted in any prejudice to petitioner's
contention, which was considered by the appeal board and
denied by it. As was said in <Gonzales>, "it is the Appeal Board
which renders the selective service determination considered 'final'
in the courts, not to be overturned unless there is no basis in fact.
<Estep> v& <United States>, 327 U&S& 114". 348
U&
S&, at 412-413. But there are other contentions which might
be considered more difficult. At his trial, petitioner sought to secure
through subpoena <duces tecum> the longhand notes of the Department's
hearing officer, Evensen, as well as his report thereon. Petitioner
also claimed at trial the right to inspect the original Federal
Bureau of Investigation reports to the Department of Justice.
He alleged no specific procedural errors or evidence withheld; nor
did he elaborate just what favorable evidence the Federal Bureau of
Investigation reports might disclose. Section 6 (~j) of the
Act,
as we have held, does require the Department's recommendation to
be placed in a registrant's file. <Gonzales> v& <United States,
supra>. But there is nothing in the Act requiring the hearing
officer's report to be likewise turned over to the registrant. While
the regulations formerly required that the hearing officer's report
be placed in the registrant's file, this requirement was eliminated
in 1952. Moreover, the hearing officer's report is but intradepartmental,
is directed to the Attorney General and, of course, is not
the recommendation of the Department. It is not essentially different
from a memorandum of an attorney in the Department of Justice, of
which the Attorney General receives many, and to which he may give
his approval or rejection. It is but part of the whole process within
the Department that goes into the making of the final recommendation
to the appeal board. It is also significant that neither this
report nor the hearing officer's notes were furnished to the appeal
board. Hence the petitioner had full opportunity to traverse the only
conclusions of the Department on file with the Board. Petitioner
knew that the Department's recommendation was based not on the hearing
officer's report but on the statement of the local board in his
file. Having had every opportunity to rebut the finding of the local
board before both the hearing officer and the appeal board, petitioner
cannot now claim that he was denied due process because he did not succeed.

It appears to us that the same reasoning applies to the

production of the hearing officer's report and notes at the trial.
In addition, petitioner has failed to show any particular need for the
report and notes. While there are now allegations of the withholding
of "favorable evidence developed at the hearing" and a denial of
a "full and fair hearing", no such claim was made by petitioner at
any stage of the administrative process. Moreover, his testimony at
trial never developed any such facts. In the light of these circumstances,
as well as the fact that the issue at trial in this respect centered
entirely on the Department's recommendation, which petitioner
repudiated but which both the appeal board and the courts below found
supported by the record, we find no relevancy in the hearing officer's
report and notes. Finally petitioner says that he was entitled
to inspect the ~FBI report during the proceedings before the
hearing officer as well as at the trial. He did receive a resume of
it- the same that was furnished the appeal board- and he made no
claim of its inaccuracy. Even now no such claim is asserted. He bases
his present contention on the general right to explore, indicating that
he hopes to find some discrepancy in the resume. But this is fully
answered by <United States> v& <Nugent, supra>. There we held
"that the statutory scheme for review, within the selective service
system, **h entitles [conscientious objectors] to no guarantee
that
the ~FBI reports must be produced for their inspection". 346
U&S&, at 5-6. Even if we were not bound by <Nugent>, petitioner
here would not be entitled to the report. The recommendation of
the Department- as well as the decision of the appeal board- was
based entirely on the local board file, not on an ~FBI report.

#FOREIGN POLICY IN ITS TOTAL CONTEXT#

With this enlarged role in

mind, I should like to make a few suggestions: What we in the United
States do or do not do will make a very large difference in what
happens in the rest of the world. We in this Department must think about
foreign policy in its total context. We cannot regard foreign policy
as something left over after defense policy or trade policy or fiscal
policy has been extracted. Foreign policy is the total involvement
of the American people with peoples and governments abroad. That
means that, if we are to achieve a new standard of leadership, we must
think in terms of the total context of our situation. It is the concern
of the Department of State that the American people are safe and
secure- defense is not a monopoly concern of the Department of Defense.
It is also the concern of the Department of State that our
trading relationships with the rest of the world are vigorous, profitable,
and active- this is not just a passing interest or a matter of
concern only to the Department of Commerce. We can no longer rely on
interdepartmental machinery "somewhere upstairs" to resolve differences
between this and other departments. Assistant Secretaries of
State will now carry an increased burden of active formulation and coordination
of policies. Means must be found to enable us to keep in
touch as regularly and as efficiently as possible with our colleagues
in other departments concerned with foreign policy. I think we
need to concern ourselves also with the timeliness of action. Every
policy officer cannot help but be a planning officer. Unless we keep
our eyes on the horizon ahead, we shall fail to bring ourselves on target
with the present. The movement of events is so fast, the pace so
severe, that an attempt to peer into the future is essential if we are
to think accurately about the present. If there is anything which we
can do in the executive branch of the Government to speed up the processes
by which we come to decisions on matters on which we must act
promptly, that in itself would be a major contribution to the conduct
of our affairs. Action taken today is often far more valuable than action
taken several months later in response to a situation then out of
control. There will of course be times for delay and inaction.
What I am suggesting is that when we delay, or when we fail to act,
we do so intentionally and not through inadvertence or through bureaucratic
or procedural difficulties. I also hope that we can
do something about reducing the infant mortality rate of ideas- an affliction
of all bureaucracies. We want to stimulate ideas from the bottom
to the top of the Department. We want to make sure that our junior
colleagues realize that ideas are welcome, that initiative goes right
down to the bottom and goes all the way to the top. I hope no one
expects that only Presidential appointees are looked upon as sources
of ideas. The responsibility for taking the initiative in generating
ideas is that of every officer in the Department who has a policy function,
regardless of rank. Further, I would hope that we could
pay attention to little things. While observing the operations of
our Government in various parts of the world, I have felt that in many
situations where our policies were good we have tended to ignore minor
problems which spoiled our main effort. To cite only a few examples:
The wrong man in the wrong position, perhaps even in a junior
position
abroad, can be a source of great harm to our policy; the attitudes
of a U&N& delegate who experiences difficulty in finding adequate
housing in New York City, or of a foreign diplomat in similar
circumstances in our Capital, can be easily be directed against the United
States and all that it stands for. Dozens of seemingly small
matters go wrong all over the world. Sometimes those who know about them
are too far down the line to be able to do anything about them. I
would hope that we could create the recognition in the Department and
overseas that those who come across little things going wrong have the
responsibility for bringing these to the attention of those who can
do something about them. If the Department of State is to take
primary responsibility for foreign policy in Washington, it follows
that the ambassador is expected to take charge overseas. This does
not mean in a purely bureaucratic sense but in an active, operational,
interested, responsible fashion. He is expected to know about what
is going on among the representatives of other agencies who are stationed
in his country. He is expected to supervise, to encourage, to direct,
to assist in any way he can. If any official operation abroad begins
to go wrong, we shall look to the ambassador to find out why and
to get suggestions for remedial action.

#THE PROBLEMS OF A POLICY OFFICER#

It occurred to me that you might be interested in some thoughts

which I expressed privately in recent years, in the hope of clearing
up a certain confusion in the public mind about what foreign policy
is all about and what it means, and of developing a certain compassion
for those who are carrying such responsibilities inside Government.
I tried to do so by calling to their attention some of the problems
that a senior departmental policy officer faces. This means practically
everybody in this room. Whether it will strike home for you or not
will be for you to determine. The senior policy officer may
be moved to think hard about a problem by any of an infinite variety of
stimuli: an idea in his own head, the suggestions of a colleague,
a question from the Secretary or the President, a proposal by another
department, a communication from a foreign government or an American
ambassador abroad, the filing of an item for the agenda of the United
Nations or of any other of dozens of international bodies, a news
item read at the breakfast table, a question to the President or the
Secretary at a news conference, a speech by a Senator or Congressman,
an article in a periodical, a resolution from a national organization,
a request for assistance from some private American interests abroad,
et cetera, ad infinitum. The policy officer lives with his antennae
alerted for the questions which fall within his range of responsibility.

His first thought is about the question itself: Is

there a question here for American foreign policy, and, if so, what is
it? For he knows that the first and sometimes most difficult job
is to know what the question is- that when it is accurately identified
it sometimes answers itself, and that the way in which it is posed
frequently shapes the answer. Chewing it over with his colleagues
and in his own mind, he reaches a tentative identification of the
question- tentative because it may change as he explores it further
and because, if no tolerable answer can be found, it may have to be changed
into one which can be answered. Meanwhile he has been thinking
about the facts surrounding the problem, facts which he knows can
never be complete, and the general background, much of which has already
been lost to history. He is appreciative of the expert help available
to him and draws these resources into play, taking care to examine
at least some of the raw material which underlies their frequently
policy-oriented conclusions. He knows that he must give the expert his
place, but he knows that he must also keep him in it. He is
already beginning to box the compass of alternative lines of action,
including doing nothing. He knows that he is thinking about action in
relation to a future which can be perceived but dimly through a merciful
fog. But he takes his bearings from the great guidelines of policy,
well-established precedents, the commitments of the United States
under international charters and treaties, basic statutes, and well-understood
notions of the American people about how we are to conduct
ourselves, in policy literature such as country papers and National Security
Council papers accumulated in the Department. He will
not be surprised to find that general principles produce conflicting
results in the factual situation with which he is confronted. He must
think about which of these principles must take precedence. He will
know that general policy papers written months before may not fit his
problem because of crucial changes in circumstance. He is aware that
every moderately important problem merges imperceptibly into every other
problem. He must deal with the question of how to manage a part
when it cannot be handled without relation to the whole- when the whole
is too large to grasp. He must think of others who have a
stake in the question and in its answer. Who should be consulted among
his colleagues in the Department or other departments and agencies
of the Government? Which American ambassadors could provide helpful
advice? Are private interests sufficiently involved to be consulted?
What is the probable attitude of other governments, including
those less directly involved? How and at what stage and in what sequence
are other governments to be consulted? If action is indicated,
what kind of action is relevant to the problem? The selection
of the wrong tools can mean waste, at best, and at worst an unwanted
inflammation of the problem itself. Can the President or the Secretary
act under existing authority, or will new legislation and new money
be required? Should the action be unilateral or multilateral?
Is the matter one for the United Nations or some other international
body? For, if so, the path leads through a complex process of parliamentary
diplomacy which adds still another dimension to the problem.

#RESPECT FOR THE OPINIONS OF MANKIND#

What type of action can

hope to win public support, first in this country and then abroad?
For the policy officer will know that action can almost never be secret
and that in general the effectiveness of policy will be conditioned
by the readiness of the country to sustain it. He is interested in
public opinion for two reasons: first, because it is important in itself,
and, second, because he knows that the American public cares about
a decent respect for the opinions of mankind. And, given probable
public attitudes- about which reasonably good estimates can be made-
what action is called for to insure necessary support? May
I add a caution on this particular point? We do not want policy
officers below the level of Presidential appointees to concern themselves
too much with problems of domestic politics in recommending foreign
policy action. In the first place our business is foreign policy,
and it is the business of the Presidential leadership and his appointees
in the Department to consider the domestic political aspects of
a problem. Mr& Truman emphasized this point by saying, "You fellows
in the Department of State don't know much about domestic politics".

This is an important consideration. If we sit here

reading editorials and looking at public-opinion polls and other reports
that cross our desks, we should realize that this is raw, undigested
opinion expressed in the absence of leadership. What the American
people will do turns in large degree on their leadership. We cannot
test public opinion until the President and the leaders of the country
have gone to the public to explain what is required and have asked them
for support for the necessary action. I doubt, for example, that,
3 months before the leadership began to talk about what came to be the
Marshall plan, any public-opinion expert would have said that the country
would have accepted such proposals. The problem in the
policy officer's mind thus begins to take shape as a galaxy of utterly
complicated factors- political, military, economic, financial, legal,
legislative, procedural, administrative- to be sorted out and handled
within a political system which moves by consent in relation to
an external environment which cannot be under control. And the
policy officer has the hounds of time snapping at his heels.

While there should be no general age limit or restriction to one

sex, there will be particular projects requiring special maturity and
some open only to men or to women. The Peace Corps should not pay
the expenses of a wife or family, unless the wife is also accepted for
full-time Peace Corps work on the same project. There should
be no draft exemption because of Peace Corps service. In most cases
service in the Corps will probably be considered a ground for temporary
deferment. Peace Corps volunteers obviously should not
be paid what they might earn in comparable activities in the United
States. Nor would it be possible in many cases for them to live in
health or any effectiveness on what their counterparts abroad are paid.
The guiding principle indeed should not be anything like compensation
for individual services. Rather the principle should be akin
to that of the allowance. Peace Corps volunteers should be given
just enough to provide a minimum decent standard of living. They should
live in modest circumstances, avoiding all conspicuous consumption.
Wherever possible they should live with their host country counterparts.
Some special health requirements might have to be met. For example,
it probably will be necessary for the Corps to have authority to
pay medical expenses of volunteers. Perhaps existing Public Health
Service, State Department and Armed Services medical facilities
can be utilized. For readjustment to the U&S&, volunteers
should be given some separation allowance at the end of their overseas
service, based on the length of time served.

#7. IN WHAT PART OF

THE GOVERNMENT SHOULD THE PEACE CORPS BE ESTABLISHED?#

The idea
of a Peace Corps has captured the imagination of a great many people.
Support for it cuts across party, regional, ethnic and other lines.
The Peace Corps, therefore, offers an opportunity to add a new dimension
to our approach to the world- an opportunity for the American
people to think anew and start afresh in their participation in world
development. For this, the Peace Corps should be administered
by a small, new, alive agency operating as one component in our whole
overseas operation. Pending the reorganization of our foreign
aid structure and program, the Peace Corps should be established
as an agency in the Department of State. When the aid operations are
reorganized the Peace Corps should remain a semi-autonomous, functional
unit. Meanwhile, the Peace Corps could be physically located
in ~ICA's facilities and depend on the State Department and
~ICA for administrative support and, when needed, program assistance.

In this way the Peace Corps can be launched with its own
identity and spirit and yet receive the necessary assistance from those
now responsible for United States foreign policy and our overseas
operations.

#8. HOW AND WHEN SHOULD THE PEACE CORPS BE LAUNCHED?#

The Peace Corps can either begin in very low gear, with only preparatory
work undertaken between now and when Congress finally appropriates
special funds for it- or it can be launched now and in earnest
by executive action, with sufficient funds and made available from
existing Mutual Security appropriations to permit a number of substantial
projects to start this summer. The Peace Corps should
be launched soon so that the opportunity to recruit the most qualified
people from this year's graduating classes will not be lost. Nor
should we lose the opportunity to use this summer for training on university
campuses. If launched in a careful but determined way within
the next few weeks, the Peace Corps could have several hundred
persons in training this summer for placement next Fall. Within a year
or two several thousand might be in service. It can then grow steadily
as it proves itself and as the need for it is demonstrated.

#9.
WHAT WOULD THE FIRST PROJECTS BE?#

In the first year there should

probably be considerable emphasis on teaching projects. The need here
is most clearly felt and our capacity to recruit and train qualified
volunteers in a short period of time is greatest. There would,
however, be a variety of other skills- medical, agricultural, engineering-
which would be called for in the first year through the private
agency programs and through the provision of technician helpers
to existing development projects. The first year's projects
should also be spread through several countries in Latin America,
Africa and Asia.

#10. HOW WILL THE PEACE CORPS BE RECEIVED ABROAD?#

Although the need for outside trained manpower exists in every

newly developing nation, the readiness to receive such manpower, or to
receive it from the United States will vary from country to country.
A certain skepticism about the coming of Americans is to be expected
in many quarters. Unfriendly political groups will no doubt do everything
in their power to promote active hostility. But there are indications
that many developing nations will welcome Peace Corps volunteers,
and that if the volunteers are well chosen, they will soon demonstrate
their value and make many friends. It is important, however,
that the Peace Corps be advanced not as an arm of the Cold War
but as a contribution to the world community. In presenting it to
other governments and to the United Nations, we could propose that
every nation consider the formation of its own peace corps and that the
United Nations sponsor the idea and form an international coordinating
committee. We should hope that peace corps projects will be truly
international and that our citizens will find themselves working alongside
citizens of the host country and also volunteers from other lands.
In any case, our Peace Corps personnel should be offered as technician
helpers in development projects of the U&N& and other international
agencies. The Peace Corps is not a diplomatic or
propaganda venture but a genuine experiment in international partnership.
Our aim must be to learn as much as we teach. The Peace Corps
offers an opportunity to bring home to the United States the problems
of the world as well as an opportunity to meet urgent host country
needs for trained manpower. If presented in this spirit, the response
and the results will be immeasurably better.

#11. HOW WILL IT BE

FINANCED?#

The already appropriated funds within the discretion of

the President and Secretary of State under the Mutual Security
Act are the only immediately available source of financing this summer's
pilot programs of the Peace Corps. If it is decided to make a
small shift which may be required from military aid or special assistance
funds, in order to carry out the purposes of the Mutual Security
Act through this new peaceful program, this will be a hopeful sign
to the world. Congress should then be asked to give the Peace Corps
a firm legislative foundation for the next fiscal year. Specifically,
Congress should consider authorizing the Peace Corps to receive
contributions from American businesses, unions, civic organizations
and the public at large. For this must be the project of the whole
American people. An Advisory Council of outstanding public figures
with experience in world affairs should be formed to give the program
continuing guidance and to afford a focal point for public understanding.

Steps should also be taken to link the Food for Peace

Program with the Peace Corps, so that foreign currencies accumulated
by the sale of U&S& surplus food under P&L& 480 can be
put to use to pay some of the host country expenses of Peace Corps
personnel. The extent to which participating bodies such as U&
S& voluntary agencies, universities, international organizations,
and the host country or institutions in the host country can and should
share the cost of the Peace Corps programs must be fully explored.

#12. IS IT WORTH THE COST AND THE RISKS?#

No matter how well

conceived and efficiently run, there probably will be failures. These
could be costly and have a serious effect both at home and abroad.

But as the popular response suggests, the potentiality of the

Peace Corps is very great. It can contribute to the development of
critical countries and regions. It can promote international cooperation
and good will toward this country. It can also contribute to the
education of America and to more intelligent American participation
in the world. With thousands of young Americans going to work
in developing areas, millions of Americans will become more directly
involved in the world than ever before. With colleges and universities
carrying a large part of the program, and with students looking
toward Peace Corps service, there will be an impact on educational
curriculum and student seriousness. The letters home, the talks later
given by returning members of the Peace Corps, the influence on
the lives of those who spend two or three years in hard work abroad-
all this may combine to provide a substantial popular base for responsible
American policies toward the world. And this is meeting the world's
need, too, since what the world most needs from this country
is better understanding of the world. The Peace Corps thus can
add a new dimension to America's world policy- one for which people
here and abroad have long been waiting. As you said in your State
of the Union message. "The problems **h are towering and unprecedented-
and the response must be towering and unprecedented as well".

#TO THE CONGRESS OF THE UNITED STATES:#

I recommend to the Congress

the establishment of a permanent Peace Corps- <a pool of trained
American men and women sent overseas by the U&S& Government
or through private organizations and institutions to help foreign
countries meet their urgent needs for skilled manpower>. I
have today signed an Executive Order establishing a Peace Corps on
a temporary pilot basis. The temporary Peace Corps will be
a source of information and experience to aid us in formulating more
effective plans for a permanent organization. In addition, by starting
the Peace Corps now we will be able to begin training young men and
women for overseas duty this summer with the objective of placing them
in overseas positions by late fall. This temporary Peace Corps is
being established under existing authority in the Mutual Security
Act and will be located in the Department of State. Its initial expenses
will be paid from appropriations currently available for our foreign
aid program. Throughout the world the people of the newly
developing nations are struggling for economic and social progress which
reflects their deepest desires. Our own freedom, and the future
of freedom around the world, depend, in a very real sense, on their ability
to build growing and independent nations where men can live in dignity,
liberated from the bonds of hunger, ignorance and poverty.

One of the greatest obstacles to the achievement of this goal is

the lack of trained men and women with the skill to teach the young and
assist in the operation of development projects- men and women with
the capacity to cope with the demands of swiftly evolving economics,
and with the dedication to put that capacity to work in the villages,
the mountains, the towns and the factories of dozens of struggling nations.

The vast task of economic development urgently requires

skilled people to do the work of the society- to help teach in the
schools, construct development projects, demonstrate modern methods of
sanitation in the villages, and perform a hundred other tasks calling
for training and advanced knowledge. To meet this urgent need
for skilled manpower we are proposing the establishment of a Peace
Corps- an organization which will recruit and train American volunteers,
sending them abroad to work with the people of other nations.

This organization will differ from existing assistance programs

in that its members will supplement technical advisers by offering the
specific skills needed by developing nations if they are to put technical
advice to work. They will help provide the skilled manpower necessary
to carry out the development projects planned by the host governments,
acting at a working level and serving at great personal sacrifice.
There is little doubt that the number of those who wish to serve
will be far greater than our capacity to absorb them.
_WILDLIFE HABITAT RESOURCES_ In 1960 one-quarter of the 92.5 million
recreation visits to the National Forests and Grasslands were for
the primary purpose of hunting and fishing. Hunter and fisherman visits
since 1949 have increased 8 times faster than the nationwide sale
of hunting and fishing licenses. This use is expected to increase to
about 50 million visits by 1972. The long-range objective of habitat
management is to make it fully productive so as to support fish and
game populations to contribute to the need for public use and enjoyment.

The wildlife habitat management proposals for the 10-year period

are: _1._ Revise and complete wildlife habitat management
and improvement plans for all administrative units, assuring proper coordination
between wildlife habitat management and other resources. _2._
Inventory and evaluate wildlife habitat resources in cooperation
with other Federal agencies and with the States in which National
Forests and Grasslands are located, as a basis for orderly development
of wildlife habitat improvement and coordination programs, including
(a) big-game, gamebird, and small-game habitat surveys and investigations
on the 186 million acres of National Forests and Grasslands,
(b) fishery habitat surveys and investigations on the 81,000 miles
of National Forest fishing streams and nearly 3 million acres of lakes
and impoundments, and (c) participation in planning, inspection, and
control phases of all habitat improvement, land- and water-use projects
conducted on National Forest lands by States, other Federal agencies,
and private groups to assure that projects will benefit wildlife
and be in harmony with other resource values. _3._ Improve food
and cover on 1.5 million acres of key wildlife areas. _4._ Develop
wildlife openings, food patches, and game ways in dense vegetation
by clearing or controlled burning on 400,000 acres. _5._ Improve
7,000 miles of fishing streams and 56,000 acres of lakes by stabilizing
banks, planting streamside cover, and constructing channel improvements.

#PROTECTION#

The total adverse impact of disease, insects,

fire, weather, destructive animals, and other forces on the uses and
values of forest resources is not generally recognized. They kill and
destroy, retard or prevent reproduction and growth, impair and damage
values, and disrupt uses. The loss in growth of sawtimber because
of damage by destructive agencies in the United States in 1952
was estimated to be about 44 billion board feet. If it were not for the
effect of destructive agencies, sawtimber growth would have been nearly
twice as great as the 47 billion board feet in 1952. About 45 percent
of the loss in growth was attributable to disease, 20 percent to
insects, 17 percent to fire, and 18 percent to weather, animals, and
various other causes. These destructive forces also have a seriously
adverse effect upon the watersheds and their life-supporting waterflows,
and upon the other renewable forest resources. The long-range
objective is to hold the damage from destructive agencies below
the level which would seriously interfere with intensive management
of the National Forest System under principles of multiple use and
high-level sustained yield of products and services. This can be accomplished
substantially by a continued trend toward better facilities
and techniques for fire control and more resources to cope with critical
fire periods, and a more intensive application of a program of prevention,
detection, and control of insect and disease infestations. In
addition to direct protection measures, more intensive management of
timber resources will assist in reduction of losses from insects and
disease. _PROTECTION FROM INSECTS AND DISEASE_ In the 10-year period,
it is proposed that insect and disease control on the National Forest
System be stepped up to a level of prevention, detection, and
control of insect and disease infestations that will substantially reduce
the occurrence of large infestations toward the end of the initial
period. This will require about a 40 percent increase over the present
level of protection. The work will consist of: _1._ Intensification
of present activities through (a) quicker, more extensive, and
more thorough surveys to detect incipient outbreaks; (b) more reliable
evaluation of the potential of initial outbreaks to cause widespread
damage; (c) quicker and more effective control action in the initial
stages to prevent a large-scale epidemic. The initial suppression
activities would cover about twice the acreage currently being treated.
_2._ Continuation of present blister rust control work plus extension
of control to 250,000 acres not now protected but which should
be managed for white pine production. The objective is to achieve sufficient
effectiveness of control on all of the area now under treatment
plus the additional acres so that after the initial period only maintenance
control will be needed. _3._ Initiating a program to control
dwarfmistletoe on several hundred thousand acres of selected better
stands of young softwood sawtimber on better growing sites. _4._
Coordination of pest control objectives with timber management activities
to reduce losses. _PROTECTION FROM FIRE_ It is proposed
that in
10 years all commercial timberlands, all critical watersheds, and
other lands in the National Forest System developed or proposed for
intensive use will be given protection from fire adequate to meet the
fire situation in the worst years and under serious peak loads. This
will include 125 million acres compared with 23 million acres now receiving
such protection. An additional 15 million acres will be given
a lesser degree of protection but adequate to meet the average fire situation.

Meeting these levels of protection from fire calls for:

_1._ Expansion, modernization, and development of fire control
to a proficiency and strength of force which will prevent as many
fires as possible and suppress fires before they spread beyond permitted
standards. This is to be accomplished by nearly doubling the present
level of preventive effort, detection, skilled fire-fighting crews,
and equipment use. This will include a stepped-up program of training
and development of personnel. _2._ Adoption and use of new and
modern techniques being developed for prevention, for suppression of fires
while small, and for stopping large fires while running and burning
intensely. _3._ Reduction of hazardous fuel conditions to minimize
the chances of large fires developing and spreading to high-value
areas. This work will cover the most serious one-fourth of all land
needing such treatment, and will consist of burning 250,000 acres of highly
hazardous debris concentration, felling snags on 350,000 acres of
high lightning-occurrence areas, prescribed burning on 3.5 million acres,
removing roadside fuel on 39,000 acres, and clearing and maintaining
11,000 miles of firebreaks. _PROTECTION FROM OTHER DAMAGE_ Rodent
control work for the 10-year period will be aimed at control of
the most serious infestations of harmful rodents, such as porcupines
and mice, on high-value areas of forage and commercial timberlands. These
areas comprise about half of the total area of rodent infestation
on the National Forests. Approximately 1.8 million acres of rangelands
and 9.4 million acres of timberlands would be treated in this period.
Control would be limited to those rodents for which economical means
of control are known.

#ROADS AND TRAILS#

The transportation
system which serves the National Forests is a complex of highways and
access roads and trails under various ownerships and jurisdictions.
This system is divided into a forest highway system, administered by
the Secretary of Commerce, and a forest development road and trail system,
administered by the Secretary of Agriculture. Both of these
systems are essential for the production, development, and use of the
National
Forests. In the forest highway system, there are now
24,400 miles of public roads. These are mostly through highways that
carry traffic going from one destination to another. Because administration
of the forest highway system is a responsibility of the Secretary
of Commerce with maintenance provided by the States and counties,
this Development Program for the National Forests does not include
estimates of the funds needed to maintain the forest highway system
nor to construct the additions to its that are needed. It is estimated
that about 70,000 miles of forest highways will eventually be needed
to fully serve the National Forests. In the forest development
road and trail system, there are now 162,400 miles of roads and
106,500 miles of supplemental foot and horse trails. These roads are
largely of less than highway standards, and usually carry traffic which
is related to use of the National Forests. Construction and maintenance
of this system is a responsibility of the Secretary of Agriculture.
It is estimated that about 542,250 miles of forest development
roads, and 80,000 miles of trails, constitute the system that will eventually
be needed to obtain the maximum practicable yield and use of
the wood, water, forage, and wildlife and recreation resources of the
National Forests on a continuing basis. The ultimate trail system
will be of value primarily for recreation and wildlife utilization
and fire protection. It will be carefully planned to maintain optimum
service to these important resources and watersheds. The presence
or lack of access by road or trail has a direct and controlling
influence on all phases of forest management and utilization such as:
_(A)_ the protection of forage, timber, and wildlife resources
from fire, insects, and disease; _(B)_ the balanced use of recreation,
hunting, and fishing areas; _(C)_ the volume of timber that
can be marketed, especially for small sales and the support of dependent
communities and small business enterprises; _(D)_ the level
of salvage cutting in dead and dying timber stands and the opportunity
to promptly salvage losses resulting from fire, windstorm, insects,
and disease; _(E)_ the protection of watershed lands from erosion
and overgrazing by animals. The existence of road systems
permits an intensity of management and use for all National Forest purposes
that is not otherwise possible. Furthermore, roads that give
access to National Forest timber are investments which pay their own
way over a period of years. Use of these roads by the public results
in substantial benefits to the localities the roads serve. The
long-range objective of this Department is to provide and maintain
a system of forest development roads and trails which will adequately
service the National Forest System at the levels needed to meet expected
needs and optimum production of products and services. For the
year 2000 this means servicing (a) the protection requirements of a watershed
producing at least 200 million acre-feet of water each year, (b)
recreation and wildlife resources used each year by 635 million visitors,
(c) a timber resource supporting an annual cut of 21 billion board
feet, and (d) 60 million acres of rangelands. Service at these
levels of production and utilization will eventually require the
construction of about 379,900 miles of new roads and 6,000 miles of new
trails, along with the reconstruction to higher standards of about 105,000
miles of roads and 10,500 miles of trails. About 26,500 miles
of existing trails will be replaced in service by the construction of
new roads. About 80 percent of these long-range requirements should be
met by the year 2000. Program proposals for forest development
roads and trails for the 10-year period 1963-1972 are as follows:
_1._ Complete the construction and reconstruction of about 79,400
miles of multiple-purpose roads and 8,000 miles of trails. This constitutes
about 17 percent of the long-range requirements for these facilities.

Approximately 40 percent of the value of the work on

roads for access to timber which are planned for this period will be constructed
by purchasers of National Forest timber, but paid for by
the Government through adjustment of stumpage prices. _2._ Provide
maintenance to full standards on the 268,900 miles of existing access
roads and trails and on the new roads and trails constructed during
the period.

#LAND ADJUSTMENT, LAND PURCHASE, LAND USE#

Within the
units in the National Forest System the pattern of land ownership
is quite irregular. In some units, National Forest ownership is well
blocked together. In many others, the previous patenting of land
under the public land laws, or the way in which land was available for
purchase, resulted in a scattered pattern of ownership. Within
exterior boundaries of National Forests and National Grasslands,
there are about 40,000,000 acres in non-Federal ownership. One consequence
is the occurrence of occasional conflicts because private owners
of some inholdings object to public programs of use on neighboring
National Forest or other Federal land, or because such ownerships are
developed for uses that are not compatible with use for the public
of neighboring National Forest land. Some privately held inholdings
are a source of direct damage to these Federal lands. And some, which
are suitable for tree growing and for other National Forest purposes,
are unmanaged or in need of expensive rehabilitation, and are contributing
nothing to the economy; there are no reasonable prospects
that these conditions will be corrected or changed. Lands in this last
category are situated largely in the mountainous portions of the Eastern
States. The long-range objective is to bring about consolidation
of ownership through use of land exchange authority and through
purchase on a moderate scale of inholdings which comprise key tracts
for recognized National Forest programs such as recreation development,
or which are a source of damage to lands in National Forests
and National Grasslands.

Strategy and tactics of the U&S& military forces are now

undergoing one of the greatest transitions in history. The change of
emphasis from conventional-type to missile-type warfare must be made
with care, mindful that the one type of warfare cannot be safely neglected
in favor of the other. Our military forces must be capable of
contending successfully with any contingency which may be forced upon
us, from limited emergencies to all-out nuclear general war.

#FORCES
AND MILITARY PERSONNEL STRENGTH.#- This budget will provide in
the fiscal year 1961 for the continued support of our forces at approximately
the present level- a year-end strength of 2,489,000 men and
women in the active forces. The forces to be supported include an Army
of 14 divisions and 870,000 men; a Navy of 817 active ships and
619,000 men; a Marine Corps of 3 divisions and 3 air wings with 175,000
men; and an Air Force of 91 combat wings and 825,000 men.

If the reserve components are to serve effectively in time of war,

their basic organization and objectives must conform to the changing
character and missions of the active forces. Quality and combat readiness
must take precedence over mere numbers. Under modern conditions,
this is especially true of the ready reserve. I have requested the
Secretary of Defense to reexamine the roles and missions of the reserve
components in relation to those of the active forces and in the light
of the changing requirements of modern warfare. Last year
the Congress discontinued its previously imposed minimum personnel strength
limitations on the Army Reserve. Similar restrictions on the
strength of the Army National Guard contained in the 1960 Department
of Defense Appropriation Act should likewise be dropped. I strongly
recommend to the Congress the avoidance of mandatory floors on
the size of the reserve components so that we may have the flexibility
to make adjustments in keeping with military necessity. I again
proposed a reduction in the Army National Guard and Army Reserve-
from their present strengths of 400,000 and 300,000, respectively,
to 360,000 and 270,000 by the end of the fiscal year 1961. These
strengths are considered adequate to meet the essential roles and missions
of the reserves in support of our national security objectives.

#MILITARY PERSONNEL COSTS.#- About 30% of the expenditures for

the Department of Defense in 1961 are for military personnel costs,
including pay for active, reserve, and retired military personnel. These
expenditures are estimated to be $12.1 billion, an increase of $187
million over 1960, reflecting additional longevity pay of career personnel,
more dependents, an increased number of men drawing proficiency
pay, and social security tax increases (effective for the full year
in 1961 compared with only 6 months in 1960). Retired pay costs are
increased by $94 million in 1961 over 1960, partly because of a substantial
increase in the number of retired personnel. These increased costs
are partially offset by a decrease of $56 million in expenditures
for the reserve forces, largely because of the planned reduction in strength
of the Army Reserve components during 1961. Traditionally,
rates of pay for retired military personnel have been proportionate
to current rates of pay for active personnel. The 1958 military
pay act departed from this established formula by providing for a 6%
increase rather than a proportionate increase for everyone retired prior
to its effective date of June 1, 1958. I endorse pending legislation
that will restore the traditional relationship between retired and
active duty pay rates.

#OPERATION AND MAINTENANCE.#- Expenditures

for operating and maintaining the stations and equipment of the Armed
Forces are estimated to be $10.3 billion in 1961, which is $184
million more than in 1960. The increase stems largely from the growing
complexity of and higher degree of maintenance required for newer weapons
and equipment. A substantial increase is estimated in the
cost of operating additional communications systems in the air defense
program, as well as in all programs where speed and security of communications
are essential. Also, the program for fleet modernization
will be stepped up in 1961 causing an increase in expenditures. Further
increases arise from the civilian employee health program enacted
by the Congress last year. Other factors increasing operating
costs include the higher unit cost of each flying hour, up 11% in two
years, and of each steaming hour, up 15%. In total, these increases
in operating costs outweigh the savings that result from declining
programs and from economy measures, such as reduced numbers of units
and installations, smaller inventories of major equipment, and improvements
in the supply and distribution systems of the Armed Forces.

In the budget message for 1959, and again for 1960, I recommended
immediate repeal of section 601 of the Act of September 28, 1951
(65 Stat& 365). This section prevents the military departments and
the Office of Civil and Defense Mobilization from carrying out certain
transactions involving real property unless they come into agreement
with the Committees on Armed Services of the Senate and the House
of Representatives. As I have stated previously, the Attorney
General has advised me that this section violates fundamental constitutional
principles. Accordingly, if it is not repealed by the Congress
at its present session, I shall have no alternative thereafter but
to direct the Secretary of Defense to disregard the section unless
a court of competent jurisdiction determines otherwise. Basic
long-line communications in Alaska are now provided through Federal
facilities operated by the Army, Air Force, and Federal Aviation
Agency. The growing communications needs of this new State can best
be met, as they have in other States, through the operation and development
of such facilities by private enterprise. Legislation has already
been proposed to authorize the sale of these Government-owned
systems in Alaska, and its early enactment is desirable.

#PROCUREMENT,
RESEARCH, AND CONSTRUCTION.#- Approximately 45% of the expenditures
for the Department of Defense are for procurement, research,
development, and construction programs. In 1961, these expenditures
are estimated at $18.9 billion, compared to $19.3 billion in 1960. The
decreases, which are largely in construction and in aircraft procurement,
are offset in part by increases for research and development and
for procurement of other military equipment such as tanks, vehicles,
guns, and electronic devices. Expenditures for shipbuilding are estimated
at about the same level as in 1960. New obligational authority
for 1961 recommended in this budget for aircraft procurement (excluding
amounts for related research and construction) totals $4,753
million, which is $1,390 million below that enacted for 1960. On the
other hand, the new authority of $3,825 million proposed for missile
procurement (excluding research and construction) in 1961 is $581 million
higher than for 1960. These contrasting trends in procurement reflect
the anticipated changes in the composition and missions of our Armed
Forces in the years ahead. The Department of Defense appropriation
acts for the past several years have contained a rider which
limits competitive bidding by firms in other countries on certain
military supply items. As I have repeatedly stated, this provision is
much more restrictive than the general law, popularly known as the Buy
American Act. I urge once again that the Congress not reenact
this rider. The task of providing a reasonable level of military
strength, without endangering other vital aspects of our security,
is greatly complicated by the swift pace of scientific progress. The
last few years have witnessed what have been perhaps the most rapid advances
in military technology in history. Some weapons systems have
become obsolescent while still in production, and some while still under
development. Furthermore, unexpectedly rapid progress or a
technological break-through on any one weapon system, in itself, often
diminishes the relative importance of other competitive systems. This
has necessitated a continuous review and reevaluation of the defense
program in order to redirect resources to the newer and more important
weapons systems and to eliminate or reduce effort on weapons systems
which have been overtaken by events. Thus, in the last few years, a
number of programs which looked very promising at the time their development
was commenced have since been completely eliminated. For example,
the importance of the Regulus /2,, a very promising aerodynamic
ship-to-surface missile designed to be launched by surfaced submarines,
was greatly diminished by the successful acceleration of the much more
advanced Polaris ballistic missile launched by submerged submarines.

Another example is the recent cancellation of the ~F-108,

a long-range interceptor with a speed three times as great as the speed
of sound, which was designed for use against manned bombers in the
period of the mid-1960's. The substantial progress being made in ballistic
missile technology is rapidly shifting the main threat from manned
bombers to missiles. Considering the high cost of the ~F-108
system- over $4 billion for the force that had been planned- and
the time period in which it would become operational, it was decided to
stop further work on the project. Meanwhile, other air defense forces
are being made effective, as described later in this message.

The size and scope of other important programs have been reduced from
earlier plans. Notable in this category are the Jupiter and Thor
intermediate range ballistic missiles, which have been successfully developed,
produced, and deployed, but the relative importance of which
has diminished with the increasing availability of the Atlas intercontinental
ballistic missile. The impact of technological factors
is also illustrated by the history of the high-energy fuel program.
This project was started at a time when there was a critical need for
a high-energy fuel to provide an extra margin of range for high performance
aircraft, particularly our heavy bombers. Continuing technical
problems involved in the use of this fuel, coupled with significant
improvements in aircraft range through other means, have now raised serious
questions about the value of the high-energy fuel program. As
a result, the scope of this project has been sharply curtailed.
These examples underscore the importance of even more searching evaluations
of new major development programs and even more penetrating and
far-ranging analyses of the potentialities of future technology. The
cost of developing a major weapon system is now so enormous that the
greatest care must be exercised in selecting new systems for development,
in determining the most satisfactory rate of development, and in
deciding the proper time at which either to place a system into production
or to abandon it.

#STRATEGIC FORCES.#- The deterrent power

of our Armed Forces comes from both their nuclear retaliatory capability
and their capability to conduct other essential operations in any
form of war. The first capability is represented by a combination
of manned bombers, carrier-based aircraft, and intercontinental and intermediate
range missiles. The second capability is represented by our
deployed ground, naval, and air forces in essential forward areas, together
with ready reserves capable of effecting early emergency reinforcement.

The Strategic Air Command is the principal element

of our long-range nuclear capability. One of the important and difficult
decisions which had to be made in this budget concerned the role
of the ~B-70, a long-range supersonic bomber. This aircraft, which
was planned for initial operational use about 1965, would be complementary
to but likewise competitive with the four strategic ballistic missile
systems, all of which are scheduled to become available earlier.
The first Atlas ~ICBM's are now operational, the first two
Polaris submarines are expected to be operational this calendar year,
and the first Titan ~ICBM's next year. The Minuteman solid-fueled
~ICBM is planned to be operational about mid-1963. By
1965, several or all of these systems will have been fully tested and
their reliability established. Thus, the need for the ~B-70
as a strategic weapon system is doubtful. However, I am recommending
that development work on the ~B-70 air-frame and engines be continued.
It is expected that in 1963 two prototype aircraft will be available
for flight testing. By that time we should be in a much better
position to determine the value of that aircraft as a weapon system.

I am recommending additional acquisitions of the improved version

of the ~B-52 (the ~B-52~H with the new turbofan engine)
and procurement of the ~B-58 supersonic medium bomber, together with
the supporting refueling tankers in each case. These additional modern
bombers will replace some of the older ~B-47 medium bombers;
one ~B-52 can do the work of several ~B-47's which it will replace.
Funds are also included in this budget to continue the equipping
of the ~B-52 wings with the Hound Dog air-to-surface missile.

In the coming fiscal year additional quantities of Atlas, Titan,

and Polaris missiles also will be procured.
Purchase authorizations will include provisions relating to the sale
and delivery of commodities, including the classes, types and/or varieties
of food grain, the time and circumstances of deposit of the rupees
accruing
from such sale, and other relevant matters. _3._ The United States
recognizes the desire of India to accumulate, as quickly as possible,
a substantial part of the one million ton reserve stock of rice
provided for in this Agreement to assist in stabilizing the internal
markets for this commodity in India. Under this Agreement the first
annual review of rice availabilities will be made in August 1960.
At that time consideration will be given to whether in the light of
the United States supplies of rice available for Title /1, disposal,
India's production, consumption and stocks of food grains, other
imports from the United States and countries friendly to the United
States, India's storage capacity, and other related factors, any
increase would be possible in the portion of the total rice programmed
which is currently planned for procurement during the first year. _4._
The two Governments agree that the issuance of purchase authorizations
for wheat and rice providing for purchase after June 30, 1961,
shall be dependent upon the determination by the United States
Government that these commodities are in surplus supply and available
under Title /1, of the Act at that time. The United States Government
shall have the right to terminate the financing of further sales
under this Agreement of any commodity if it determines at any time
after June 30, 1961, that such action is necessitated by the existence
of an international emergency.

#ARTICLE /2, USES OF RUPEES#

_1._ The two Governments agree that the rupees accruing to the Government
of the United States of America as a consequence of sales
made pursuant to this Agreement will be used by the Government of
the United States of America, in such manner and order of priority
as the Government of the United States of America shall determine,
for the following purposes in the amounts shown: _(A)_ For United
States expenditures under subsections (~a), (~b), (~d), (~e),
(~f), (~h) through (~r) of Section 104 of the Act or under
any of such subsections, the rupee equivalent of $200 million. _(B)_
For grant to the Government of India under subsection (~e)
of Section 104 of the Act, the rupee equivalent of not more than $538
million for financing such projects to promote balanced economic development
as may from time to time be mutually agreed. _(C)_ For loan
to the Government of India under subsection (~g) of Section 104
of the Act, the rupee equivalent of not more than $538 million for
financing such projects to promote balanced economic development as may
be mutually agreed. The terms and conditions of the loan and other
provisions will be set forth in a separate agreement by the two Governments.

In the event that agreement is not reached on the use

of the rupees for grant or loan purposes within six years from the date
of this Agreement, the Government of the United States of America
may use the local currency for any purposes authorized by Section
104 of the Act. _2._ In the event the total of rupees accruing
to the Government of the United States of America as a consequence
of sales made pursuant to this Agreement is different from the rupee
equivalent of $1,276 million, the amounts available for the purposes
specified in paragraph 1, Article /2, will be adjusted proportionately.

#ARTICLE /3, DEPOSIT OF RUPEES#

The deposit of rupees to

the account of the Government of the United States of America in payment
for the commodities and for ocean transportation costs financed
by the Government of the United States of America (except excess
costs resulting from the requirement that United States flag vessels
be used) shall be made at the rate of exchange for United States dollars
generally applicable to import transactions (excluding imports granted
a preferential rate) in effect on the dates of dollar disbursement
by United States banks, or by the Government of the United States
of America, as provided in the purchase authorizations.

#ARTICLE
/4, GENERAL UNDERTAKINGS#

_1._ The Government of India agrees

that it will take all possible measures to prevent the resale or
transshipment to other countries or the use for other than domestic purposes
(except where such resale, transshipment or use is specifically
approved by the Government of the United States of America), of
the surplus agricultural commodities purchased pursuant to the provisions
of this Agreement, and to assure that the purchase of such commodities
does not result in increased availability of these or like commodities
for export from India. _2._ The two Governments agree that
they will take reasonable precautions to assure that all sales or purchases
of surplus agricultural commodities, pursuant to the Agreement
will not displace usual marketings of the United States of America
in these commodities, or unduly disrupt world prices of agricultural
commodities or normal patterns of commercial trade with friendly countries.
_3._ In carrying out this Agreement, the two Governments
will seek to assure, to the extent practicable, conditions of commerce
permitting private traders to function effectively and will use their
best endeavors to develop and extend continuous market demand for agricultural
commodities. _4._ The Government of India agrees to
furnish, upon request of the United States of America, information
on the progress of the program, particularly with respect to the arrival
and condition of commodities and the provisions for the maintenance
of usual marketings, and information relating to exports of the same
or like commodities.

#ARTICLE /5, CONSULTATION#

The two Governments

will, upon the request of either of them, consult regarding any
matter relating to the application of this Agreement or to the operation
of arrangements carried out pursuant to this Agreement.

#ARTICLE
/6, ENTRY INTO FORCE#
The agreement shall enter into force upon
signature. IN WITNESS WHEREOF, the respective representatives,
duly authorized for the purpose, have signed the present Agreement.

DONE at Washington in duplicate this fourth day of

May 1960. FOR THE GOVERNMENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA:

DWIGHT D& EISENHOWER FOR THE GOVERNMENT

OF INDIA: S& K& PATIL
EXCELLENCY: I have the honor to refer to the Agricultural
Commodities Agreement signed today between the Government of the
United States of America and the Government of India (hereinafter
referred to as the Agreement) and, with regard to the rupees accruing
to uses indicated under Article /2, of the Agreement, to state
that the understanding of the Government of the United States of
America is as follows: _1._ With respect to Article /2,, Paragraph
1 (~a) of the Agreement: _(/1,)_ The Government
of India will provide facilities for the conversions of the rupee equivalent
of $4 million (up to a maximum of $1 million per year) accruing
under the subject agreement for agricultural market development purposes
into currencies other than United States dollars on request of
the Government of the United States of America. This facility is
needed for the purpose of securing funds to finance agricultural market
development activities of the Government of the United States in
other countries. The Government of the United States of America
may utilize rupees in India to pay for goods and services, including
international transportation needed in connection with market development
and other agricultural projects and activities in India and
other countries. _(/2,)_ The rupee equivalent of $63.8 million,
but not more than 5 percent of the currencies received under the Agreement
will be used for loans to be made by the Export-Import Bank
of Washington under Section 104 (~e) of the Agricultural Trade
Development and Assistance Act, as amended (hereinafter referred to
as the Act), and for administrative expenses of the Export-Import
Bank of Washington in India incident thereto. It is understood that:
_(A)_ Such loans under Section 104 (~e) of the Act will
be made to United States business firms and branches, subsidiaries,
or affiliates of such firms in India for business development and trade
expansion in India and to United States firms and to Indian firms
for the establishment of facilities for aiding in the utilization,
distribution, or otherwise increasing the consumption of and markets
for United States agricultural products. In the event the rupees set
aside for loans under Section 104 (~e) of the Act are not advanced
within six years from the date of this Agreement because the Export-Import
Bank of Washington has not approved loans or because proposed
loans have not been mutually agreeable to the Export-Import Bank
of Washington and the Department of Economic Affairs of the Government
of India, the Government of the United States of America
may use the rupees for any purpose authorized by Section 104 of the
Act. _(B)_ Loans will be mutually agreeable to the Export-Import
Bank of Washington and the Government of India acting through
the Department of Economic Affairs of the Ministry of Finance. The
Secretary, Department of Economic Affairs, or his designate, will
act for the Government of India, and the President of the Export-Import
Bank of Washington, or his designate, will act for the Export-Import
Bank of Washington. _(C)_ Upon receipt of an application
which the Export-Import Bank is prepared to consider, the Export-Import
Bank will inform the Department of Economic Affairs
of the identity of the applicant, the nature of the proposed business,
the amount of the proposed loan, and the general purposes for which the
loan proceeds would be expended. _(D)_ When the Export-Import
Bank is prepared to act favorably upon an application, it will so notify
the Department of Economic Affairs and will indicate the interest
rate and the repayment period which would be used under the proposed
loan. The interest rate will be similar to those prevailing in India
on comparable loans and the maturities will be consistent with the
purposes of the financing. _(E)_ Within sixty days after the receipt
of notice that the Export-Import Bank is prepared to act favorably
upon an application the Department of Economic Affairs will indicate
to the Export-Import Bank whether or not the Department of
Economic Affairs has any objection to the proposed loan. Unless within
the sixty-day period the Export-Import Bank has received such
a communication from the Department of Economic Affairs it shall be
understood that the Department of Economic Affairs has no objection
to the proposed loan. When the Export-Import Bank approves or declines
the proposed loan, it will notify the Department of Economic
Affairs. _2._ With respect to Article /2,, paragraphs 1 (~b)
and 1 (~c):
Uses of Section 104 (~e) and Section 104(~g) rupees: The
Government of India will use the amount of rupees granted or loaned
to it by the United States pursuant to paragraphs 1(~b) and 1(~c)
for projects to promote economic development with emphasis upon
the agricultural sector including food reserve storage structures and
facilities as may from time to time be agreed upon by the authorized
representatives of the United States and the authorized representatives
of the Government of India, in the following sectors: _A._
Agriculture. _B._ Industry, including the production of fertilizer,
irrigation and power, transport and communications, and credit institutions.
_C._ Public health, education, and rehabilitation. _D._
Other economic development projects consistent with the purposes
of Sections 104 (~e) and 104 (~g) of the Act. The Government
of India further agrees in cooperation with the Government of the
United States, to coordinate the use of grant and loan funds provided
for in paragraphs 1
(~b) and 1 (~c) of Article /2, with such direct
dollar assistance as may be made available by the Government of
the United States of America, so that both sources of financing may
be channeled to specific and clearly identifiable economic development
programs and projects. _3._ It is agreed that any goods delivered
or services rendered after the date of this agreement for projects
within categories ~A, ~B, and ~C under paragraph 2 above which
may later be approved by the United States will be eligible for financing
from currency granted or loaned to the Government of India.
_4._ With regard to the rupees accruing to uses indicated under
Article /2, of the Agreement, the understanding of the Government
of the United States of America, with respect to both paragraphs 1
(~b) and 1 (~c) of Article /2, is as follows: _(/1,)_
Local currency will be advanced or reimbursed to the Government of India
for financing agreed projects under paragraphs 1 (~b) and 1 (~c)
of Article /2, of the Agreement upon the presentation of such
documentation as the United States may specify. _(/2,)_ The
Government of India shall maintain or cause to be maintained books and
records adequate to identify the goods and services financed for agreed
projects pursuant to paragraphs 1 (~b) and 1 (~c) of Article
/2, of the Agreement, to disclose the use thereof in the projects
and to record the progress of the projects (including the cost thereof).
The books and records with respect to each project shall be maintained
for the duration of the project, or until the expiration of three
years after final disbursement for the project has been made by the United
States, whichever is later. The two Governments shall have the
right at all reasonable times to examine such books and records and
all other documents, correspondence, memoranda and other records involving
transactions relating to agreed projects. The Government of India
shall enable the authorized representatives of the United States
to observe and review agreed projects and the utilization of goods and
services financed under the projects, and shall furnish to the United
States all such information as it shall reasonably request concerning
the above-mentioned matters and the expenditures related thereto.
This broad delegation leaves within our discretion (subject to the always-present
criterion of the public interest) both the determination
of what degree of interference shall be considered excessive, and the
methods by which such excessive interference shall be avoided. _3._
The present proceeding is concerned with the standard broadcast (~AM)
band, from 540 kc& to 1600 kc&. Whenever two or more standard
broadcast stations operate simultaneously on the same or closely adjacent
frequencies, each interferes to some extent with reception of
the other. The extent of such interference- which may be so slight
as to be undetectable at any point where either of the stations renders
a usable signal, or may be so great as to virtually destroy the service
areas of both stations- depends on many factors, among the principal
ones being the distance between the stations, their respective
radiated power, and, of particular significance here, <the time of day>.
Other factors playing a part in the the extent of ~AM service
and interference are the frequency involved, the time of year, the position
of the year in the sunspot cycle, ground conductivity along
the
transmission path, atmospheric and manmade noise, and others. With the
existence of these many factors, some of them variable, it obviously
has never been and is not now possible for the Commission to make assignments
of ~AM stations on a case-to-case basis which will insure
against any interference in any circumstances. Rather, such assignments
are made, as they must be, on the basis of certain overall rules
and standards, representing to some extent a statistical approach to
the problem, taking into account for each situation some of the variables
(e&g&, power and station separations) and averaging out others
in order to achieve the balance which must be struck between protection
against destructive interference and the assignment of a number of
stations large enough to afford optimum radio service to the Nation.
An example of the overall standards applied is the 20-to-1 ratio established
for the determination of that degree of cochannel interference
which is regarded as objectionable. By this standard, it is determined
that where two stations operating on the same frequency are involved,
objectionable interference from station ~A exists at any point within
the service area of station ~B where station ~A's signal
is of an intensity one-twentieth or more of the strength of station ~B's
signal at that point. _4._ The 20-to-1 ratio for cochannel
interference embodies one of the fundamental limiting principles which
we must always take into account in ~AM assignments and allocations-
that signals from a particular station are potential sources
of objectionable interference over an area much greater than that within
which they provide useful service. A second fundamental principle
is that involved particularly in the present proceeding- the difference
between nighttime and daytime propagation conditions with respect
to the standard broadcast frequencies. This is a phenomenon familiar
to all radio listeners, resulting from reflection of skywave signals at
night from the ionized layer in the upper atmosphere known as the ionosphere.
All ~AM stations radiate both skywave and groundwave signals,
at all hours; but during the middle daytime hours these skywave
radiations are not reflected in any substantial quantity, and during
this portion of the day both skywave service and skywave interference
are, in general, negligible. But during nighttime hours the skywave
radiations are reflected from the ionosphere, thereby creating the possibility
of one station's rendering service, via skywave, at a much
greater distance than it can through its groundwave signal, and at the
same time vastly complicating the interference problem because of the
still greater distance over which these skywave signals may cause interference
to the signals of stations on the same and closely adjacent
frequencies. Because of the difference between daytime and nighttime
propagation conditions, it has been necessary to evolve different allocation
structures for daytime and nighttime broadcasting in the ~AM
band, with many more stations operating during the day than at night.
_5._ It was recognized years ago that the transition from daytime
to nighttime propagation conditions, and vice versa, is not an instantaneous
process, but takes place over periods of time from roughly
2 hours before sunset until about 2 hours after sunset, and again from
roughly 2 hours before sunrise until some 2 hours after sunrise. During
the period of about 4 hours around sunset, skywave transmission conditions
are building up until full nighttime conditions prevail; during
the same period around sunrise, skywave transmission is declining,
until at about 2 hours after sunrise it reaches a point where it becomes
of little practical significance. However, in this case as elsewhere
it was necessary to arrive at a single standard to be applied to
all situations, representing an averaging of conditions, and thus to
fix particular points in time which would be considered the dividing points
between daytime and nighttime conditions. It was determined that
the hours of sunrise and sunset, respectively, should be used for this
purpose. Accordingly, the 1938-39 rules adopted these hours as limitations
upon the operation of daytime stations. Class /2, stations
operating on clear channels are required to cease operation or operate
under nighttime restrictions beginning either at local sunset (for daytime
class /2, stations) or sunset at the location of the dominant
class /1, station where located west of the class /2, station (for
limited-time class /2, stations). The same restrictions apply
after local sunset in the case of class /3, stations operating on
regional channels, which after that time are required to operate under
nighttime restrictions in order to protect each other. With respect
to nighttime assignments, the degree of skywave service and interference
is determined by skywave curves (figs& 1 and 2 of sec& 3.190
of the rules) giving average skywave values. These curves were derived
by an analysis of extensive skywave measurement data. It was recognized
that skywave signals, because of their reflected nature, are of great
variability and subject to wide fluctuations in strength. For this
reason, the more uncertain skywave service was denominated "secondary"
in our rules, as compared to the steadier, more reliable groundwave
"primary service", and, for both skywave service and skywave
interference, signal strength is expressed in terms of percentage of
time a particular signal-intensity level is exceeded- 50 percent of
the time for skywave service, 10 percent of the time for skywave interference.

#ALLOCATION POLICIES#

_6._ As mentioned, the allocation

of ~AM stations represents a balance between protection against
interference and the provision of opportunity for an adequate number
of stations. The rules and policies to be applied in this process of
course must be based on objectives which represent what is to be desired
if radio service is to be of maximum use to the Nation. Our objectives,
as we have stated many times, are- _(1)_ To provide some
service to all listeners; _(2)_ To provide as many choices of
service to as many listeners as possible; _(3)_ To provide service
of local origin to as many listeners as possible. Since broadcast
frequencies are very limited in number, these objectives are to some
extent inconsistent in that not all of them can be fully realized, and
to the extent that each is realized, there is a corresponding reduction
of the possibilities for fullest achievement of the others. Accordingly,
the Commission has recognized that an optimum allocation pattern
for one frequency does not necessarily represent the best pattern
for other frequencies, and has assigned different frequencies for use
by different classes of stations. Some 45 frequencies are assigned for
use primarily by dominant <Class /1,- ~A> or <Class /1,-
~B clear-channel> stations, designed to operate with adequate
power and to provide service- both groundwave and (at night) skywave-
over large areas and at great distances, being protected against
interference to the degree necessary to achieve this objective. In dealing
with these frequencies, the objective listed first above- provision
of service to all listeners- was predominant; the other objectives
were subordinated to it. The class /1, stations on these clear
channels are protected to their 0.1-mv&/m& groundwave contours
against daytime cochannel interference. With respect to skywave service
rendered at night, class /1,- ~A stations are the only stations
permitted to operate in the United States on clear channels specified
for class /1,- ~A operation, and so render skywave service
free
from cochannel interference whereever they may be received; class
/1,- ~B stations are protected at night to their 0.5-mv&/m&
50-percent
time skywave contours against cochannel interference. Since
the provision of skywave service requires adequate freedom from interference,
only class /1, stations are capable of rendering skywave service.
But nighttime operation by stations of other classes of course
entails skywave interference to groundwave service, interference which
is substantial unless steps are taken to minimize it. _7._ With
respect to other frequencies, these are designated as regional or local,
and assigned for use by class /3, and class /4, stations, respectively,
stations operating generally with lower power. In the allocation
pattern worked out for these frequencies, the provision of long-range
service has to some extent been subordinated to the other two objectives-
assignment of multiple facilities, and assignment of stations
in as many communities as possible. _8._ As mentioned, the primary
allocation objective to be followed in the allocation of stations
on clear channels is the provision of widespread service, free from
destructive interference. During nighttime hours, because of the intense
skywave propagation then prevailing, no large number of stations can
be permitted to operate on one of these channels, if the wide area
service for which these frequencies are assigned is to be rendered satisfactorily
by the dominant stations which must be relied upon to render
it. Therefore, under our longstanding allocation rules, on some of
these channels no station other than the dominant (class /1,- ~A)
station is permitted to operate at night, so that the /1,- ~A
station can render service, interference free, wherever it can be received.
On the remainder of the clear channels, the dominant (class
/1,- ~B) stations are protected as described above, and the relatively
small number of secondary (class /2,) stations permitted to operate
on these channels at night are required to operate directionally
and/or with reduced power so as to protect the class /1, stations.
In the daytime, on the other hand, since skywave transmission is relatively
inefficient, it is possible to assign a substantially larger number
of stations on these channels. Additional class /2, assignments
for daytime operation can be made without causing destructive interference
to the class /1, stations or to each other, and by their operation
provide additional service on these channels and additional local
outlets for a large number of communities. Such additional daytime
class /2, assignments are appropriate if optimum use is to be made
of these frequencies, and the Commission has over the years made a large
number of them. Similarly, on the regional channels many class /3,
stations have been assigned either to operate daytime only or to operate
nighttime with directional antennas and/or lower power. _9._
Essentially, the question presented for decision in the present Daytime
Skywave proceeding is whether our decision [in 1938-1939] to
assign stations on the basis of daytime conditions from sunrise to sunset,
is sound as a basis for ~AM allocations, or whether, in the light
of later developments and new understanding, skywave transmission
is of such significance during the hours immediately before sunset and
after sunrise that this condition should be taken into account, and
some stations required to afford protection to other stations during these
hours.

#THE HISTORY OF THE PROCEEDING#

_10._ The decision

reached in 1938-39 was made after the accumulation of a large amount
of data and thorough study thereof. Since then, there has been a notable
increase in the number of stations and also the accumulation of additional
data and the development of new techniques for using it, leading
to a better understanding of propagation phenomena. In 1947, affidavits
were filed with the Commission by various clear-channel stations
alleging that extensive interference was being caused to the service
areas of these stations during daylight hours, from class /2, stations
whose signals were being reflected from the ionosphere so as to
create skywave intereference.
If you elect to use the Standard Deduction or the Tax Table, and
later find you should have itemized your deductions, you may do so by
filing an amended return within the time prescribed for filing a claim
for refund. See <You May Claim a Refund>, Page 135. The same
is true if you have itemized your deductions and later decide you should
have used the Standard Deduction or Tax Table. The words {amended
return} should be plainly written across the top of such return.
_WHEN AND WHERE TO FILE_ April 15 is usually the final date
for filing income tax returns for most people because they use the calendar
year ending on December 31. If you use a fiscal year, a year ending
on the last day of any month other than December, your return is
due on or before the 15th day of the 4th month after the close of your
tax year. _SATURDAY, SUNDAY, OR HOLIDAY._ If the last day (due
date) for performing {any} act for tax purposes, such as filing a
return or making a tax payment, etc&, falls on Saturday, Sunday,
or a legal holiday, you may perform that act on the next succeeding day
which is not a Saturday, Sunday, or legal holiday. Since April 15,
1962, is on Sunday your return for the calendar year 1961 will be
timely filed if it is filed on or before Monday, April 16, 1962.

{IF YOU MAIL A RETURN} or tax payment, you must place it

in the mails in ample time to reach the district director on or before
the due date. _DECLARATION OF ESTIMATED TAX._ If you were required
to file a declaration of estimated tax for the calendar year 1961,
it is not necessary to pay the fourth installment otherwise due on January
15, 1962, if you file your income tax return Form 1040, and pay
your tax in full for the calendar year 1961 by January 31, 1962. The
filing of an original or amended declaration, otherwise due on January
15, 1962, is also waived, if you file your Form 1040 for 1961 and
pay the full tax by January 31, 1962. Farmers, for these purposes,
have until February 15, 1962, to file Form 1040 and pay the tax in
full for the calendar year 1961. Fiscal year taxpayers have until the
last day of the first month following the close of the fiscal year (farmers
until the 15th day of the 2d month). See Chapter 38. {Nonresident
aliens living in Canada or Mexico} who earn wages in
the United States may be subject to withholding of tax on their wages,
the same as if they were citizens of the United States. Their
United States tax returns are due April 16, 1962. However, if their
United States income is not subject to the withholding of tax on wages,
their returns are due June 15, 1962, if they use a calendar year,
or the 15th day of the 6th month after the close of their fiscal year.
_NONRESIDENT ALIENS IN PUERTO RICO._ If you are a nonresident
alien and a resident of Puerto Rico, your return is also due June
15, 1962, or the 15th day of the 6th month after the close of your fiscal
year. {IF A TAXPAYER DIES,} the executor, administrator,
or legal representative must file the final return for the decedent
on or before the 15th day of the 4th month following the close of
the deceased taxpayer's normal tax year. Suppose John Jones, who,
for 1960, filed on the basis of a calendar year, died June 20, 1961.
His return for the period January 1 to June 20, 1961, is due April
16, 1962. The return for a decedent may also serve as a claim
for refund of an overpayment of tax. In such a case, Form 1310 should
be completed and attached to the return. This form may be obtained
from the local office of your district director. {RETURNS
OF ESTATES OR TRUSTS} are due on or before the 15th day of the
4th month after the close of the tax year. _EXTENSIONS OF TIME FOR
FILING._ Under unusual circumstances a resident individual may be
granted an extension of time to file a return. You may apply for such
an extension by filing Form 2688, <Application For Extension Of
Time To File>, with the District Director of Internal Revenue
for your district, or you may make your application in a letter. Your
application must include the following information: (1) your reasons
for requesting an extension, (2) whether you filed timely income tax
returns for the 3 preceding years, and (3) whether you were required
to file an estimated return for the year, and if so whether you did file
and have paid the estimated tax payments on or before the due dates.
Any failure to file timely returns or make estimated tax payments
when due must be fully explained. Extensions are not granted as a matter
of course, and the reasons for your request must be substantial. If
you are unable to sign the request, because of illness or other good
cause, another person who stands in close personal or business relationship
to you may sign the request on your behalf, stating the reason
why you are unable to sign. You should make any request for an extension
early so that if it is refused, your return may still be on time.
See also <Interest on Unpaid Taxes>, below. _EXTENSIONS WHILE
ABROAD._ Citizens of the United States who, on April 15, are not
in the United States or Puerto Rico, are allowed an extension of
time until June 15 for filing the return for the preceding calendar
year. An extension of 2 months beyond the regular due date for filing
is also available to taxpayers making returns for a fiscal year. _ALASKA
AND HAWAII._ Taxpayers residing or traveling in Alaska are also
allowed this extension of time for filing, but those residing or traveling
in Hawaii are {not} allowed this automatic extension.
{Military or Naval Personnel} on duty in Alaska or outside
the United States and Puerto Rico are also allowed this automatic
extension of time for filing their returns. {You must attach
a statement} to your return, if you take advantage of this automatic
extension, showing that you were in Alaska or were outside the United
States or Puerto Rico on April 15 or other due date. _INTEREST
ON UNPAID TAXES._ Interest at the rate of 6% a year must be paid
on taxes that are not paid on or before their due date. Such interest
must be paid even though an {extension of time for filing} is granted.
_WHEN PAYMENT IS DUE._ If your computation on Form 1040 or
Form 1040~A shows you owe additional tax, it should be remitted
with your return unless you owe less than $1, in which case it is forgiven.
If payment is by cash, you should ask for a receipt. If you file
Form 1040~A and the District Director computes your tax, you
will be sent a bill if additional tax is due. This bill should be paid
within 30 days. _PAYMENT BY CHECK OR MONEY ORDER._ Whether the
check is certified or uncertified, the tax is not paid until the check
is paid. If the check is not good and the April 15 or other due date
deadline elapses, additions to the tax may be incurred. Furthermore,
a bad check may subject the maker to certain penalties. All checks
and money orders should be made payable to <Internal Revenue Service>.
_REFUNDS._ An overpayment of income and social security taxes
entitles you to a refund unless you indicate on the return that the
overpayment should be applied to your succeeding year's estimated
tax. {If you file Form 1040~A} and the District Director
computes your tax, any refund to which you are entitled will be
mailed to you. {If you file a Form 1040,} you should indicate
in the place provided that there is an overpayment of tax and the
amount you want refunded and the amount you want credited against your
estimated tax. {Refunds of less than $1} will not be made
unless you attach a separate application to your return requesting such
a refund. _WHERE TO FILE._ Send your return to the Director
of Internal Revenue for the district in which you have your legal residence
or principal place of business. If you have neither a legal residence
nor a principal place of business in any internal revenue district,
your return should be filed with the District Director of Internal
Revenue, Baltimore 2, Md&. If your principal place of abode
for the tax year is outside the United States (including Alaska
and Hawaii), Puerto Rico, or the Virgin Islands and you have no legal
residence or principal place of business in any internal revenue
district in the United States, you should file your return with the
Office of International Operations, Internal Revenue Service, Washington
25, D&C&. _ADJUSTED GROSS INCOME_ The deductions
allowed in determining Adjusted Gross Income put all taxpayers on
a comparable basis. It is the amount you enter on line 9, page 1 of Form
1040. Some deductions are subtracted from Gross Income to determine
Adjusted Gross Income. Other deductions are subtracted only
from Adjusted Gross Income in arriving at Taxable Income.
{TO COMPUTE YOUR ADJUSTED GROSS INCOME} you total all items
of income. (See Chapter 6.) From this amount deduct the items indicated
below. {Businessmen} deduct all ordinary and necessary
expenses attributable to a trade or business. _RENTS OR ROYALTIES._
If you hold property for the production of rents or royalties you
subtract, in computing Adjusted Gross Income, ordinary and necessary
expenses and certain other deductions attributable to the property.
(See Chapter 15.) {Outside salesmen} deduct all expenses
attributable to earning a salary, commission, or other compensation.
(See Chapter 10.) {Employees} deduct expenses of travel,
meals and lodging while away from home in connection with the performance
of their services as employees. They also deduct transportation
expenses incurred in connection with the performance of services as employees
even though they are not away from home. (See Chapter 12.)
If your employer reimburses you for expenses incurred, you deduct such
expenses if they otherwise qualify. (See Chapter 10.) {Sick
pay,} if included in your Gross Income, is deducted in arriving
at Adjusted Gross Income. If your sick pay is not included in your
Gross Income, you may not deduct it. (See Chapter 9.) _INCOME
FROM ESTATES AND TRUSTS._ If you are a life tenant, you deduct allowable
depreciation and depletion. If you are an income beneficiary of
property held in trust or an heir, legatee, or devisee, you may deduct
allowable depreciation and depletion, if not deductible by the estate
or trust. {Deductible losses on sales or exchanges} of
property are allowable in determining your Adjusted Gross Income. (See
Chapter 20.) _50% OF CAPITAL GAINS._ You also deduct 50%
of the excess of net long-term capital gains over net short-term capital
losses in determining Adjusted Gross Income. (See Chapter 24.)
_OTHER DEDUCTIONS._ Certain other deductions are not allowed in
determining Adjusted Gross Income. They may be claimed only by itemizing
them on page 2 of Form 1040. These deductions may not be claimed
if you elect to use the Standard Deduction or tax Table. (See
Chapters 30 through 37.)

#2. MINORS MINORS MUST ALSO FILE RETURNS

IF THEY EARN $600 OR MORE DURING THE YEAR.#

A MINOR IS subject
to tax on his own earnings even though his parent may, under local
law, have the right to them and might actually have received the money.
His income is not required to be included in the return of his parent.

{A MINOR CHILD IS ALLOWED A PERSONAL EXEMPTION}

of $600 on his own return regardless of how much money he may earn. _EXEMPTION
ALSO ALLOWED PARENT._ If your child is under 19 or is a
student you may also claim an exemption for him if he qualifies as your
dependent, even though he earns $600 or more. See Chapter 5. _EXAMPLE._
Your 16 year old son earned $720 in 1961. You spent $800 for
his support. Since he had gross income of $600 or more, he must file
a return in which he may claim an exemption deduction of $600. Since
you contributed more than half of his support, you may also claim an
exemption for him on your return. _HE MAY GET A TAX REFUND._ A
minor who has gross income of less than $600 is entitled to a refund if
income tax was withheld from his wages. Generally, the refund may be
obtained by filing Form 1040~A accompanied by the withholding statement
(Form ~W-2). If he had income other than wages subject to
withholding, he may be required to file Form 1040. See Chapter 1.

{IF YOUR CHILD WORKS FOR YOU,} you may deduct reasonable
wages you paid to him for services he rendered in your business.
You may deduct these payments even though your child uses the money to
purchase his own clothing or other necessities which you are normally
obligated to furnish him, and even though you may be entitled to his
services.
The one- or two-season hunt, of which there have been too many recently,
may do more harm than good; for such programs raise hopes of assistance
toward achieving excellence in scholarship and the arts which
are dashed when the programs are discontinued; and they are dashed,
no less, by lack of skill in making selections of men and women for development
toward the highest reaches of the mind and spirit. For
the making of selections on the basis of excellence requires that any
foundation making the selections shall have available the judgments
of a corps of advisors whose judgments are known to be good: such judgments
can be known to be good only by the records of those selected,
by records made subsequent to their selection over considerable periods
of time. The central group of the Foundation's advisors
are, at any one period of time, the members of our Advisory Board,
consisting, now, of thirty-six men and women. They are chosen by the
Foundation's Board of Trustees on the bases of their own first-rate
accomplishments in their different fields of scholarship and the arts.
Their locations in all parts of the United States, and their locations
in the several kinds of educational and research institutions
that are the principal homes of our intellectual and artistic strengths
also are factors in the Trustees' minds. For this concept of an
Advisory Board, ancillary to the Board of Trustees, we are indebted
to the late President of Harvard University, A& Lawrence Lowell,
a master of the subject of the structure of cultural institutions
and their administration. That we had the wit and wisdom to adopt Mr&
Lowell's concept and make it the base for our processes of selection
is one reason why our selections have been, it may be said truly,
pretty uniformly good. For in accordance with Mr& Lowell's
concept of an advisory board, our selections are made by experienced
selectors who give both constancy and consistency to our processes
and our choices. And lest we should become too consistent, in the
sense of becoming heedless of new fields of scholarship and new points
of view in the arts, the Foundation's Board of Trustees maintains
a trickle- not a flow!- of new members through the Advisory Board.

Two committees of members of the Advisory Board constitute

the committees of selection- one for the selection of Fellows
from Canada, the United States, and the English-speaking Caribbean
area and one for the selection of Fellows from the Latin American
republics and the Republic of the Philippines. To the members
of our Advisory Board, and most specially to its members who constitute
our committees of selection, the Foundation is indebted for its
successes of choice of Fellows. We are, as we know, utterly dependent
on the quality of advice we get; and quality of advice, added to
devotion to the Foundation's purposes and ideals, we do get from
our Advisory Board in measures so full that they can be appreciated
only by those of us who work here every day. But the facts about
our Advisory Board and its members' duties are only one of several
sets of facts about the quest for advice, both reliable and imaginative,
on which to base our selections of Fellows. For example, the
interest of past members of the Foundation's Advisory Board remains
such that they place their knowledge and judgments at our disposal
much as they had done when they were, formally, members of that Board.
And, besides, there are a large number of scholars, artists, composers
of music, novelists, poets, essayists, choreographers, lawyers, servants
of government, and men of affairs- hundreds, indeed- who serve
the Foundation well with the advice they give us freely and gratis
out of their experience. To all, the Foundation gives the kind
of thanks which are more than thanks: to them we are grateful beyond
the possibility of conveying in words how grateful we are. #@#

IT IS a truism of business that no business can be better than

its board of directors and its top management. The same is true of
every foundation. During the biennium reviewed in this Report, our
Board of Trustees named able men, younger than the rest of us, to the
Board and to top management to insure future continuance of the first-class
administration of the Foundation's affairs: Dr&
James Brown Fisk, physicist, President of the Bell Telephone Laboratories,
was elected to the Board of Trustees. He is a member
both of the National Academy of Sciences and of the American Philosophical
Society; and he has served our country well as a scientific
statesman on international commissions. Dr& Gordon N&
Ray, Provost, Vice-President and Professor of English in the University
of Illinois, was appointed Associate Secretary General.
The Trustees of the Foundation appointed Dr& Ray to that position
with the stated expectation that he would succeed the present Secretary
General upon the latter's eventual retirement. Dr& Ray is
a Fellow of the Foundation- appointed thrice to assist his studies
of William Makepeace Thackeray and of H& G& Wells- and,
before his appointment to the Foundation's executive staff, had been
given our highest scholarly accolade, appointment to the Advisory Board.

Referring further to the Foundation's officers, Dr&

James F& Mathias, for eleven years our discerning colleague as
Associate Secretary, was promoted to be Secretary. He is a historian,
with the great merit of a historian's long view. Also appointed
to the Foundation's staff, as Assistant Secretary, is Mr&
J& Kellum Smith, Jr&. Mr& Smith, like the present Secretary
General, is a lawyer; and lawyers- with the great virtues
that they are trained to read "the fine print" carefully and are
able out of professional experience to arrive at imaginative solutions
to difficult problems in many fields- are indispensable even in a foundation
office. The present Secretary General has been the
Foundation's principal administrative officer continuously since the
Foundation's establishment thirty-five years ago. But even he will
not last indefinitely and the above-noted new arrangements are, quite
simply, made to assure qualitative continuity in the Foundation's
policies and practices. The effective recognition of excellence and
its nurture has to be learned and is not learned in a day, nor even
in a year. #@#

WE ARE not given to lamentations, neither personally

nor in these Reports. On the contrary, if this be an apocalyptic
era as is commonly said, we see it as an era of opportunity. For,
granting that there are great present-day problems to be solved, these
problems make great demands; and by their demanding tend to create
resources of men's minds and hearts which problems with easy answers
do not bring forth. Of this, examples are legion: Pericles speaking
his funeral oration in Ancient Greece's extremity after Thermopylae
and making it a testament of freedom; Jefferson writing the
Declaration of Independence amid the catastrophes of revolution;
Christ preaching the Sermon on the Mount, close to his ultimate sacrifice;
Shakespeare speaking with "the indescribable gusto of the
Elizabethan voice"- Keats's words- in the days of the Spanish
Armada's threats; Isaac Newton, at the age of twenty-three,
industriously calculating logarithms "to two and fifty places" during
the great plague year in England, 1665; Winston Churchill's
Olympian, optimistic and resolute sayings when Britain stood alone
against the armed forces of tyranny less than twenty years ago; the
present-day explorations of outer space, answering age-old questions
of science and philosophy, in the face of possible wars of extinction.

<Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit>, as the Roman poet,

Virgil, declared with much more historical sense than most writers
of today. It gives, indeed, cause for rejoicing to remember what many
catastrophes of the past produced; and it is to be noted also that
confidence should grow from remembering that great men often appeared
in the past to turn local catastrophe into future good for all mankind.

For example, out of the social evils of the English industrial

revolution came the novels of Charles Dickens; and his genius
moved his readers to seek solutions of those evils for all Western men-
until today-, in the industrialized West, these social evils
substantially do not exist. The solutions were not arrived at by any
theoreticians of the Karl Marx stripe but by men of government- lawyers,
most of them- and men of business. These were educated men,
who, as Mr& Justice Holmes was fond of saying, formed their inductions
out of experience under the burden of responsibility. That is,
to put it realistically, they had to run their businesses at a profit,
or they had to get the votes to get elected. Nevertheless, they made
naught of Marx's prophecy that capitalism would never pay the "workers"-
to use Marx's word- more than a subsistence wage, with
the consequence that increased productivity must inevitably find its
way into the capitalists' pockets with the result, in turn, that the
gap between the rich and the poor would irrevocably widen and the misery
of the poor increase. But as all understand who have eyes
to see, nothing of the kind has happened; indeed, the contrary has
happened. The gulf between the "rich" and the "poor" has narrowed,
in the industrialized Western world, to the point that the word
"poor" is hardly applicable. And the reason this could happen is
clear: men of government, business men, lawyers and all who concerned
themselves with the welfare of their fellow men did not let their
concern to run their businesses at a profit restrict the development of
freedom and opportunity. Some would say that they were not permitted
to run their businesses only for profit; and even putting it that
way would not prove that Marx was anything but wrong. Sir Henry
Sumner Maine, a hundred years before Communism was a force to be
reckoned with, wrote his brilliant legal generalization, that "the
progress of society is from status to contract". The essence of contract
is that one is free to make a choice of what one will or will not
do. Hence, the condition of freedom is a necessary condition for choice.
The greater the range of freedom for individual men, the greater
the range of choice; the greater the range of choice, the greater
the rate of change. For change is dependent on the possibilities that
individual men glimpse for the future. But when there is not freedom
and opportunity to choose, men- individual men- must remain in status
and society does not, cannot progress. The eternal truth
is that progress- due, as it always is, to individual creative genius-
is just as dependent on freedom as human life is dependent on the
beating of the heart. And lest anybody think that considerations
such as these are not germane in a foundation report, let me enlighten
them with the truths that, under Communism there would have been
no capital with which to endow the Foundation, and that there would
not be that individual freedom within which the Fellows might proceed,
untrammeled in every way, toward their discoveries, their creative
efforts for the good of mankind. #@#

DURING the year 1959,

we granted 354 Fellowships; in 1960, we granted 334. As heretofore,
our Fellowships are available to assist research in all fields of
knowledge and creative effort in all the arts. We do not favor one field
over another: we think that all inquiry, all scholarly and artistic
creation, is good- provided only that it contributes to a sense
and understanding of the true ends of life, as all first-rate scholarship
and artistic creation does. Indeed, if pressed, we would say what
the late Robert Henri, American painter, said to a pupil, "Anything
will do for a subject: it's what <you> do with it that counts".

Thus, we have no part, and want none, in current discussions

of the relative importance of science, the social studies, the humanities,
the creative arts. We want no part in such discussions, because
we think them largely futile; and we think them largely futile because,
for true excellence of accomplishment, every scholar and every
artist must cross boundaries of knowledge and boundaries of points of
view.

When the Brown + Sharpe Manufacturing Company reached its

125th year as a going industrial concern during 1958, it became an almost
unique institution in the mechanical world. With its history
standing astride all but the very beginnings of the industrial revolution,
Brown + Sharpe has become over the years a singular monument
to the mechanical foresight of its founder, Joseph R& Brown, and
a world-renowned synonym for precision and progress in metalworking technology.

Joseph R& Brown grew up in the bustle and enterprise

of New England between 1810 and 1830. He was early exposed to
the mechanical world, and in his youth often helped his father, David
Brown, master clock and watchmaker, as he plied his trade. At the
age of 17 he became an apprentice machinist at the shop of Walcott +
Harris in Valley Falls, Rhode Island, and following two or three
other jobs in quick succession after graduation, he went into business
for himself in 1831, making lathes and small tools. This enterprise
led to a father-and-son combination beginning in 1833, under the name
D& Brown + Son, a business which eventually grew into the modern
corporation we now call Brown + Sharpe. The years of Joseph's
partnership with his father were numbered. In 1838, a devastating
fire gutted their small shop and soon thereafter David Brown moved
west to Illinois, settling on a land grant in his declining years.

Joseph Brown continued in business by himself, quickly rebuilding

the establishment which had been lost in the fire and beginning those
first steps which were to establish him as a pioneer in raising the
standards of accuracy of machine shop practice throughout the world.

Much of his genius, of course, sprang from his familiarity with

clock movements. During these early years the repair of watches and
clocks and the building of special clocks for church steeples formed
an important part of the young man's occupation. He became particularly
interested in graduating and precision measurement during the 1840's,
and his thinking along these lines developed considerably during
this period. But his business also grew, and we are told that Mr&
Brown found it
increasingly difficult to devote as much time to his
creative thinking as his inclinations led him to desire. It must have
been with some pleasure and relief that on September 12, 1848, Joseph
Brown made the momentous entry in his job book, in his characteristically
cryptic style, "Lucian Sharpe came to work for me this day
as an apprentice". The young apprentice apparently did well
by Mr& Brown, for in the third year of his apprenticeship Lucian
was offered a full partnership in the firm; the company became "J&
R& Brown + Sharpe", and entered into a new and important
period of its development. Mr& Sharpe's arrival in the business
did indeed provide what Mr& Brown had most coveted- time for "tinkering",
and the opportunity of carrying out in the back room those
developments in precision graduation which most interested him at that
time. By 1853, the new partnership announced the precision
vernier caliper as the first fruit of their joint efforts. The basic
significance of this invention helped them to follow it rapidly in 1855
by the development of a unique precision gear cutting and dividing
engine. That development, in turn, formed the foundation of still more
significant expansions in later years- in gear cutting, in circular
graduating, in index drilling, and in many other fields where accuracy
was a paramount requirement. Throughout their careers, both
Mr& Brown and Mr& Sharpe were interested in the problem of setting
up standards of measurement for the mechanical trades. Several
efforts were made in this direction, and though not all of them survive
to this day, the Brown + Sharpe wire gage system was eventually adopted
as the American standard and is still in common use today.

As one development followed another, the company's reputation for

precision in the graduating field brought it broader and broader opportunities
for expansion in precision manufacture. In 1858, the partnership
began manufacturing the Willcox + Gibbs sewing machine.

As the story goes, Mr& Gibbs, who originally came from the back
counties of the Commonwealth of Virginia, saw an illustration in a
magazine of the famous Howe sewing machine. Curious as to what made
it work, he built a crude model of it in wood, and filed a piece of steel
until he succeeded in making a metal pickup for the thread, enabling
the crude machine to take stitches. When he showed this model as his
"solution" as to how the Howe sewing machine operated, he was
told he was "wrong", and discovered to his amazement that the Howe
Machine, which was unknown to him in detail, used two threads while
the one that he had perfected used only one. Thus was invented the
single thread sewing machine, which Mr& Gibbs in partnership with
Mr& Willcox decided to bring to Brown + Sharpe with the proposal
that the small company undertake its manufacture. The new work
was a boon to the partnership, not only for its own value but particularly
for the stimulation it provided to the imagination of J& R&
Brown toward yet further developments for production equipment.

The turret screw machine, now known as the Brown + Sharpe hand
screw machine, takes its ancestry directly from Mr& Brown's efforts
to introduce equipment to simplify the manufacture of the sewing
machine. Mr& Brown made important additions to the arts in screw machine
design by drastically improving the means for revolving the turret,
by introducing automatic feeding devices for the stock, and reversible
tap and die holders. In 1861, Mr& Brown's attention
was called to yet another basic production problem- the manufacture
of twist drills. At that time, during the Civil War, Union muskets
were being manufactured in Providence and the drills to drill them
were being hand-filed with rattail files. This process neither satisfied
the urgent production schedules nor Mr& Brown's imagination
of the possibilities in the situation. The child of this problem was
Mr& Brown's famous Serial No& 1 Universal Milling Machine,
the archtype from which is descended today's universal knee-type
milling machine used throughout the world. The original machine, bearing
its famous serial number, is still on exhibition at the Brown + Sharpe
Precision Center in Providence. During the Civil War
period Mr& Brown also invented the Brown + Sharpe formed tooth
gear cutter, a basic invention which ultimately revolutionized the world's
gear manufacturing industry by changing its basic economics.
Up until that time it had been possible to make cutters for making gear
teeth, but they were good for only one sharpening. As soon as the
time came for re-sharpening, the precise form of the gear tooth was lost
and a new cutter had to be made. This process made the economical
manufacture of gears questionable until some way could be found to permit
the repeated re-sharpening of gear tooth cutters without the loss
of the precision form. Mr& Brown's invention achieved this and,
as a byproduct, formed the cornerstone of Brown + Sharpe's position
of leadership in the gear making equipment field which lasted until
the 1920's when superceded by other methods. The micrometer
caliper, as a common workshop tool, also owes much to J& R& Brown.
Although Mr& Brown was not himself its inventor (it was a French
idea), it is typical that his intuition first conceived the importance
of mass producing this basic tool for general use. So it was
that when Mr& Brown and Mr& Sharpe first saw the French tool
on exhibition in Paris in 1868, they brought a sample with them to the
United States and started Brown + Sharpe in yet another field where
it retains its leadership to this day. The final achievement
of Mr& Brown's long and interesting mechanical career runs a
close second in importance to his development of the universal milling
machine. That achievement was his creation of the universal grinding
machine, which made its appearance in 1876 at the Philadelphia Centennial
Exposition. This machine, like its milling counterpart, was
the antecedent of a machine-family used to this very day in precision
metalworking shops throughout the world. Along with J& R& Brown's
other major developments, the universal grinding machine was profoundly
influential in setting the course of Brown + Sharpe for many
years to come. Following Mr& Brown's death, there came
forward in the Brown + Sharpe organization many other men who contributed
greatly to the development of the company. One such man was Samuel
Darling. As head of the firm Darling + Swartz, Mr&
Darling began by challenging Brown + Sharpe to its keenest competition
during the 1850's and early 60's. In 1868, however, a truce
was called between the companies, and the partnership of Darling, brown
+ Sharpe was formed. Between that year and the buying out of Mr&
Darling's interest in 1892, a large portion of the company's precision
tool business was carried out under the name of Darling, Brown
+ Sharpe, and to this day many old precision tools are in use still
bearing that famous trademark. Perhaps the outstanding standard
bearer of Mr& Brown's tradition for accuracy was Mr& Oscar
J& Beale, whose mechanical genius closely paralleled that of
Mr& Brown, and whose particular forte was the development of the exceedingly
accurate measuring machinery that enabled Brown + Sharpe
to manufacture gages, and therefore its products, with an accuracy exceeding
anything then available elsewhere in the world. Also important
on the Brown + Sharpe scene, at the turn of the century, was
Mr& Richmond Viall, Works Superintendent of the company from
1876 to 1910. Mr& Viall possessed remarkable talents for the leadership
and development of men. He was an ardent champion of the Brown
+ Sharpe Apprentice Program and personal counselor to countless able
men who first developed their industrial talents with the company.
In one sense it can be said that one of the most important Brown + Sharpe
products over the years has been the men who began work with the
company and subsequently came to places of industrial eminence throughout
the nation and even abroad. Commencing with the death of
Lucian Sharpe in 1899, the name of Henry D& Sharpe was for more
than 50 years closely interwoven with the destiny of the company. During
his presidency, the company's physical plant was enormously expanded,
and the length and breadth of the Brown + Sharpe machine tool
line became the greatest in the world. During the early part of this
century, the Brown + Sharpe works in Providence were unchallenged
as the largest single manufacturing facility devoted exclusively to
precision machinery and tool manufacture anywhere in the world.
During these years the company's product line followed the basic tenets
laid down by Mr& Brown. It expanded from hand screw machines
to automatic screw machines, from simple formed-tooth gear cutting machines
to gear hobbing machines and a large contract gear manufacturing
business, from rudimentary belt-driven universal milling machines to
a broad line of elaborately controlled knee-type and manufacturing type
milling machines. In the grinding machine field, expansion went far
from universal grinders alone and took in cylindrical grinders, surface
grinders, and a wide variety of special and semi-special models.

In 1951, Henry D& Sharpe, Jr& succeeded his father and

continued
the company's development as a major factor in the metal-working
equipment business. The company is still broadening its line and
is now active on four major fronts. The Machine Tool Division
is currently producing Brown + Sharpe single spindle automatic screw
machines, grinding machines of many types, and knee and bed-type
milling machines. Recently added is the Brown + Sharpe turret drilling
machine which introduces the company to an entirely new field of tool
development. In the Industrial Products Division, the company
manufactures and markets a wide line of precision gaging and inspection
equipment, machinists' tools- including micrometers, Vernier
calipers, and accessories. In the Cutting Tool Division,
the principal products include a wide variety of high speed steel milling
cutters, end mills and saws.
Sales and net income for the year ended December 31, 1960 showed an
improvement over 1959. Net income was $2,557,111, or $3.11 per share
on 821,220 common shares currently outstanding, as compared to $2,323,867
or $2.82 per share in 1959, adjusted to the same number of shares.

Sales and other operating income increased 25.1% from $24,926,615

in 1959 to $31,179,816 in 1960. This increase was sufficient to
overcome the effect on net income of higher costs of manufacture and
increased expenditures on research and development. In spite
of the fact that our largest market, the textile industry, was affected
substantially by the current decline in business activity, we have
been able to produce and deliver our machines throughout the year 1960
at a rate materially higher than during 1959.

#OUTLOOK FOR CURRENT

YEAR#

Our current rate of incoming orders has now contracted and

unless this trend can be reversed, our production for 1961 will be lower
than for 1960. However, the healthy inventory position of
the textile industry lends support to the broadly expressed belief that
improvement in that industry can be expected by the second half of 1961.

#NEED FOR SOUND TAX POLICY#

In connection with our continuing

development of new and more efficient mill machinery, a sounder U&
S& income tax policy on depreciation of production equipment, enabling
the mills to charge off the cost of new machines on a more realistic
basis, could, if adopted, have favorable effects on Leesona's
business in the next few years. Such a depreciation policy would
also, we believe, prove a very important factor in strengthening the
competitive position of the U& S& textile and other industries,
thus helping to strengthen the position of the dollar in foreign exchange.

#RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT#

Our research and development program,

serving as it does an industry which must compete against low-cost
production throughout the world, continues to have primary emphasis
at Leesona. This program is based on the policy of designing
and building efficient machines which will help produce better textile
values- fabrics whose cost in relation to quality, fashion and utility
provide the consumer with better textile products for the money.

Such policy involves continuing effort to improve on existing

mill equipment, in terms of efficiency and versatility. But more important,
we believe, it must concentrate on the development of entirely
new concepts in textile processing as do the Unifil loom winder and
our more recent Uniconer automatic coning machine.

#BUDGET INCREASED#

On this basis, our already substantial budget for research and

development has been further increased in recent years in order to finance
the continuing engineering and design work essential to Leesona's
future growth in sales and earnings. Much of this necessary
increase in research and development, though properly chargeable to
current expenses, is not reflected in earnings until projects are completed
and the new machines sold in quantity, usually over a period of
several years.

#STRETCH YARN MACHINES#

In December we began to
ship our ultra-high-speed stretch yarn machines. These machines produce
the higher quality stretch yarns required in weaving stretch and textured
fabrics. During the past year, great progress has been made by
the weaving mills in creating new stretch and textured fabrics. Fashion
centers are now predicting broad acceptance of sports apparel and
improved "wash and wear" dresses and blouses made from these fabrics.

This machine, operating at speeds up to 350,000 revolutions

per minute, is believed to provide one of the fastest mechanical operations
in industry today. It transfers yarn directly from the producers'
largest package into ideal supply packages for use on Unifil loom
winders in weaving stretch yarn fabrics.

#LARGE-PACKAGE TWISTER#

Our new large-package ring twister for glass fiber yarns is performing
well in our customers' mills. Later in the year, additional types
of this Leesona twister will be made available to mills for other
man-made fibers and natural yarns. These machines are designed to provide
higher operating speeds, larger yarn packages, and greater flexibility
of application to different types of yarn. This we believe will
substantially broaden the potential market for the equipment.
#UNICONER#

Major activity at Providence in 1961 will involve the scheduled

completion of tooling for production of the Uniconer automatic
coning machine. This work is progressing on schedule and we expect to
make initial shipments in the fourth quarter of this year. This machine
was demonstrated in two textile machinery exhibitions last year and
was well received by the industry. The potential market for the machine
should be comparable to that of the Unifil loom winder. The
Uniconer has several outstanding features- it operates with much
greater efficiency than existing equipment; it incorporates an automatic
knot-tying device on each spindle, and it will knot a break in
the yarn in 10 seconds as well as tie in new bobbins as the running end
is exhausted. Because the bobin-to-cone winding process is a
relatively high-cost operation for the mill, the almost complete automation
provided by the Uniconer can mean important economies in textile
production, at the same time upgrading quality. Many mills have already
placed firm orders for this machine.

#NEW UNIFIL APPLICATION#

A new application for the Unifil loom winder, running single filling
for box looms, will broaden mill use of this equipment.

#TAKE-UP
MACHINES#

A new spinning take-up machine has been developed to facilitate

the use of our take-up machine in the production of thermoplastic
yarns. It is equipped with electronic controls that can be set to
hold precise tension and speed. This new machine takes up filament
yarn from spinneret or extruder and winds large packages at speeds
up to 6,000 feet per minute. It is equipped with an automatic threading
device to reduce waste and handling time. Our take-up machines
and our twister-coners are undergoing important pilot plant testing
for application with new high polymer yarns, in several fiber producing
plants. We look forward to a stronger position in this expanding
field.

#DIVERSIFICATION PLANS#

We are interested in further diversification

into other fields of capital goods, or components for industrial
products, and have recently intensified our efforts in that direction.

#PATTERSON MOOS RESEARCH#

Our Patterson Moos Research

Division has made further very encouraging progress in development of
fuel cells. The cooperation of our exclusive American licensee, Pratt
+ Whitney Aircraft Division of United Aircraft Corporation,
has been important in this work. In addition to its major effort on fuel
cells, Patterson Moos Research Division is continuing to carry
on research in other fields, both under contract for the Defense Department,
other government agencies and for our own account. ~PMR
is currently supplying components vital to the Titan and Minuteman
programs. We have recently entered into an agreement with Compagnie
Generale de Telegraphie Sans Fil (~CSF) of France for
the exclusive exchange of technical information on thermoelectric materials.
The agreement gives us rights for manufacturing and marketing
of such materials in the United States. Initially we will import the
thermoelectric materials and modules from France but later we will
manufacture in this country. There is a rapidly growing demand for this
material, primarily from the military. Further research, we believe,
will develop important commercial applications. A project for
the Air Force has been completed in which the ~NAIR infrared
detecting device was developed for area monitoring of noxious or dangerous
gases. We are initiating research on the use of solid state
materials for infrared detection using a method which will not require
cooling of materials to attain high sensitivity. The rapid
advance in science today suggests many other avenues of investigation.
Our plan is to keep abreast of these advances, and select for development
those fields which seem most promising for our special capabilities.

#NEW PLANT FACILITIES#

Early in August we broke ground

for a new $3,500,000 plant in Warwick, Rhode Island, which will house
our textile and coil winding machinery operations. Construction is
well along, and the plant is scheduled for completion in November of
this year. All operations now carried on at our plant at Cranston will
be transferred to Warwick. Operations in the new plant should be
producing efficiently early in 1962. An architect's sketch
of the new plant is shown on the front cover. The building will contain
430,000 square feet, approximately the same as our present plant. However,
its modern one-story layout is designed to increase our production
capacity, permit more efficient manufacturing, and substantially
reduce current repair and maintenance costs. A major consideration
in the choice of the Warwick site, four miles from Cranston, was
the fact that it permits retention of our present trained and highly
skilled work force. We have entered into an agreement for the
sale of the present Cranston properties, effective as soon as we have
completed removal to our new plant.

#BRITISH SUBSIDIARY#

During
the year our British subsidiary, Leesona-Holt, Limited, expanded
its plant in Darwen, England, and added machine tool capacity. The
operations of its other plant in Rochdale and Leesona's former operations
in Manchester were transferred to a recently acquired plant
in the adjoining town of Heywood. Layout and equipment were modernized
and improved to obtain increased production on an efficient basis.
The area available at Heywood is approximately three times the size
of the former Rochdale and Manchester locations. In addition, land
has been purchased to permit doubling the size of the plant in the future.

#FINANCIAL DEVELOPMENTS#

The new Warwick plant is being built

at our expense and under our direction. It will be transfered on
completion to The Industrial Foundation of Rhode Island, a non-profit
organization, which will reimburse us for the cost of construction.
we will then occupy the new plant under lease, with an option to purchase.
These arrangements are, in our opinion, very favorable to Leesona.
Interim financing of construction costs is provided by a short
term loan from The Chase Manhattan Bank. In addition to expenditures
on the Warwick plant, we have invested approximately $1,961,000
for machinery and equipment at Cranston, and for new machinery,
plant and equipment at Leesona-Holt, Limited. We believe that these
improved facilities will contribute income and effect savings which
will fully justify the investment. Long term loans have been
reduced by $395,000 to $2,461,000. Inventories increased $625,561 to
$8,313,514 during the year and should decline in coming months. Thus
we enter 1961 in a strong financial position.

#EMPLOYEE CONTRACTS#

In accordance with the two-year contract signed in May, 1959, with

the International Association of Machinists, ~AFL-CIO, wages
of hourly employees were increased by 4% in May, 1960, and pay levels
for non-exempt salaried employees were increased proportionately.
In addition, Blue Cross coverage for all employees and their dependents
was extended to provide the full cost of semi-private hospital
accommodations.

#PERSONNEL BENEFITS#

In addition to direct salaries

and wages, the Company paid or accrued during the year the following
amounts for the benefit of employees: @ During the pension
year ended December 31, 1960, 23 employees retired, making a total
of 171 currently retired under the Company's pension plan. At
December 13, 1960 the fund held by the Industrial National Bank of
Providence, as trustee for payment of past and future service pensions
to qualified members of the plan, totaled $2,412,616.

The basic market for textiles is growing with the expansion of

the population that began 20 years ago. Another growth factor is increased
consumer demand for better quality and larger quantities of fabrics
that go with a rising standard of living. As in many other
industries, rising costs and intense competition, both domestic and
foreign, have exerted increasing pressure on earnings of the textile industry
in recent years.

#INCREASED EFFICIENCY#

In textiles, as elsewhere,
a major part of the solution lies in greater efficiency and
higher productivity. As a designer and manufacturer of textile
production machinery, Leesona and other companies in its industry have
sought to meet this challenge with new or improved equipment and methods
that would increase production, yet maintain both quality and flexibility.

#PROBLEMS OF SHIFTING STYLES#

The problem of efficient

production in textiles is complicated by the fact that the industry serves
large markets which shift quickly with changes of fashion in apparel
or home decoration. Production must be adjusted accordingly, at
minimum cost and quickly. In addition, production machinery must
in many cases be designed to handle with equal efficiency both natural
fibers and the increasing number of synthetics, as well as blends.
Following the term of service in Japan, each emissary returns for a
brief visit to the campus to interpret his experience to the college
community. The Carleton Service Fund provides the financial support
for this program.
#MUSICAL ACTIVITIES#

THE COLLEGE was one

of the first to recognize the importance of music not only as a definite
part of the curriculum but as a vital adjunct to campus life. Extensive
facilities for group performance are provided by maintaining, under
skilled direction, the Choir, the Orchestra, the Band, the Glee
Club, and smaller ensembles of wind and string players. All
students are invited to participate in any of the musical organizations
for which they qualify. Orchestra, Band, and Choir have auditions
during the week preceding the first day of classes. The Glee Club
is open to all students and faculty with no auditions necessary for
membership. In addition to the many appearances of these organizations
throughout the college year, there are concerts by students of
the music department, by members of the music faculty, and by visiting
artists. Student musical organizations are the Knights of
Carleton and the Overtones (men's vocal groups), and the Keynotes
(a women's singing group). These student-directed organizations include
eight to ten members each; they perform at many campus social
events.

#RELIGIOUS ACTIVITIES#

FROM THE FOUNDING of the College

those responsible for its management have planned to provide its
students favorable conditions for personal religious development and to
offer opportunities through the curriculum and otherwise for understanding
the meaning and importance of religion. Courses are offered in
ethics, the philosophy and history of religion, Christian thought and
history, and the Bible. Carleton aims throughout its entire teaching
program to represent a point of view and a spirit which will contribute
to the moral and religious development of its students. A
COLLEGE SERVICE OF WORSHIP is held each Sunday morning at eleven
o'clock in the Chapel. The sermons are given by the College Chaplain,
by members of the faculty, or by guest preachers. Music is furnished
by the Carleton College Choir. CHAPEL SERVICES
are held weekly. These services at which attendance is voluntary are
led by the Chaplain, by the President of the College, by selected
faculty members, students, and visitors. The service is brief and variety
in forms of worship is practiced. A SUNDAY EVENING PROGRAM
provides theological lectures, music, drama, and films related
to the issues of the Judeo-Christian tradition. ATTENDANCE
is required at the College Service of Worship <or> at the Sunday
Evening Program <or> at any regularly organized service of public
worship. Each semester every student must attend ten of the services
or religious meetings. Attendance at the Chapel Service is voluntary.

RELIGIOUS ORGANIZATIONS include the groups described

below. The Y&M&C&A& and Y&W&C&A& at Carleton
are connected with the corresponding national organizations and carry
out their general purposes. Occasional meetings are held for the
whole membership, usually with a guest speaker, while smaller discussion
groups meet more frequently. The Associations sponsor many traditional
campus events and provide students with opportunities to form new
friendships, to broaden their interests, and to engage in worthwhile
service projects. There are other organizations representing
several of the denominational groups. Included are the following: Baptist
Student Movement, Canterbury Club (Episcopal), Christian
Science Organization, Friends' Meeting for Worship, Hillel (Jewish),
Liberal Religious Fellowship, Lutheran Student Association,
Newman Club (Roman Catholic), Presbyterian Student Fellowship,
United Student Fellowship (Congregational-Baptist), and Wesley
Fellowship (Methodist). Student religious organizations
are co-ordinated under the Religious Activities Committee, a standing
committee of the Carleton Student Association. THE NORTHFIELD
CHURCHES include the following: Alliance, Congregational-Baptist,
Episcopal, Lutheran (Norwegian, Danish, Missouri Synod,
and Bethel), Methodist, Moravian, Pentecostal, and Roman Catholic.

#THEATER#

THE PURPOSE of producing plays at the College

is three-fold: to provide the Carleton students with the best possible
opportunity for theater-going within the limits set by the maturity
and experience of the performers and the theatrical facilities available;
to encourage the practice of attending the theater; and
to develop a discriminating audience for good drama and sensitive performance.

Dramatic activity at the College is organized and carried

on by The Carleton Players, which is to say by all students who
are so inclined to advance these aims. For the 1960-1961 season,
The
Carleton Players have announced <Blood Wedding> by Federico
Garcia Lorca, <The Knight of the Burning Pestle> by Beaumont
and Fletcher and <A Moon for the Misbegotten> by Eugene O'Neill,
with a pre-season production of <The Glass Menagerie> by Tennessee
Williams.

#STUDENT WORKSHOP#

THIS workshop, located

in Boliou Hall, provides facilities for students to work in ceramics,
weaving, enameling, welding, woodworking, textile printing, printmaking,
and lapidary. These extra-curricular activities are conducted
under supervision of the Director of the Student Workshop. The
workshop is open five afternoons and two evenings each week.
A student organization, Bottega, is open to any student interested in
increasing his understanding and appreciation of the graphic and ceramic
arts in their historical, technical, and productive contexts. The
group meets once a week in the Boliou Student Workshop. They are
assisted and advised by members of the Art Department.

#ATHLETICS#

THE ATHLETIC PROGRAM at Carleton is considered an integral

part of the activities of the College and operates under the same
budgetary procedure and controls as the academic work. The physical
education program for men recognizes the value of participation
in competitive sports in the development of the individual student and
aims to give every man an opportunity to enter some form of athletic
competition, either intercollegiate or intramural. The same standards
for admission, for eligibility to receive scholarships or grants-in-aid,
and for scholastic performance at college apply to all students.

A faculty committee on athletics, responsible to the faculty

as a whole, exercises control over the athletic program of the College.
It concerns itself with: _1._ The policies which govern
the program _2._ The preservation of desirable balance between
the athletic and academic programs of the College _3._ The approval
of athletic schedules _4._ The maintenance of Midwest Conference
eligibility standards Carleton is a member of the Midwest
Collegiate Athletic Conference and abides by its eligibility rules.
In addition to these rules, Carleton has added the following:
_1._ A student who while in attendance at Carleton College participates
in an athletic contest during the school year, other than that
sponsored by the College, shall be permanently ineligible to participate
in intercollegiate athletics at Carleton College and will also
face permanent suspension from the institution. The school year does
not end for any student until he has completed his last examination
of the semester. _2._ A student to be eligible for the captaincy
of any Carleton team must have a scholastic record of at least 1.00.

THE "~C" CLUB is composed of the men of the College

who have won an official letter in Carleton athletics. The purpose
of the Club is to promote better athletic teams at Carleton and to
increase interest in them among the student body. This is done by encouraging
the entire male student body to participate in either the intercollegiate
or intramural sports program and by sponsoring the Carleton
cheerleaders. _SOCCER CLUB._ The Soccer Club was organized
by undergraduate men interested in playing soccer and promoting the sport.
Membership consists of both beginners and experienced players. Practices
are held regularly and the schedule of games is prepared by
the student coach and the officers of the club. _WOMEN'S RECREATION
ASSOCIATION._ This Association, organized in 1920, is affiliated
with the Athletic Federation of College Women. The purpose of the
organization is to further the interest of women students in recreational
activities as a means of promoting physical efficiency, sportsmanship,
and "play for play's sake". The Association is governed
by a board made up of representatives from each of the four classes.
Membership is open to any woman student in the College. Active groups
sponsored by the organization include the Saddle Club, Orchesis,
Golf Club, Tennis Club, and Dolphins. The Saddle Club, open to
students proficient in horsemanship, presents the Annual Spring Riding
Exhibition, and during the year it offers speakers, movies, breakfast
rides, and trips to broaden their knowledge of the sport. Orchesis,
for students interested in the modern dance, contributes to the
May Fete and offers earlier in the year a modern dance demonstration.
Tennis Club participates in a dual tennis tournament with the University
of Minnesota each fall, and also sponsors a two-day state invitational
tennis meet at Carleton in May. The Dolphins present a
three-night
water show the week of the May Fete. Under the auspices of
the Women's Recreation Association, interclass competition is organized
in badminton, basketball, field hockey, golf, tennis, and swimming.
The Association participates in the winter sports carnival and
sponsors several Play Days with St& Olaf and other near-by colleges.
With the co-operation of the Department of Physical Education
for Men, the Women's Recreation Association arranges mixed tournaments
in tennis and golf in the fall and spring. Throughout the year
there are social events, such as picnics, breakfast hikes, canoe trips,
banquets, and indoor parties.

#COLLEGE PUBLICATIONS#

IN ADDITION
to the miscellaneous pamphlets and other printed matter which
it issues, the College maintains regular publications, as follows:

<The Bulletin,> in five issues: <The Report of the

President> in August; <The Alumni Fund Report> in September;
the annual <Catalog> in March; an <Alumni Reunion Bulletin>
in April; and a special <Bulletin> in June. The College
also publishes each year <The Report of the Treasurer> and a monthly
newsletter entitled <Carleton College Comments>. In co-operation
with the Alumni Association of Carleton College, an alumni magazine,
<The Voice of the Carleton Alumni,> is edited and mailed
seven times a year by the College's Publications Office and the
Alumni Office. At intervals an alumni directory is issued.
These publications may be secured as follows: The annual <Catalog>
from the Director of Admissions and other issues from the Publications
Office. In January, 1960, the first issue of <The
Carleton Miscellany,> a quarterly literary magazine, was published
by the College. The magazine, edited by members of the Carleton Department
of English, includes contributions by authors from both within
and beyond the Carleton community.

#STUDENT PUBLICATIONS#

<The
Carletonian,> the college newspaper, is edited by students and published
by the College under the supervision of the Publications Board.
(See page 100.) It is issued weekly throughout the college year.
The Publications Board holds annual competitive examinations for
places on the editorial and business staffs. The editor, sports editor,
and student business manager are chosen in December, the new staff
assuming responsibility for the paper at the beginning of the second
semester. The paper affords excellent practice for students interested
in the field of journalism. <The Algol,> the college annual,
is published in the fall of each year. <The Algol> serves as a
record of campus organizations and student activities during the year.
The Publications Board receives applications for the positions of
editor and business manager and makes the appointments in the spring
previous to the year of publication. Members of <The Algol> staff
are nominated by the editor and business manager and appointed by the
Publications Board. <Manuscript,> a quarterly literary magazine,
is published by the students of the College. It is the purpose
of this magazine to serve as an outlet for student creative writing.
The editor and business manager of <Manuscript> are appointed by
the Publications Board.

#CAMPUS BROADCASTING STATION#

A LOW-POWER,
"carrier-current" broadcasting station, ~KARL, heard
only in the campus dormitories, is owned and operated by the students
to provide an outlet for student dramatic, musical, literary, technical,
and other talents, and to furnish information, music, and entertainment
for campus listeners. Over a hundred students participate in
the planning and production of the daily program schedule. ~KARL
provides experience for students who wish to pursue careers in radio.

#STUDENT GOVERNMENT#

THE CARLETON STUDENT ASSOCIATION includes

all students in college and is intended "to work for the betterment
of Carleton College by providing student government and student
participation with the college administration in the formulation and execution
of policies which pertain to student life and activities".

THE CARLETON SOCIAL CO-OPERATIVE is a standing committee

of the Carleton Student Association. Week-end activities for the entire
campus are planned by the Co-op Board.

In recent months, much attention has been given to the probable

extent of the current downtrend in business and economists are somewhat
divided as to the outlook for the near future. And yet, despite some
disappointment with the performance of this first year of the new
decade, 1960 has been a good year in many ways, with many overall measures
of business having reached new peaks for the year as a whole. The
shift in sentiment from excessive optimism early in the year to the
present mood of caution has probably been a good thing, in that it has
prevented the accumulation of the burdensome inventories that have characterized
many previous swings in the business cycle. This caution
has been particularly noticeable in a tendency of retailers and distributors
to shift the inventory burden back on the supplier, and the fact
stocks at retail are low in many lines has escaped attention because
of the presence of higher stocks at the manufacturing level. In
the electronics industry, this tendency is well illustrated by inventories
of ~TV sets. Factory stocks in recent months have been the
highest they have been in three years, while those at retail are below
1959. The total value of our industry's shipments, at factory prices,
increased from $9.2 billion in 1959 to approximately $10.1 billion
as a result of increases in all of the major segments of our business-
home entertainment, military, industrial, and replacement. I believe
a further gain is in prospect for 1961.

#HOME ENTERTAINMENT SALES

UP#

Reflecting the largest percentage of high-end sets such as

consoles and combinations since 1953, dollar value of home entertainment
electronics in 1960 was about $1.9 billion, compared to $1.7 billion
in 1959. Sales of ~TV sets at retail ran ahead of the like months
of 1959 through July; set production (excluding those destined for
the export market) also ran ahead in the early months, but was curtailed
after the usual vacation shutdowns in the face of growing evidence
that some of the early production plans had been overly optimistic.
For the year as a whole, retail sales of ~TV sets probably came
to 5.8 million against 5.7 million in 1959; however, production came
to only 5.6 million compared to 6.2 million. In contrast to the
lower turnout of ~TV, total radio production increased from 15.4
million sets to 16.7 million (excluding export). Both home and auto
radios were in excellent demand, with retail sales of home sets ahead
of 1959 in every month of the first eleven; sales and production of
home sets were about equal at 10.4 million units. Auto set production
came to about 6.3 million compared to 5.6 million in 1959. Separate
phonographs also had a good year, reflecting the growing popularity of
stereo
sound and the same tendency on the part of the consumer to upgrade
that characterized the radio-~TV market. The outlook
for entertainment electronics in 1961 is certainly far from clear at present,
but recent surveys have shown a desire on the part of consumers
to step up their buying plans for durable goods. I would expect that
sales at retail in the first half of 1961 might be below 1960 by some
10-15% but that second-half levels should show a favorable comparison,
with a possibility of quite strong demand late in the year if business
conditions recover as some recent forecasts suggest they will. I
look for ~TV sales and production to be approximately equal at 5.7
million sets for the year, but I look for some decline in radios from
the high rate in 1961 to more nearly the 1959 level of 15.0-15.5 million
sets. I therefore believe it is realistic to assume a modest drop
in the total value of home entertainment electronics to about $1.8
million, slightly below 1960, but above 1959.

#MILITARY ELECTRONICS
TO GROW#

1960 witnessed another substantial increase in our industry's

shipments of military electronics, which totalled about $5.4 billion
compared to $4.9 billion in 1959. It is interesting to note that
the present level of military electronics procurement is greater than
the industry's total sales to all markets in 1950-1953, which were good
years for our industry with television enjoying its initial period
of rapid consumer acceptance. It has been correctly pointed out by well-informed
people in the industry that it is probably unrealistic to
expect a continuation of the yearly growth of 15% or better that characterized
the decade of the 1950's, and that our military markets
may be entering upon a new phase in which procurement of multiple weapons
systems will give way to concentration of still undeveloped areas
of our defense capability. While this may well be true in general, I
believe it is also important to keep in mind that some recent developments
suggest that over the next year or so military electronics may be
one of the most strongly growing areas in an economy which is not expanding
rapidly in other directions. Among the items scheduled
for acceleration in the near future are the POLARIS and ~B70
programs, strengthening of the airborne alert system of the Strategic
Air Command, and improved battlefield surveillance systems. Research
and development expenditures connected with the reconnaissance satellite
SAMOS and the future development of ballistic missile
defense systems such as NIKE-ZEUS are expected to increase substantially.
Research, development test and evaluation funds, devoted
to missiles in 1960 were 3 to 4 times as large as those devoted to aircraft,
and actual missile procurement is expected to exceed aircraft procurement
by 1963. Still later, the realm of space technology will show
substantial gains; it has been estimated that spending by the National
Aeronautics and Space Administration will rise from less than
$500 million in fiscal 1960 to more than $2 billion by 1967, and that
the electronic industry's share of these expenditures will be closer
to 50% than the current 20%. The stepped up defense procurement
called for in the 1961 Budget has already begun to make itself
felt in an upturn in orders for military electronic equipment and
the components that go into it, and it has been suggested that an additional
$2 billion increase in total defense spending may be requested
for fiscal 1962. Although the impact of these increases on our industry's
shipments will be gradual, on balance I look for another good
increase in shipments in the coming year, to at least $6 billion.

#INDUSTRIAL
ELECTRONIC EQUIPMENT#

Paced by the continuing rapid growth

of electronic data processing, sales of industrial and commercial electronic
equipment totalled $1.8 billion compared to $1.6 billion in 1959.
The market for computers and other data-handling continues to expand
at the rate of about 30% annually, reaching some $450 million in
1960. Informed estimates look for this market to approximately quadruple
by the late 1960's, under the stimulus of new applications in
the fields of banking and retailing, industrial process control, and information
storage and retrieval. In the industrial field, prospects
for higher expenditures on electronic testing and measuring equipment
are also quite bright. For the near term, however, it must be realized
that the industrial and commercial market is somewhat more sensitive
to general business conditions than is the military market, and for this
reason I would expect that any gain in 1961 may be somewhat smaller
than those of recent years; sales should slightly exceed 1960, however,
and reach $1.9 billion.

#REPLACEMENT PARTS#

In addition to
the three major original equipment segments of the electronics business,
the steady growth in the market for replacement parts continues
year by year. This is now a $1.0 billion business, up from $0.9 billion
in 1959, and should reach $1.1 billion in 1961. The markets
for electronic parts in 1960 have reflected the changing patterns of
the various end equipment segments of the industry. Demand for parts
for home entertainment was strong in the first half, but purchases were
cut back to lower levels during the fall as set manufacturers reduced
their own operating rates. In the military field, incoming orders turned
down early in the year, and remained rather slow until late fall
when the upturn in procurement of equipment began to make itself felt
in rising orders for components. Sales of transistors in 1960
exceeded $300 million, compared to $222 million in 1959 despite substantial
price reductions in virtually all types. Production totalled about
123 million units against 82 million in 1959, and I look for a further
gain to 188 million units worth approximately $380 million in 1961.
Sales of passive components, such as capacitors and resistors, although
not growing as fast as those of semi-conductors were ahead of
1959 this year, and should increase again in 1961. In sum, I
look for another good year for the electronics industry in 1961, with
total sales increasing about 7% to $10.8 billion, despite the uncertainties
in the business outlook generally. As I have indicated above,
I base this feeling on a belief that current weakness in the market
for consumer durable goods may continue through the early months of
the year, but will give way to a sufficiently strong recovery later on
to bring the full-year figures close to those of 1960; on prospects
for continued increases in defense spending; and on continued growth
in the applications of electronics to the complex problems of manufacturing
and trade in the expanding but competitive economy of the 1960's.

The appointment of Gilbert B& Devey as General Manager

of VecTrol Engineering, Inc&, of Stamford, Connecticut, a leading
manufacturer of thyratron and silicon controlled rectifier electrical
controls, has been announced by David B& Peck, Vice President,
Special Products. Mr& Devey will be responsible for the
commercial expansion of VecTrol's line of electronic and electrical
power control components as furnished to end equipment manufacturers,
working closely with Walter J& Brown, President and Director
of Engineering of the recently acquired Sprague subsidiary. Mr&
Brown will at the same time undertake expansion of VecTrol's custom
design program for electronic control users with a greatly increased
engineering staff. Mr& Devey's new responsibilities are
in addition to those of his present post as marketing manager of
Sprague's Special Products Group, which manufactures a wide line
of digital electronic components, packaged component assemblies, and
high temperature magnet wires. Mr& Devey first came to Sprague
in 1953 as a Product Specialist in the Field Engineering Department,
coming from the Office of Naval Research in Washington, D&
C&, where he was an electronic scientist engaged in undersea warfare
studies. During World War /2,, he was a lieutenant commander
in the United States Navy. Mr& Devey is a graduate of the Massachusetts
Institute of Technology, and attended the United States
Naval Academy Post-Graduate School specializing in electronic
engineering. He was named Product Manager of the Special Products
Division of Sprague when it was founded in 1958, and was later promoted
to his present post. Mr& Devey is a member of the Institute
of Radio Engineers, and is chairman of the Electronic Industries Association
Committee ~P-9 on Printed and Modular Components.

Mr& Brown, well-known, English-born inventor, prior to founding

VecTrol was at various times section leader in radio research at
Metropolitan Vickers Electrical Co&, Ltd&; chief engineer
of the radio set division of Electric and Musical Industries, Ltd&,
the largest electronic equipment manufacturer in Great Britain;
director of engineering at Philco of Great Britain, Ltd&, and
vice president in charge of production and assistant to the president
at The Brush Development Co&, Cleveland, Ohio. He has a Bachelor
of Science from the University of Manchester, England. Mr&
Brown presently has over 130 patents to his credit dating back to 1923.
He is a fellow of the American Institute of Electrical Engineers,
and a senior member of the Institute of Radio Engineers. He
is a member of the Institution of Electrical Engineers, London, a
registered professional engineer in Connecticut and Ohio, and a chartered
electrical engineer in Great Britain.

The promotion of Robert E& Swift to the position of Assistant

Manager of the Interference Control Field Service Department
was announced early in December by Frederick S& Scarborough,
Manager of Interference Control Field Service. The appointment was
made in a move to expand the engineering services offered to the designers
of electronic systems through assistance in electro-magnetic compatability
problems.
Between meetings he helps the president keep track of delegated matters.
Since these duties fit neatly with those of the proposed presidential
aide, one person, with adequate staff assistance, could fill both
jobs. ##

<Since faculty see themselves as self-employed professionals

rather than as employees, enthusiasm in a common enterprise is
proportionate to the sense of ownership they have in it by virtue of sharing
in the decisions that govern its course>. The faculty
believes that broad autonomy is necessary to preserve its freedom in teaching
and scholarship. The president expects faculty members to remember,
in exercising their autonomy, that they share no collective responsibility
for the university's income nor are they personally accountable
for top-level decisions. He may welcome their appropriate participation
in the determination of high policy, but he has a right to
expect, in return, that they will leave administrative matters to the
administration. How well do faculty members govern themselves?
There is little evidence that they are giving any systematic thought
to a general theory of the optimum scope and nature of their part in
government. They sometimes pay more attention to their rights than
to their own internal problems of government. They, too, need to learn
to delegate. Letting the administration take details off their hands
would give them more time to inform themselves about education as a
whole, an area that would benefit by more faculty attention. Although
faculties insist on governing themselves, they grant little prestige
to a member who actively participates in college or university
government. There are, nevertheless, several things that the president
can do to stimulate participation and to enhance the prestige of those
who are willing to exercise their privilege. He can, for example,
present significant university-wide issues to the senate. He can encourage
quality in faculty committee work in various ways: by seeing to
it that the membership of each committee represents the thoughtful as
well as the action-oriented faculty; by making certain that no faculty
member has too many committee assignments; by assuring good liaison
between the committees and the administration; by minimizing the
number of committees. Despite the many avenues for the exchange
of ideas between faculty and administration, complaints of a lack
of communication persist. The cause is as often neglect as hesitance
to disclose. A busy president, conversant with a problem and its ramifications
and beset by pressures to meet deadlines, tends naturally to
assume that others must be as familiar with a problem as he is. The
need for interchange and understanding makes vital the full use of all
methods of consultation. To increase faculty influence and decrease
tension, many presidents have established a standing advisory
committee with which they can discuss problems frankly. The president
has little influence in day-by-day curricular changes, but if
he looks ahead two, three, or five years to anticipate issues and throw
out challenging ideas, he can open the way for innovation, and he can
also have a great deal to say as to what path it will take. Success
will require tact, sensitivity to faculty prerogatives, patience, and
persistence. ##

<The critical task for every president and his

academic administrative staff is to assure that the college or university
continually rebuilds and regenerates itself so that its performance
will match changing social demands **h great professors do not automatically
reproduce themselves>. Deans can form an important bridge
between the president and the faculty. They serve not only as spokesmen
for their areas, but they also contribute to top-level decision
making. The president who appoints strong men who have an all-college
or university point of view and a talent and respect for administration
can count on useful assistance. Faculty members depend on
their department chairmen to promote their interests with the administration.
The administration at the same time, looks to the chairmen
for strategic aid in building stronger departments. One way that this
can be done, other than by hiring new high-priced professors, is by constantly
encouraging the department members to raise their standards
of performance. The quality of a president's leadership is
measured first by his success in building up the faculty. By supporting
the efforts of the many faculty members who are working to attain ever
higher standards, the president can encourage faculty leadership.
Indirectly he can best help them by insuring that rigorous criteria for
appointment and promotion are clearly set forth and adhered to.

The academic dean should take a direct, long-term interest in faculty

development. An alert dean will confer all through the year on personnel
needs, plans for the future, qualifications of those on the job,
and bright prospects elsewhere. For the maintenance of a long-term
program, the departments, and particularly their chairmen, are
strategic. They evaluate and nominate candidates for appointment and
promotion. To provide an independent judgment for the president, the
academic dean also investigates candidates thoroughly. At some
colleges and universities, a faculty committee reviews and reports
to the administration on the qualifications of candidates. Some faculty
members and many administrators oppose faculty review groups because
they either repeat department's actions or act <pro forma>. They
can be effective, however, if their members set high standards for candidates
and devote substantial time to the work. At one university,
the president cites the faculty review committee as "a valued partner
of the administration in guarding and promoting the quality of the
faculty". Before the president recommends a candidate to the
trustees, the administration collects the views of colleagues in the
same field of knowledge on campus and elsewhere. The president or dean
reads some of his publications to form the truest possible evaluation
of the quality of his mind. No good way to evaluate teaching ability
has yet been discovered, although some institutions use inventory sheets
for a list of criteria. To avoid passing over quiet, unaggressive
teachers as well as to decide whether others merit promotion, review
of the right of faculty members to promotion or salary increases should
be made periodically whether or not they have been recommended for
advancement by their departments. There are certain aspects of
personnel development in which a president must involve himself directly.
He should personally consider the potential of a faculty member
proposed for tenure, to guard against the mistake of making this profoundly
serious commitment turn solely upon the man's former achievements.
No one can be as effective as the president in inspiring older
men to welcome imaginative new teachers whose philosophy or approach to
their specialties is quite different. In particular, the president
may have to summon all his oratorical powers to persuade department members
to accept an outstanding man above the normal salary scale. On
those rare occasions when a faculty member on tenure is not meeting the
standards of the institution, the president must also bear the ultimate
burden of decision and action. ##

<A true university, like most

successful marriages, is a unity of diversities **h Without forcing
all components into a single pattern, the preparation of a master plan
is an opportunity to consider interrelation of knowledge at its highest
level, which a university- in contrast to a multiversity- should
stand for>. Recently colleges and universities have begun
to translate their educational philosophy into institution-wide goals.
Each year a few more institutions are deciding such questions as:
Shall we require a liberal education built around a humanities core
for all undergraduates? Or shall we permit early specialization in
scientific and technological subjects? In the first instance, adequate
appropriate reading materials and library accommodations must be
planned. In the second, more shops, laboratories, and staff will be required.

For the president, a master plan looking ahead five years

(the maximum reach for sound forecasting), offers several practical
advantages. Trustees, faculty, and administration can consider the
consequences of decisions before they are made, instead of afterwards.
Physical plant and equipment can be efficiently developed. Proposed
new programs can be examined for appropriateness to goals and for present
and future financial fitness. More than one president has found
that a long-range plan helps him to attract major gifts. It inspires
confidence in his institution's determination to establish goals and
to achieve them. Before deciding where it is going, however,
a college
or university must know where it is. The first step is a comprehensive
self study made by faculty, by outside consultants, or by a combination
of the two. It should sternly appraise curricula, faculty, organization,
buildings, faculty work loads, and potential for growth in
stature and size. Implementation of the master plan will inevitably
be uneven. Some departments will attack their new goals enthusiastically;
others may drag their feet. Funds may be readily donated
for some purposes but not others. A plan must therefore be brought
up to date periodically, possibly with the assistance of a permanent
planning officer. To provide the continuous flow of information
basic to administrative decisions, a number of institutions have established
offices of institutional research. Some offices have very broad
responsibilities, touching on almost all aspects of a university's
instructional program. Their duties include evaluation of the information
collected and preparation of recommendations. More often, these
offices are restricted to the gathering of empirical data. ##
**h <the president's opportunity for influencing education reaches
its highest point, as he decides which projects he will cut back, which
he will advance by increased allowances or new fund-raising efforts>.

No matter how high the hopes and dreams of educators, budget

making adjusts them to the cold realities of dollars and cents. When
the budget goes to trustees for approval it is the president's budget,
to which his faith and credit are committed; its principal features
should be a product of his most considered judgment. He cannot,
of course, examine each proposal from scratch. He reviews and shapes
the work of others to mold a single joint product that will best promote
the aims of the institution. Budgeting must be flexible to
allow adaptation to the rapid changes in scientific and technological
scholarship. Because scientific instruction and research involve increasingly
large sums of money, an institution should choose its fields
of prominence. Otherwise it will be headed for bankruptcy, at worst,
and at best towards starvation of other less dramatic but socially and
culturally indispensable branches of learning. In the national interest
even the affluent universities must consider some division of labor
among them to replace their present ambitions to keep up with the Joneses
in all branches. ##

<Supporting activities- business

management, public relations, fund-raising- offer presidents one of
their best chances to buy freedom for attention to education **h Here
the reasonable mastery of the elements of administration can do much
to free a president for his primary role>. In the areas that
do
not relate directly to the educational program, expert subordinates will
serve the college or university better than close presidential attention.
The president should find strong subordinates and delegate the
widest discretion to them. Higher education cannot compete with the
salary scales of the business world, but an educational institution can
offer many potent intangible attractions to members of the business
community that will offset the differences in income. Just as
the entire faculty should know the president's educational philosophy
and objectives, so should non-academic officers. They will better
understand the relationship of their activities to the academic program
and they will be able to explain their actions to faculty in terms of
mutual goals. A president is frequently besieged to serve in
non-academic civic and governmental capacities, to make speeches to lay
groups, and to make numerous ceremonial appearances on and off campus.
Since he can neither accept nor reject them all, he must be governed
by the time and energy available for his prime professional obligations.
Declinations and substitutions are better received when he explains
why his obligations to his institution preclude his acceptance.

By sharing the load of important speeches with his colleagues,

the president can develop a cadre of able spokesmen who will help to
create a public perception of the university as an institution, something
more than the lengthened shadow of one man.

#1. INTRODUCTION#

IT HAS recently become practical to use the

radio emission of the moon and planets as a new source of information
about these bodies and their atmospheres. The results of present observations
of the thermal radio emission of the moon are consistent with
the very low thermal conductivity of the surface layer which was derived
from the variation in the infrared emission during eclipses (e&g&,
Garstung, 1958). When sufficiently accurate and complete measurements
are available, it will be possible to set limits on the thermal
and electrical characteristics of the surface and subsurface materials
of the moon. Observations of the radio emission of a planet
which has an extensive atmosphere will probe the atmosphere to a greater
extent than those using shorter wave lengths and should in some cases
give otherwise unobtainable information about the characteristics
of the solid surface. Radio observations of Venus and Jupiter have
already supplied unexpected experimental data on the physical conditions
of these planets. The observed intensity of the radio emission of
Venus is much higher than the expected thermal intensity, although the
spectrum indicated by measurements at wave lengths near 3 ~cm and
1o ~cm is like that of a black body at about 6oo` ~K. This result
suggests a very high temperature at the solid surface of the planet,
although there is the possibility that the observed radiation may be
a combination of both thermal and non-thermal components and that the
observed spectrum is that of a black body merely by coincidence. For
the case of Jupiter, the radio emission spectrum is definitely not like
the spectrum of a black-body radiator, and it seems very likely that
the radiation reaching the earth is a combination of thermal radiation
from the atmosphere and non-thermal components. Of the remaining
planets, only Mars and Saturn have been observed as radio sources,
and not very much information is available. Mars has been observed
twice at about 3-~cm wave length, and the intensity of the observed
radiation is in reasonable agreement with the thermal radiation which
might be predicted on the basis of the known temperature of Mars.
The low intensity of the radiation from Saturn has limited observations,
but again the measured radiation seems to be consistent with a thermal
origin. No attempts to measure the radio emission of the remaining
planets have been reported, and, because of their distances, small
diameters, or low temperatures, the thermal radiation at radio wave lengths
reaching the earth from these sources is expected to be of very
low intensity. In spite of this, the very large radio reflectors and
improved amplifying techniques which are now becoming available should
make it possible to observe the radio emission of most of the planets
in a few years. The study of the radio emission of the moon
and planets began with the detection of the thermal radiation of the moon
at 1.25-~cm wave length by Dicke and Beringer (1946). This was
followed by a comprehensive series of observations of the 1.25-~cm
emission of the moon over three lunar cycles by Piddington and Minnett
(1949). They deduced from their measurements that the radio emission
from the whole disk of the moon varied during a lunation in a roughly
sinusoidal fashion; that the amplitude of the variation was considerably
less than the amplitude of the variation in the infrared emission
as measured by Pettit and Nicholson (1930) and Pettit (1935);
and that the maximum of the radio emission came about 3-1/2 days after
Full
Moon, which is again in contrast to the infrared emission, which reaches
its maximum at Full Moon. Piddington and Minnett explained
their observations by pointing out that rocklike materials which are likely
to make up the surface of the moon would be partially transparent
to radio waves, although opaque to infrared radiation. The infrared
emission could then be assumed to originate at the surface of the moon,
while the radio emission originates at some depth beneath the surface,
where the temperature variation due to solar radiation is reduced
in amplitude and shifted in phase. Since the absorption of radio waves
in rocklike material varies with wave length, it should be possible
to sample the temperature variation at different depths beneath the surface
and possibly detect changes in the structure or composition of the
lunar surface material. The radio emission of a planet was
first detected in 1955, when Burke and Franklin (1955) identified the
origin of interference-like radio noise on their records at about 15
meters wave length as emission from Jupiter. This sporadic type of
planetary radiation is discussed by Burke (chap& 13) and Gallet (chap&
14). Steady radiation which was presumably of thermal origin was
observed from Venus at 3.15 and 9.4 ~cm, and from Mars and Jupiter
at 3.15 ~cm in 1956 (Mayer, McCullough, and Sloanaker, 1958<a,
b, c>), and from Saturn at 3.75 ~cm in 1957 (Drake and Ewen,
1958). In the relatively short time since these early observations,
Venus has been observed at additional wave lengths in the range from
0.8 to 10.2 ~cm, and Jupiter has been observed over the wave-length
range from 3.03 to 68 ~cm. The observable characteristics of
planetary radio radiation are the intensity, the polarization, and the
direction of arrival of the waves. The maximum angular diameter of
any planetary disk as observed from the earth is about 1 minute of arc.
This is much smaller than the highest resolution of even the very
large reflectors now under construction, and consequently the radio emission
of different regions of the disk cannot be resolved. It should
be possible, however, to put useful limits on the diameters of the radio
sources by observing with large reflectors or with interferometers.
Measurements of polarization are presently limited by apparatus sensitivity
and will remain difficult because of the low intensity of the
planetary radiation at the earth. There have been few measurements specifically
for the determination of the polarization of planetary radiation.
The measurements made with the ~NRL 50-foot reflector,
which is altitude-azimuth-mounted, would have shown a systematic change
with local hour angle in the measured intensities of Venus and Jupiter
if a substantial part of the radiation had been linearly polarized.
Recent interferometer measurements (Radhakrishnan and Roberts,
1960) have shown the 960-~Mc emission of Jupiter to be partially
polarized
and to originate in a region of larger diameter than the visible
disk. Other than this very significant result, most of the information
now available about the radio emission of the planets is restricted
to the intensity of the radiation. The concept of apparent
black-body temperature is used to describe the radiation received from
the moon and the planets. The received radiation is compared with the
radiation from a hypothetical black body which subtends the same solid
angle as the visible disk of the planet. The <apparent black-body
disk temperature> is the temperature which must be assumed for the
black body in order that the intensity of its radiation should equal that
of the observed radiation. The use of this concept does not specify
the origin of the radiation, and only if the planet really radiates
as a black body, will the apparent black-body temperature correspond
to the physical temperature of the emitting material. The radio
radiation of the sun which is reflected from the moon and planets should
be negligible compared with their thermal emission at centimeter
wave lengths, except possibly at times of exceptional outbursts of solar
radio noise. The quiescent level of centimeter wave-length solar radiation
would increase the average disk brightness temperature by less
than 1` ~K. At meter wave lengths and increase of the order of
10` ~K in the average disk temperatures of the nearer planets would
be expected. Therefore, neglecting the extreme outbursts, reflected
solar radiation is not expected to cause sizable errors in the measurements
of planetary radiation in the centimeter- and decimeter-wave-length
range.

#2. THE MOON#

_2.1 OBSERVATIONS_ Radio observations

of the moon have been made over the range of wave lengths from 4.3 ~mm
to 75 ~cm, and the results are summarized in Table 1. Observations
have also been made at 1.5 ~mm using optical techniques (Sinton,
1955, 1956,; see also chap& 11). Not all the observers have used
the same procedures or made the same assumptions about the lunar brightness
distribution when reducing the data, and this, together with
differences in the methods of calibrating the antennae and receivers,
must account for much of the disagreement in the measured radio brightness
temperatures. In the observations at 4.3 ~mm (Coates,
1959<a>), the diameter of the antenna beam, 6'.7, was small enough
to allow resolution of some of the larger features of the lunar surface,
and contour diagrams have been made of the lunar brightness distribution
at three lunar phases. These observations indicate that the lunar
maria heat up more rapidly and also cool off more rapidly than do
the mountainous regions. Mare Imbrium seems to be an exception and
remains cooler than the regions which surround it. These contour diagrams
also suggest a rather rapid falloff in the radio brightness with
latitude. Very recently, observations have been made at 8-~mm
wave length with a reflector 22 meters in diameter with a resultant
beam width of only about 2' (Amenitskii, Noskova, and Salomonovich,
1960). The constant-temperature contours are much smoother than those
observed at 4.3 ~mm by Coates (1959<a>), and apparently the emission
at 8 ~mm is not nearly so sensitive to differences in surface
features. Such high-resolution observations as these are needed at several
wave lengths in order that the radio emission of the moon can
be properly
interpreted. The observations of Mayer, McCullough,
and Sloanaker at 3.15 ~cm and of Sloanaker at 10.3 ~cm have not
previously
been published and will be briefly described. Measurements
at 3.15 ~cm were obtained on 11 days spread over the interval May 3
to June 19, 1956, using the 50-foot reflector at the U& S& Naval
Research Laboratory in Washington. The half-intensity diameter
of the antenna beam was about 9', and the angle subtended by the moon
included the entire main beam and part of the first side lobes. The
antenna patterns and the power gain at the peak of the beam were both
measured (Mayer, McCullough, and Sloanaker, 1958<b>), so that
the
absolute power sensitivity of the antenna beam over the solid angle
of the moon was known. The ratio of the measured antenna temperature
change during a drift scan across the moon to the average brightness temperature
of the moon over the antenna beam (assuming that the brightness
temperature of the sky is negligible) was found, by graphical integration
of the antenna directivity diagram, to be 0.85. The measured
brightness temperature is a good approximation to the brightness temperature
at the <center of the lunar disk> because of the narrow antenna
beam and because the temperature distribution over the central portion
of the moon's disk is nearly uniform. The result of the observations
is (in ` ~K) **f where the phase angle, |q<t>, is measured
in degrees from new moon and the probable errors include absolute
as well as relative errors. This result is plotted along with the 8.6-~mm
observations of Gibson (1958) in figure 1, <a>. The variation
in the 3-~cm emission of the moon during a lunation is very much
less than the variation in the 8.6-~mm emission, as would be expected
from the explanation of Piddington and Minnett (1949). In the discussion
which follows, the time average of the radio emission will be
referred to as the <constant component>, and the superimposed periodic
variation will be called the <variable component>. The 10.3-~cm
observation of Sloanaker was made on May 20, 1958, using the
84-foot reflector at the Maryland Point Observatory of the U&
S& Naval Research Laboratory. The age of the moon was about 2
days. The half-intensity diameter of the main lobe of the antenna was
about 18'.5, and the brightness temperature was reduced by assuming
a Gaussian shape for the antenna beam and a uniformly bright disk for
the moon.

#ABSTRACT#

Experiments were made on an electric arc applying a porous

graphite anode cooled by a transpiring gas (Argon). Thus, the
energy transferred from the arc to the anode was partly fed back into
the arc. It was shown that by proper anode design the net energy loss
of the arc to the anode could be reduced to approximately 15% of the
total arc energy A detailed energy balance of the anode was established.
The anode ablation could be reduced to a negligible amount. The dependence
of the arc voltage upon the mass flow velocity of the transpirating
gas was investigated for various arc lengths and currents between
100 ~Amp and 200 ~Amp. Qualitative observations were made and
high-speed motion pictures were taken to study flow phenomena in the
arc at various mass flow velocities.

#INTRODUCTION#

The high heat

fluxes existing at the electrode surfaces of electric arcs necessitate
extensive cooling to prevent electrode ablation. The cooling requirements
are particularly severe at the anode. In free burning electric
arcs, for instance, approximately 90% of the total arc power is transferred
to the anode giving rise to local heat fluxes in excess of
**f as measured by the authors- the exact value depending on the arc
atmosphere. In plasma generators as currently commercially available
for industrial use or as high temperature research tools often more than
50% of the total energy input is being transferred to the co0ling
medium of the anode. The higher heat transfer rates at the anode
compared with those at the cathode can be explained by the physical
phenomena occurring in free burning arcs. In plasma generators the
superimposed forced convection may modify the picture somewhat. The heat
transfer to the anode is due to the following effects: 1. Heat
of condensation (work function) plus kinetic energy of the electrons impinging
on the anode. This energy transfer depends on the current, the
temperature in the arc column, the anode material, and the conditions
in the anode sheath. 2. Heat transfer by molecular conduction as well
as by radiation from the arc column. The heat transfer to
the anode in free burning arcs is enhanced by a hot gas jet flowing from
the cathode towards the anode with velocities up **f. This phenomenon
has been experimentally investigated in detail by Maecker (Ref&
1). The pressure gradient producing the jet is due to the nature of the
magnetic field in the arc (rapid decrease of current density from cathode
to the anode). Hence, the flow conditions at the anode of free
burning arcs resemble those near a stagnation point. it is apparent
from the above and from experimental evidence that the cooling requirements
for the anode of free burning arcs are large compared with
those for the cathode. The gas flow through a plasma generator will modify
these conditions; however, the anode is still the part receiving
the largest heat flux. An attempt to improve the life of the anodes
or the efficiency of the plasma generators must, therefore, aim at
a reduction of the anode loss. The following possibilities exist for
achieving this: 1. The use of high voltages and low currents by proper
design to reduce electron heat transfer to the anode for a given
power output. 2. Continuous motion of the arc contact area at the anode
by flow or magnetic forces. 3. Feed back of the energy transferred
to the anode by applying gas transpiration through the anode.
The third method was, to our knowledge, successfully applied for the
first time by C& Sheer and co-workers (Ref& 2). The purpose of
the present study is to study the thermal conditions and to establish
an energy balance for a transpiration cooled anode as well as the effect
of blowing on the arc voltage. Gas injection through a porous anode
(transpiration cooling) not only feeds back the energy transferred
to the anode by the above mentioned processes, but also modifies the conditions
in the arc itself. A detailed study of this latter phenomenon
was not attempted in this paper. Argon was used as a blowing gas to
exclude any effects of dissociation or chemical reaction. The anode
material was porous graphite. Sintered porous metals should be usable
in principle. However, technical difficulties arise by melting at local
hot spots. The experimental arrangement as described below is based
on the geometry of free burning arcs. Thus, direct comparisons can
be drawn with free burning arcs which have been studied in detail during
the past years and decades by numerous investigators (Ref& 3).

#EXPERIMENTAL APPARATUS#

Figures 1 to 3 show photographic and schematic

views of the test stand and of two different models of the anode
holder. The cathode consisted of a 1/4'' diameter thoriated tungsten
rod attached to a water cooled copper tube. This tube could be
adjusted in its axial direction by an electric drive to establish the
required electrode spacing. The anode in figure 2 was mounted by means
of the anode holder which was attached to a steel plug and disk. The
transpiring gas ejected from the anode formed a jet directed axially
towards the cathode below. Inflow of air from the surrounding atmosphere
was prevented by the two disks shown in figure 2. Argon was also
blown at low velocities (mass flow rate **f) through a tube coaxial
with
the cathode as an additional precaution against contamination of the
arc by air. The anode consisted of a 1/2 inch diameter porous graphite
plug, 1/4 inch long. The graphite was National Carbon ~NC
60, which has a porosity of 50% and an average pore size of 30 This
small pore size was required to ensure uniformity of the flow leaving
the anode. The anode plug (Figure 2) was inserted into a carbon
anode holder. A shielded thermocouple was used to measure the upstream
temperature of the transpiring gas. It was exposed to a high velocity
gas jet. A plug and a tube with holes in its cylindrical walls divided
the chamber above the porous plug into two parts. This arrangement
had the purpose to prevent heated gas to reach the thermocouple by
natural convection. Two pyrometers shown in figure 1 and 2 (Pyrometer
Instrument Co& Model 95) served for simultaneous measurement of
the anode surface temperature and the temperature distribution along
the anode holder. Three thermocouples were placed at different locations
in the aluminum disk surrounding the anode holder to determine its
temperature. Another anode holder used in the experiments is shown
in figure 3. In this design the anode holder is water cooled and
the heat losses by conduction from the anode were determined by measuring
the temperature rise of the coolant. To reduce heat transfer from
the hot has to this anode holder outside the regime of the arc, a carbon
shield was attached tothe surface providing an air gap of 1/16
inch between the plate and the surface of the anode holder. In addition,
the inner surface of the carbon shield was covered with aluminum foil
to reduce radiation. Temperatures of the shield and of the surface
of the water-cooled anode holder were measured by thermocouples to account
for heat received by the coolant but not originating from the anode
plug. The argon flow from commercial bottles was regulated
by a pressure regulator and measured with a gas flow rator. The power
source was a commercial D& C& rectifier. At 100 ~Amp the
360 cycle ripple was less than 0.5 ~V (peak to peak) with a resistive
load. The current was regulated by means of a variable resistor and
measured with a 50 ~mV shunt and millivoltmeter. The arc voltage
was measured with a voltmeter whose terminals were connected to the anode
and cathode holders. Because of the falling characteristic of the
rectifier, no ballast resistor was required for stability of operation.
A high frequency starter was used to start the arc.

#EXPERIMENTAL
PROCEDURE AND ERROR ANALYSIS#

_1. TRANSPIRATION COOLED ANODE WITH

CARBON ANODE HOLDER_ The anode holder shown in figure 2 was designed
with two goals in mind. The heat losses of the holder were to be reduced
as far as possible and they should be such that an accurate heat
balance can be made. In order to reduce the number of variable parameters,
all experiments were made with a constant arc length of 0.5''
and a current of 100 ~Amp. The argon flow through the porous anode
was varied systematically between **f. and **f. The lower limit
was determined by the fact that for smaller flow rates the arc started
to strike to the anode holder instead of to the porous graphite plug
and that it became highly unstable. The upper limit was determined by
the difficulty of measuring the characteristic anode surface temperature
(see below) since only a small region of the anode was struck by the
arc. This region which had a higher temperature than the rest of the
anode surface changed size and location continuously. For each
mass flow rate the arc voltage was measured. To measure the surface
temperature of the anode plug, the surface was scanned with a pyrometer.
As it turned out, a very hot region occurred on the plug. Its temperature
was denoted by **f. The size of this hot region was estimated
by eye. The rest of the surface had a temperature which decreased towards
the outer diameter of the plug. The mean temperature of this region
was approximated by the temperature measured halfways between the
edge of the hot spot and the rim of the plug. It was denoted by **f.
The mean temperature of the surface was then computed according to
the following relation: **f where ~x is the fraction of the plug area
covered by the hot spot. Assuming thermal equilibrium between the
anode surface and the transpiring argon, the gas enthalpy rise through
the anode was calculated according to the relation **f whereby the specific
heat of argon was taken as **f. This calculation results in
an
enthalpy rise which is somewhat high because it assumes a mass flow equally
distributed over the plug cross section whereas in reality the mass
velocity is expected to be smaller in the regions of higher temperatures.

The upstream gas temperature measured with the thermocouple

shown in figure 2 was **f. The **f values are listed in Table 1
together
with the measured surface temperatures and arc voltages. Simultaneously
with the anode surface temperature and voltage measurements pyrometer
readings were taken along the cylindrical surface of the carbon anode
holder as indicated on figure 2. Some of these temperatures are plotted
in figure 4. They showed no marked dependence on the flow rate
within the accuracy of these measurements. Thus, the dotted line shown
in figure 4 was taken as typical for the temperature distribution for
all blowing rates. The thermocouples in the aluminum disk shown
in figure 2 indicated an equilibrium temperature of the surface of
**f. This temperature was taken as environmental temperature to which
the anode holder was exposed as far as radiation is concerned. It
is sufficiently small compared with the surface temperature of the anode
holder, to make the energy flux radiated from the environment toward
the anode holder negligible within the accuracy of the present measurements.
The reflection of radiation originating from the anode holder
and reflected back to it by the surrounding metal surfaces should also
be small because of the specular characteristic of the metal surfaces
and of the specific geometry. The total heat loss through the anode
holder included also the heat conducted through the base of the cylindrical
piece into the adjacent metal parts. It was calculated from the
temperature gradient **f at **f inch as **f. The total heat flux from
the porous plug into the plug holder is thereby **f The temperature
distribution of figure 4 gives **f for all blowing rates, assuming **f.
The temperature dependent value of ~|e was taken from Ref&
7. The radiation loss from the anode surface was computed according to
**f where **f is the mean of the fourth powers of the temperatures **f
and **f calculated analogously to equation (1).

A band viscometer is shown in Figure 2. It consists of two blocks

with flat surfaces held apart by shims. There is a small well in
the top in which the fluid or paste to be tested is placed. A tape
of cellulose acetate is pulled between the blocks and the tape pulls the
fluid or paste with it between the parallel faces of the blocks. In
normal use weights are hung on the end of the tape and allowed to pull
the tape and the material to be tested between the blocks. After it
has reached terminal velocity, the time for the tape to travel a known
distance is recorded. By the use of various weights, data for a force-rate
of shear graph can be obtained. The instrument used for this
work was a slight modification of that previously described. In
this test a **f tape was pulled between the blocks with a motor and
pulley at a rate of **f with a clearance of 0.002'' on each side of
the tape. This gives a rate of shear of **f. This, however, can only
be considered
approximate, as the diameter of the pulley was increased by the
build-up of tape and the tape was occasionally removed from the pulley
during the runs. The face of one block contained a hole 1/16''
in diameter which led to a
manometer for the measurement of the normal pressure. Although
there were only four fluids tested, it was apparent that there were
two distinct types. Two of the fluids showed a high-positive normal pressure
when undergoing shear, and two showed small negative pressures
which were negligible in comparison with the amount of the positive pressures
generated by the other two. Figure 3 shows the data on
a silicone fluid, labeled 12,500 ~cps which gave a high positive normal
pressure. Although the tape was run for over 1 hr&, a steady
state was not reached, and it was concluded that the reason for this was
that the back pressure of the manometer was built up from the material
fed from between the blocks and this was available at a very slow
rate. A system had to be used which did not depend upon the feeding of
the fluid into the manometer if measurements of the normal pressure
were to be made in a reasonable time. A back pressure was then introduced,
and the rise or fall of the material in the manometer indicated
which was greater, the normal pressure in the block or the back pressure.
By this method it was determined that the normal pressure exerted
by a sample of polybutene (molecular weight reported to be 770) was
over half an atmosphere. The actual pressure was not determined because
the pressure was beyond the upper limit of the apparatus on hand.

The two fluids which gave the small negative pressures were polybutenes
with molecular weights which were stated to be 520 and 300.
These are fluids which one would expect to be less viscoelastic or more
Newtonian because of their lower molecular weight. The maximum suction
was 3.25'' of test fluid measured from the top of the block,
and steady states were apparently reached with these fluids. It is presumed
that this negative head was associated with some geometric factor
of the assembly, since different readings were obtained with the same
fluid and the only apparent difference was the assembly and disassembly
of the apparatus. This negative pressure is not explained by the
velocity head **f since this is not sufficient to explain the readings
by several magnitudes. These experiments can be considered
exploratory only. However, they do demonstrate the presence of large
normal pressures in the presence of flat shear fields which were forecast
by the theory in the first part of the paper. They also give information
which will aid in the design of a more satisfactory instrument
for the measurement of the normal pressures. Such an instrument would
be useful for the characterization of many commercial materials as well
as theoretical studies. The elasticity as a parameter of fluids
which
is not subject to simple measurement at present, and it is a parameter
which is probably varying in an unknown manner with many commercial
materials. Such an instrument is expected to be especially useful
if it could be used to measure the elasticity of heavy pastes such as
printing inks, paints, adhesives, molten plastics, and bread dough, for
the elasticity is related to those various properties termed "length",
"shortness", "spinnability", etc&, which are usually judged
by subjective methods at present. The actual change **f
caused by a shear field is calculated by multiplying the pressure differential
times the volume, just as it is for any gravitational or osmotic
pressure head. If the volume is the molal volume, then **f is obtained
on a molal basis which is the customary terminology of the chemists.

Although the **f calculation is obvious by analogy with that

for gravitational field and osmotic pressure, it is interesting to confirm
it by a method which can be generalized to include related effects.
Consider a shear field with a height of ~<H> and a cross-sectional
area of ~<A> opposed by a manometer with a height of ~<h>
(referred to the same base as ~<H>) and a cross-sectional area
of ~<a>. If **f is the change per unit volume in Gibbs function
caused by the shear field at constant ~<P> and ~<T>, and ~|r
is the density of the fluid, then the total potential energy of
the system above the reference height is **f. **f is the work necessary
to fill the manometer column from the reference height to ~<h>.
The total volume of the system above the reference height is **f, and
~<h> can be eliminated to obtain an equation for the total potential
energy of the system in terms of ~<H>. The minimum total potential
energy is found by taking the derivative with respect to ~<H>
and equating to zero. This gives **f, which is the pressure. This
is interesting for it combines both the thermodynamic concept of a minimum
Gibbs function for equilibrium and minimum mechanical potential
energy for equilibrium. This method can be extended to include the
concentration differences caused by shear fields. The relation between
osmotic pressure and the Gibbs function may also be developed in an
analogous way. In the above development we have applied the thermodynamics
of equilibrium (referred to by some as thermostatics) to
the steady state. This can be justified thermodynamically in this case,
and this will be done in a separate paper which is being prepared.
This has an interesting analogy with the assumption stated by Philippoff
that "the deformational mechanics of <elastic solids> can be
applied to flowing solutions". There is one exception to the above
statement as has been pointed out, and that is that fluids can relax
by flowing into fields of lower rates of shear, so the statement should
be modified by stating that the mechanics are similar. If the mechanics
are similar, we can also infer that the thermodynamics will also
be similar. The concept of the strain energy as a Gibbs function
difference **f and exerting a force normal to the shearing face is
compatible with the information obtained from optical birefringence studies
of fluids undergoing shear. Essentially these birefringence studies
show that at low rates of shear a tension is present at 45` to
the direction of shear, and as the rate of shear increases, the direction
of the maximum tension moves asymptotically toward the direction
of shear. According to Philippoff, the recoverable shear ~<s> is
given by **f where ~|c is the angle of extinction. From this and
the force of deformation it should be possible to calculate the elastic
energy of deformation which should be equal to the **f calculated from
the pressure normal to the shearing face. There is another
means which should show the direction and relative value of the stresses
in viscoelastic fluids that is not mentioned as such in the literature,
and that is the shape of the suspended drops of low viscosity fluids
in shear fields. These droplets are distorted by the normal forces
just as a balloon would be pulled or pressed out of shape in one's
hands. These droplets appear to be ellipsoids, and it is mathematically
convenient to assume that they are. If they are not ellipsoids,
the conclusions will be a reasonable approximation. The direction of
the tension of minimum pressure is, of course, given by the direction
of the major axis of the ellipsoids. Mason and Taylor both show that
the major axis of the ellipsoids is at 45` at low rates of shear and
that it approaches the direction of shear with increased rates of shear.
(Some suspensions break up before they are near to the direction
of shear, and some become asymptotic to it without breakup.) This is,
of course, a similar type of behavior to that indicated by birefringence
studies. The relative forces can be calculated from the various
radii of curvature if we assume: (<A>) The surface tension is uniform
on the surface of the drop. (<B>) That because of the low viscosity
of the fluid, the internal pressure is the same in all directions.
(<C>) The kinetic effects are negligible. (<D>) Since the
shape of the drop conforms to the force field, it does not appreciably
affect the distribution of forces in the fluid. These are reasonable
assumptions with low viscosity fluids suspended in high viscosity
fluids which are subjected to low rates of shear. Just as the pressure
exerted by surface tension in a spherical drop is **f and the pressure
exerted by surface tension on a cylindrical shape is **f, the
pressure exerted by any curved surface is **f, where ~|g is the interfacial
tension and **f and **f are the two radii of curvature. This
formula is given by Rumscheidt and Mason. If ~<a> is the major
axis of an ellipsoid and ~<b> and ~<c> are the other two axes,
the radius of curvature in the ~<ab> plane at the end of the axis
is **f, and the difference in pressure along the ~<a> and ~<b>
axes is **f. There are no data published in the literature on
the shape of low viscosity drops to confirm the above formulas. However,
there are photographs of suspended drops of cyclohexanol phthalate
(viscosity 155 poises) suspended in corn syrup of 71 poises in a paper
by Mason and Bartok. This viscosity of the material in the drops
is, of course, not negligible. Measurements on the photograph in this
paper give **f at the maximum rate of shear of **f. If it is assumed
that the formula given by Lodge of **f, cosec 2~|c applies, the
pressure difference along the major axes can be calculated from the angle
of inclination of the major axis, and from this the interfacial tension
can be calculated. Its value was **f from the above data. This
appears to be high, as would be expected from the appreciable viscosity
of the material in the drops. It is appropriate to call attention
to certain thermodynamic properties of an ideal gas that are analogous
to rubber-like deformation. The internal energy of an ideal
gas depends on temperature only and is independent of pressure or volume.
In other words, if an ideal gas is compressed and kept at constant
temperature, the work done in compressing it is completely converted
into heat and transferred to the surrounding heat sink. This means that
work equals ~<q> which in turn equals **f. There is a
well-known relationship between probability and entropy which states that
**f, where ~\q is the probability that state (i&e&, volume
for an ideal gas) could be reached by chance alone. this is known as
conformational entropy. This conformational entropy is, in this case,
equal to the usual entropy, for there are no other changes or other
energies involved. Note that though the ideal gas itself contains no
additional energy, the compressed gas does exert an increased pressure.
The energy for any isothermal work done by the perfect gas must come
as thermal energy from its surroundings.
##

A proton magnetic resonance study of polycrystalline **f as a

function of magnetic field and temperature is presented. **f is paramagnetic,
and electron paramagnetic dipole as well as nuclear dipole effects
lead to line broadening. The lines are asymmetric and over the
range of field **f gauss and temperature **f the asymmetry increases with
increasing **f and decreasing <T>. An isotropic resonance shift
of **f to lower applied fields indicates a weak isotropic hyperfine
contact interaction. The general theory of resonance shifts is used to
derive a general expression for the second moment **f of a polycrystalline
paramagnetic sample and is specialized to **f. The theory predicts
a linear dependence of **f on **f, where |j is the experimentally
determined Curie-Weiss constant. The experimental second moment
**f conforms to the relation **f in agreement with theory. Hence, the
electron paramagnetic effects (slope) can be separated from the nuclear
effects (intercept). The paramagnetic dipole effects provide some
information on the particle shapes. The nuclear dipole effects provide
some information on the motions of the hydrogen nuclei, but the symmetry
of the **f bond in **f remains in doubt.

#INTRODUCTION#

THE
magnetic moment of an unpaired electron associated nearby may have a
tremendous influence on the magnetic resonance properties of nuclei. It
is important to consider and experimentally verify this influence since
quantitative nuclear resonance is becoming increasingly used in investigations
of structure. **f appeared to be well suited for the study
of these matters, since it is a normal paramagnet, with three unpaired
electrons on the chromium, its crystal structure is very simple,
and the unknown position of the hydrogen in the strong **f bond provides
structural interest. We first discuss the **f bond in **f.
We
then outline the theory of the interaction of paramagnetic dipoles
with nuclei and show that the theory is in excellent agreement with experiment.
Indeed it is possible to separate electron paramagnetic from
nuclear effects. The information provided by the electron paramagnetic
effects is then discussed, and finally the nuclear effects are interpreted
in terms of various motional-modified models of the **f bond
in **f. #**F BOND IN **F#

Theoretical studies of the hydrogen bond

generally agree that the **f bond will be linear in the absence of
peculiarities of packing in the solid. Moreover, it will be asymmetric
until a certain critical **f distance is reached, below which it will
become symmetric. There is ample evidence from many sources that the
**f bond in **f is symmetric. The **f distance in **f is 2.26 ~A.
There is evidence, though less convincing than for **f, that the **f
bond in nickel dimethylglyoxime is symmetric. Here the **f distance
is 2.44 ~A. A number of semiempirical estimates by various workers
lead to the conclusion that the **f bond becomes symmetric when the
**f bond length is about 2.4 to 2.5 ~A, but aside from the possible
example of nickel dimethylglyoxime there have been no convincing reports
of symmetric **f bonds. Douglass has studied the crystal structure
of **f by x-ray diffraction. He finds the structure contains an **f
bond with the **f distance of **f. There is, then, the possibility that
this **f bond is symmetric, although Douglass was unable to determine
its symmetry from his x-ray data. Douglass found **f to be
trigonal, Laue symmetry **f, with **f, **f. X-ray and experimental
density showed one formula unit in the unit cell, corresponding to a paramagnetic
ion density of **f. The x-ray data did not permit Douglass
to determine uniquely the space group, but a negative test for piezoelectricity
led him to assume a center of symmetry. Under this assumption
the space group must be **f and the following are the positions
of the atoms in the unit cell. **f. This space group requires the hydrogen
bond to be symmetric. Douglass found powder intensity calculations
and measurements to agree best for **f. These data lead to a structure
in which sheets of ~Cr atoms lie between two sheets of ~O
atoms. The ~O atoms in each sheet are close packed and each ~Cr
atom is surrounded by a distorted octahedron of ~O atoms. The **f
layers are stacked normal to the [111] axis with the lower oxygens
of one layer directly above the upper oxygens of the neighboring lower
layer, in such a manner that the repeat is every three layers. The
separate layers are joined together by hydrogen bonds. A drawing of the
structure is to be found in reference 6. The gross details
of the structure appear reasonable. The structure appears to be unique
among ~<R>OOH compounds, but is the same as that assumed by
**f. The bond angles and distances are all within the expected limits
and the volume per oxygen is about normal. However, the possible absence
of a center of symmetry not only moves the hydrogen atom off **f,
but also allows the oxygen atoms to become nonequivalent, with **f at
**f and **f at **f (space group **f), where **f represents the oxygens
on one side of the **f layers and **f those on the other side. However,
any oxygen nonequivalence would shorten either the already extremely
short **f interlayer distance of 2.55 ~A or the non-hydrogen-bonded
**f interlayer interactions which are already quite short at 2.58
~A. Hence it is difficult to conceive of a packing of the atoms in
this material in which the oxygen atoms are far from geometrical equivalence.
The only effect of lack of a center would then be to release
the hydrogen atoms to occupy general, rather than special, positions
along the [111] axis. If the **f bond is linear then there
are three reasonable positions for the hydrogen atoms: (1) The hydrogen
atoms are centered and hence all lie on a sheet midway between the
oxygen sheets; (2) all hydrogen atoms lie on a sheet, but the sheet
is closer to one oxygen sheet than to the other; (3) hydrogen atoms
are asymmetrically placed, either randomly or in an ordered way, so
that some hydrogen atoms are closer to the upper oxygen atoms while others
are closer to the lower oxygen atoms. Position (2) appears to us
to be unlikely in view of the absence of a piezoelectric effect and on
general chemical structural grounds. A randomization of "ups" and
"downs" is more likely than ordered "ups" and "downs" in
position (3) since the hydrogen atoms are well separated and so the
position of one could hardly affect the position of another, and also
since ordered "up" and "down" implies a larger unit cell, for
which no evidence exists. Therefore, the only unknown structural feature
would appear to be whether the hydrogen atoms are located symmetrically
(1) or asymmetrically (3).

#EXPERIMENTAL PROCEDURES#

_SAMPLES_
Douglass prepared his sample of **f by thermal decomposition of
aqueous chromic acid at 300-325`~C. Dr& Douglass was kind enough
to lend us about 5 grams of his material. This material proved
to be unsatisfactory, since we could not obtain reproducible results on
various portions of the sample. Subsequently, we learned from Douglass
that his sample contained a few percent **f impurity. Since **f
is ferromagnetic, we felt that any results obtained from the magnetically
contaminated **f would be suspect. Plane suggested another
preparation of **f which we used here. 500 ~ml of 1~<M> aqueous
**f
with 1 ~g **f added are heated in a bomb at 170`~C for 48 hours.
A very fine, gray solid (about 15 ~g) is formed, water-washed
by centrifugation, and dried at 110`~C. Differential thermal
analysis showed a very small endothermic reaction at 340`~C and
a large endothermic reaction at 470`~C. This latter reaction is
in accord with the reported decomposition of **f. Thermogravimetric analysis
showed a weight loss of 1.8% centered at 337`~C and another
weight loss of 10.8% at 463`~C. The expected weight loss for
**f going to **f and **f is 10.6%. Mass spectrometric analysis of
gases evolved upon heating to 410`~C indicated nitrogen oxides
and water vapor. The small reaction occurring at 337`~C is probably
caused by decomposition of occluded nitrates, and perhaps by a small
amount of some hydrous material other than **f. All subsequent measurements
were made on material which had been heated to 375`~C for
one hour. Emission spectra indicated **f calcium and all other impurities
much lower. Chromium analysis gave 58.8% ~Cr as compared
with 61.2% theory. However, **f adsorbs water from the atmosphere and
this may account for the low chromium analysis and high total weight
loss. The x-ray diffraction pattern of the material, taken with
~CuK|a radiation, indicated the presence of no extra lines and
was in good agreement with the pattern of Douglass. Magnetic analyses
by R& G& Meisenheimer of this laboratory indicated no ferromagnetic
impurities. **f was found to be paramagnetic with three unpaired
electron per chromium atom and a molecular susceptibility of **f,
where **f. For exactly three unpaired electrons the coefficient would
be 3.10. An infrared spectrum, obtained by H& A& Benesi and
R& G& Snyder of this laboratory, showed bands in the positions
found by Jones. Electron microscopic examination of the **f
sample showed it to be composed of nearly isotropic particles about 0.3|m
in diameter. The particles appeared rough and undoubtedly the single-crystal
domains are smaller than this. The x-ray data are consistent
with particle sizes of 1000 ~A or greater. We found no obvious
effects due to preferred orientation of the crystallites in this sample
nor would we expect to on the basis of the shape found from electron
microscopic examination.

#NUCLEAR MAGNETIC RESONANCE (~NMR)

MEASUREMENTS#

The magnetic resonance absorption was detected by employing

a Varian model **f broad line spectrometer and the associated 12-inch
electromagnet system. One measurement at 40 ~Mc/sec was obtained
with the Varian model **f unit. A bridged-<T> type of bridge was
used in the 10-16 ~Mc/sec range. The ~rf power level was maintained
small enough at all times to prevent obvious line shape distortions
by saturation effects. A modulation frequency of 40 ~cps with an
amplitude as small as possible, commensurate with reasonably good signal-to-noise
quality, was used. Background spectra were obtained in
all cases. The spectrometer was adjusted to minimize the amount of dispersion
mode mixed in with the absorption signal. A single value
of the thermal relaxation time **f at room temperature was measured
by the progressive saturation method. The value of **f estimated at
470 gauss was **f microseconds. A single measurement of the spin-spin
relaxation time **f was obtained at 10 ~Mc/sec by pulse methods.
This measurement was obtained by W& Blumberg of the University of
California, Berkeley, by observing the breadth of the free induction
decay signal. The value derived was 16 microseconds. Field
shifts were derived from the mean value of the resonance line, defined
as the field about which the first moment is zero. Second moments
of the spectra were computed by numerical integration. Corrections
were applied for modulation broadening, apparatus background, and
field shift. Spectra were obtained over the temperature range
of 77-294`K. For the low-temperature measurements the sample was
cooled
by a cold nitrogen gas flow method similar to that of Andrew and
Eades. The temperature was maintained to within about **f for the
period of time required to make the measurement (usually about one hour).
One sample, which had been exposed to the atmosphere after evacuation
at 375`~C, showed the presence of adsorbed water (about 0.3
~wt %) as evidenced by a weak resonance line which was very narrow
at room temperature and which disappeared, due to broadening, at low
temperature. The data reported here are either from spectra from which
the adsorbed water resonance could easily be eliminated or from spectra
of samples evacuated and sealed off at 375`~C which contain no
adsorbed water. The measured powder density of the **f used
here was about **f, approximately one-third that of the crystal density
(**f). Such a density corresponds to a paramagnetic ion density of
about **f. Spectra were obtained from a powdered sample having
the shape of a right circular cylinder with a height-to-diameter ratio
of 4:1. The top of the sample was nearly flat and the bottom hemispherical.
Spectra were also obtained from a sample in a spherical container
which was made by blowing a bubble on the end of a capillary glass
tube. The bubble was filled to the top and special precautions were
taken to prevent any sample from remaining in the capillary. Spectra
were also obtained from a third sample of **f which had been diluted
to three times its original volume with powdered, anhydrous alundum
(**f). This sample was contained in a cylindrical container similar to
that described above.
Polyphosphates gave renewed life to soap products at a time when surfactants
were a threat though expensive, and these same polyphosphates
spelled the decline of soap usage when the synergism between polyphosphates
and synthetic detergent actives was recognized and exploited.

The market today for detergent builders is quite diverse. The best
known field of application for builders is in heavy-duty, spray-dried
detergent formulations for household use. These widely advertised
products, which are used primarily for washing clothes, are based on
high-sudsing,
synthetic organic actives (sodium alkylbenzenesulfonates)
and contain up to 50% by weight of sodium tripolyphosphate or a mixture
of sodium tripolyphosphate and tetrasodium pyrophosphate. In the
household market, there are also low-sudsing detergent formulations
based on nonionic actives with about the same amount of phosphate builder;
light-duty synthetic detergents with much less builder; and the
dwindling built-soap powders as well as soap flakes and granules, none
of which are now nationally advertised. A well-publicized entrant
which has achieved success only recently is the built liquid detergent,
with which the major problem today is incorporation of builder and
active into a small volume using a sufficiently high builder/active
ratio. Hard-surface cleaning in household application is
represented by two classes of alkaline products: (1) the formulations
made expressly for machine dishwashers, and (2) the general-purpose
cleaners used for walls and woodwork. The better quality products in
both of these lines contain phosphate builders. In addition, many of
the hard-surface cleaners used for walls and woodwork had their genesis
in trisodium orthophosphate, which is still the major ingredient of
a number of such products. Many scouring powders now also contain phosphates.
These hard-surface cleaners are discussed in Chapter 28.

#THE
CLEANING PROCESS#

Cleaning or detergent action is entirely

a matter of surfaces. Wet cleaning involves an aqueous medium, a solid
substrate, soil to be removed, and the detergent or surface-active
material. An oversimplified differentiation between soft- and hard-surface
cleaning lies in the magnitude and kind of surface involved. One
gram of cotton has been found to have a specific surface area of **f.
In contrast, a metal coupon **f in size would have a magnitude from
100,000 to a million less. Even here there is room for some variation,
for metal surfaces vary in smoothness, absorptive capacity, and chemical
reactivity. Spring used a Brush surface-analyzer in a metal-cleaning
study and showed considerable differences in soil removal, depending
upon surface roughness. There are considerable differences between
the requirements for textile and hard-surface cleaning. Exclusive
of esthetic values, such as high- or low-foam level, perfume content,
etc&, the requirements for the organic active used in washing textiles
are high. No matter how they are formulated, a large number of organic
actives are simply not suitable for this application, since they
do not give adequate soil removal. This is best demonstrated by practical
washing tests in which cloth articles are repeatedly washed with
the same detergent formulation. A good formulation will keep the clothes
clean and white after many washings; whereas, with a poor formulation,
the clothes exhibit a build-up of "tattle-tale grey" and dirty
spots- sometimes with bad results even after the first wash. Since
practical washing procedures are both lengthy and expensive, a number
of laboratory tests have been developed for the numerical evaluation
of detergents. Harris has indicated that two devices, the Launder-Ometer
and Terg-O-Tometer are most widely used for rapid detergent
testing, and he has listed the commercially available standard soiled
fabrics. Also given are several laboratory wash procedures in general
use. The soiled fabrics used for rapid testing of detergent formulations
are made in such a way that only part of the soil is removed by
even the best detergent formulation in a single wash. In this way,
numerical values for the relative efficacy of various detergent formulations
can be obtained by measuring the reflectance (whiteness) of the
cloth swatches before and after washing. Soil redeposition is evaluated
by washing clean swatches with the dirty ones. As is the case with
the surface-active agent, the requirements for builders to be used in
detergent compositions for washing textiles are also high. Large numbers
of potential builders have been investigated, but none have been
found to be as effective as the polyphosphates over the relatively wide
range of conditions met in practice. The problems of hard-surface
cleaning are not nearly as complex. In hard-surface cleaning, the
inorganic salts are more important than the organic active. Indeed,
when the proper inorganic constituents are employed, practically any
wetting or surface-active agent will do a reasonably good job when present
in sufficient amount in a hard-surface cleaning formulation. Hydroxides,
orthophosphates, borates, carbonates, and silicates are important
inorganic ingredients of hard-surface cleaners. In addition, the
polyphosphates are also used, probably acting more as peptizing agents
than anything else. The importance of the inorganic constituents in
hard-surface cleaning has been emphasized in a number of papers.

#PHYSICAL
CHEMISTRY OF WASHING#

Although there is no question

but that the process of washing fabrics involves a number of phenomena
which are related together in an extremely complicated way and that
these phenomena and their interrelations are not well understood at the
present, this section attempts to present briefly an up-to-date picture
of the physical chemistry of washing either fabrics or hard surfaces.
The purpose of washing is, obviously, to remove soils which are arbitrarily
classed in the four major categories given below: _1._
Dirt, which is here defined as particulate material which is usually
inorganic and is very often extremely finely divided so as to exhibit
colloidal properties. _2._ Greasy soils, which are typified by
hydrocarbons and fats (esters of glycerol with long-chain organic acids).
_3._ Stains, which include the wide variety of nonparticulate
materials which give color even when present in very low concentration
on the soiled object. _4._ Miscellaneous soils, which primarily
include sticky substances and colorless liquids which evaporate to leave
a residue. The dirt on the soiled objects is mechanically
held by surface irregularities to some extent. However, a major factor
in binding dirt is the attraction between surfaces that goes under
the name of van der Waal's forces. This is a theoretically complicated
dipole interaction which causes any extremely small uncharged particle
to agglomerate with other small uncharged particles, or to stick
to an uncharged surface. Obviously, if colloidal particles bear charges
of opposite sign or, if one kind is charged and the other kind is
not, the attraction will be intensified and the tendency to agglomerate
will be greatly reinforced. Likewise, a charged particle will tend
to stick to an uncharged surface and <vice versa>, and a charged particle
will be very strongly attracted to a surface exhibiting an opposite
charge. In addition, dirt particles can be held onto a soiled surface
by sticky substances or by the surface tension of liquids, including
liquid greases. Greases, stains, and miscellaneous soils
are usually sorbed onto the soiled surface. In most cases, these soils
are taken up as liquids through capillary action. In an essentially
static system, an oil cannot be replaced by water on a surface unless
the interfacial tensions of the water phase are reduced by a surface-active
agent. The washing process whereby soils are removed consists
basically of applying mechanical action to loosen the dirt particles
and dried matter in the presence of water which helps to float off
the debris and acts, to some extent, as a dissolving and solvating
agent. Greasy soils are hardly removed by washing in plain water;
and
natural waters, in addition, often contain impurities such as calcium
salts which can react with soils to make them more difficult to remove.
Therefore, detergents are used. The detergent active is that substance
which primarily acts to remove greasy soils. The other constituents
in a built detergent assist in this and in the removal of dirty stains
and the hydrophilic sticky or dried soils. As is well known,
detergent actives belong to the chemical class consisting of moderately
high molecular weight and highly polar molecules which exhibit the
property of forming micelles in solution. Physicochemical investigations
of anionic surfactants, including the soaps, have shown that there
is little polymerization or agglomeration of the chain anions below
a certain region of concentration called the critical micelle concentration.
(1) Below the critical micelle concentration, monomers and some
dimers are present. (2) In the critical micelle region, there is
a rapid agglomeration or polymerization to give the micelles, which have
a degree of polymerization averaging around 60-80. (3) For anionics,
these micelles appear to be roughly spherical assemblages in which
the hydrocarbon tails come together so that the polar groups (the ionized
ends) face outward towards the aqueous continuous phase. Obviously
hydrophobic
(oleophilic) substances such as greases, oils, or particles having
a greasy or oily surface are more at home in the center of a micelle
than in the aqueous phase. Micelles can imbibe and hold a considerable
amount of oleophilic substances so that the micelle volume may be
increased as much as approximately two-fold. Although the matter has
not been unequivocally demonstrated, the available data show that micelles
in themselves do not contribute significantly to the detergency process.
Related to micelle formation is the technologically important
ability of detergent actives to congregate at oil-water interfaces
in such a manner that the polar (or ionized) end of the molecule is directed
towards the aqueous phase and the hydrocarbon chain towards the
oily phase. In the cleaning process, sorbed greasy soils become coated
in this manner with an oriented film of surfactant. Then during washing,
the greasy soil rolls back at the edges so that emulsified droplets
can disengage themselves from the sorbed oil mass, with the aid of
mechanical action, and enter the aqueous phase. Obviously, a substance
which is permanently or temporarily sorbed on the surface in place of
the soil will tend to accelerate this process and effectively push off
the greasy soil. Substances other than detergent actives also
tend to be strongly sorbed from aqueous media onto surfaces of other
contiguous condensed phases. This is particularly true of highly charged
ions, especially those ions which fall into the class of polyelectrolytes.
Whereas the usual organic surface-active agent is strongly
sorbed at oil-water interfaces, the highly charged ions are most strongly
sorbed at interfaces between water and insoluble materials exhibiting
an ionic structure (see Table 26-2 on p& 1678). Thus, for aqueous
media, we can think of the idealized organic active as an oleophilic
or hydrophobic surface-active agent, and of an idealized builder as
a oleophobic or hydrophilic surface-active agent. From the equilibrium
sorption data which are available, it seems logical to expect
that polyphosphate ions would be strongly sorbed on the surface of
the dirt (especially clay soils) so as to give it a greatly increased
negative charge. The charged particles then repel each other and are
also repelled from the charged surface, which almost invariably bears
a negative charge under washing conditions. The negatively charged dirt
particles then leave the surface and go into the aqueous phase. This
hypothesis is evolved in analogy to the demonstrated action of organic
actives in detergency. It does not consider the kinetic effects
of the phosphate builders on sorption-desorption phenomena which will
be discussed later (see pp& 1746-1748). The crude picture of
the detergency process thus far developed can be represented as: **f
The influence of mechanical action on the particles of free soil may
be compared to that of kinetic energy on a molecular scale. Freed soil
must be dispersed and protected against flocculation. Cleaned cloth
must be protected against the redeposition of dispersed soil. It is
evident that the requirements imposed by these effects upon any one
detergent constituent acting alone are severe. Upon consideration
of the variety of soils and fabrics normally encountered in the washing
process, it is little wonder that the use of a number of detergent
constituents having "synergistic" properties has gained widespread
acceptance. In the over-all process, it is difficult to assign a
"pure" role to each constituent of a built-detergent formulation;
and, indeed, there is no more reason to separate the interrelated roles
of the active, builder, antiredeposition agent, etc& than there
is to assign individual actions to each of the numerous isomers making
up a given commercial organic active.
##

The thermal exchange of chlorine between **f and liquid **f is

readily measurable at temperatures in the range of 180` and above. The
photochemical exchange occurs with a quantum yield of the order of
unity in the liquid phase at 65` using light absorbed only by the **f.
In the gas phase, with **f of **f and **f of **f, quantum yields
of the
order of **f have been observed at 85`. Despite extensive attempts
to obtain highly pure reagents, serious difficulty was experienced in
obtaining reproducible rates of reaction. It appears possible to set
a lower limit of about **f for the activation energy of the abstraction
of a chlorine atom from a carbon tetrachloride molecule by a chlorine
atom to form **f radical. The rate of the gas phase exchange reaction
appears to be proportional to the first power of the absorbed light
intensity indicating that the radical intermediates are removed at
the walls or by reaction with an impurity rather than by bimolecular
radical combination reactions.

#INTRODUCTION#

Because of the simplicity

of the molecules, isotopic exchange reactions between elemental
halogens and the corresponding carbon tetrahalides would appear to offer
particularly fruitful possibilities for obtaining unambiguous basic
kinetic data. It would appear that it should be possible to determine
unique mechanisms for the thermal and photochemical reactions in both
the liquid and gas phases and to determine values for activation energies
of some of the intermediate reactions of atoms and free radicals,
as well as information on the heat of dissociation of the carbon-halogen
bond. The reaction of chlorine with carbon tetrachloride seemed
particularly suited for such studies. It should be possible to prepare
very pure chlorine by oxidation of inorganic chlorides on a vacuum
system followed by multiple distillation of the liquid. It should be
possible to free carbon tetrachloride of any interfering substances by
the usual purification methods followed by prechlorination prior to
addition of radioactive chlorine. Furthermore, the exchange would not
be expected to be sensitive to trace amounts of impurities because it
would not be apt to be a chain reaction since the activation energy for
abstraction of chlorine by a chlorine atom would be expected to be
too high; also it would be expected that **f would compete very effectively
with any impurities as a scavenger for **f radicals. Contrary
to these expectations we have found it impossible to obtain the degree
of reproducibility one would wish, even with extensive efforts to prepare
especially pure reagents. We are reporting these investigations
here briefly because of their relevancy to problems of the study of apparently
simple exchange reactions of chlorine and because the results
furnish some information on the activation energy for abstraction of
chlorine atoms from carbon tetrachloride.

#EXPERIMENTAL#

_REAGENTS._-
Matheson highest purity tank chlorine was passed through a
tube of resublimed **f into an evacuated Pyrex system where it was condensed
with liquid air. It was then distilled at least three times
from a trap at -78` to a liquid air trap with only a small middle fraction
being retained in each distillation. The purified product was
stored at -78` in a tube equipped with a break seal. Of several
methods employed for tagging chlorine with radiochlorine, the exchange
of inactive chlorine with tagged aluminum chloride at room temperature
was found to be the most satisfactory. To prepare the latter,
silver chloride was precipitated from a solution containing **f obtained
from the Oak Ridge National Laboratory. The silver chloride was
fused under vacuum in the presence of aluminum chips with the resultant
product of **f which was sublimed into a flask on the vacuum line.
Previously purified chlorine was subsequently admitted and the exchange
was allowed to take place. The radiochlorine was stored at -78`
in a tube equipped with a break seal. Liter quantities of Mallinckrodt,
low sulfur, reagent grade carbon tetrachloride were saturated
with **f and **f and illuminated for about 50 hours with a 1000 watt
tungsten lamp at a distance of a few inches. The mixture was then extracted
with alkali and with water following which the carbon tetrachloride
was distilled on a Vigreux column, a 25% center cut being retained
which was then degassed under vacuum in the presence of **f. Purified
inactive chlorine was then added from one of the tubes described
above and the mixture frozen out and sealed off in a flask equipped with
a break seal. This chlorine-carbon tetrachloride solution was illuminated
for a day following which the flask was resealed onto a vacuum
system and the excess chlorine distilled off. The required amount of
carbon tetrachloride was distilled into a series of reaction cells on
a manifold on a vacuum line. The desired amounts of inactive chlorine
and radioactive chlorine were likewise condensed in these cells on
the vacuum line following which they were frozen down and the manifold
as a whole was sealed off. The contents of the manifold for liquid phase
experiments were then mixed by shaking, redistributed to the reaction
tubes, frozen down, and each tube was then sealed off. The reactants
for the gas phase experiments were first frozen out in a side-arm
attached to the manifold and then allowed to distil slowly into the manifold
of pre-cooled reaction cells before sealing off. This method
in general solved the problem of obtaining fairly equal concentrations
of reactants in each of the six cells from a set. _REACTION CONDITIONS
AND ANALYSIS._- The samples for liquid phase thermal reaction
studies were prepared in Pyrex capillary tubing 2.5 mm& i&d& and
about 15 cm& long. In a few experiments the tubes were made from
standard 6 mm& i&d& Pyrex tubing of 1 mm& wall thickness. Both
types of tube withstood the pressure of approximately 20 atmospheres
exerted by the carbon tetrachloride at 220`. The photochemical reaction
cells consisted of 10 mm& i&d& Pyrex tubing, 5.5 cm&
long, diffraction effects being minimized by the fact that the light passed
through only liquid-glass interfaces and not gas-glass interfaces.
These cells were used rather than square Pyrex tubing because
of the tendency of the latter to shatter when thawing frozen carbon
tetrachloride. The round cells were reproducibly positioned in the
light beam which entered the thermostated mineral oil-bath through a window.
Two types of light source were used, a thousand watt projection
lamp and an ~AH6 high pressure mercury arc. The light was filtered
by the soft glass window of the thermostat thus ensuring that
only light absorbed by the chlorine and not by the carbon tetrachloride
could enter the reaction cell. Relative incident light intensities
were measured with a thermopile potentiometer system. Changes of intensity
on the cell were achieved by use of a wire screen and by varying
the distance of the light source from the cell. Following reaction
the cells were scratched with a file and opened under a 20% aqueous
sodium iodide solution. Carrier **f was added and the aqueous and
organic phases were separated (cells containing gaseous reactants were
immersed in liquid air before opening under sodium iodide). After
titration of the liberated **f with **f, aliquots of the aqueous and
of the organic
phase were counted in a solution-type Geiger tube. In the liquid
phase runs the amount of carbon tetrachloride in each reaction tube was
determined by weighing the tube before opening and weighing the fragments
after emptying. The fraction of exchange was determined as the
ratio of the counts/minute observed in the carbon tetrachloride to the
counts/minute calculated for the carbon tetrachloride fractions for
equilibrium distribution of the activity between the chlorine and carbon
tetrachloride, empirically determined correction being made for the
difference in counting efficiency of **f in **f and **f.
#RESULTS#

_THE THERMAL REACTION._- In studying the liquid phase thermal

reaction, some 70 tubes from 12 different manifold fillings were prepared
and analyzed. Experiments were done at 180, 200, 210, 220`. Following
observation of the fact that the reaction rates of supposedly
identical reaction mixtures prepared on the same filling manifold and
exposed under identical conditions often differed by several hundred per
cent&, a systematic series of experiments was undertaken to see whether
the difficulty could be ascribed to the method of preparing the chlorine,
to the effects of oxygen or moisture or to the effect of surface
to volume ratio in the reaction tubes. In addition to the method
described in the section above, chlorine and radiochlorine were prepared
by the electrolysis of a **f eutectic on the vacuum line, and by exchange
of **f with molten **f. Calcium hydride was substituted for **f
as a drying agent for carbon tetrachloride. No correlation between
these variables and the irreproducibility of the results was found.

The reaction rates observed at 200` ranged from **f of the chlorine
exchanged per hour to 0.7 exchanged per hour. In most cases the
chlorine
concentration was about **f. Sets of reaction tubes containing 0.2 of
an atmosphere of added oxygen in one case and added moisture in another,
both gave reaction rates in the range of 0.1 to 0.4 of the chlorine
exchanged per hour. No detectable reaction was found at room temperature
for reaction mixtures allowed to stand up to 5 hours. _THE LIQUID
PHASE PHOTOCHEMICAL REACTION._- The liquid phase photochemical
exchange between chlorine and carbon tetrachloride was more reproducible
than the thermal exchange, although still erratic. The improvement
was most noticeable in the greater consistency among reaction cells
prepared as a group on the same manifold. Rather large differences were
still found between reaction cells from different manifold fillings.
Some 80 reaction tubes from 13 manifold fillings were illuminated in
the temperature range from 40 to 85` in a further endeavor to determine
the cause of the irreproducibility and to obtain information on
the activation energy and the effect of light intensity. In all cases
there was readily measurable exchange after as little as one hour of
illumination. By comparing reaction cells sealed from the same manifold
temperature dependency corresponding to activation energies ranging
from 11 to 18 **f was observed while dependence on the first power of
the light intensity seemed to be indicated in most cases. It
was possible to make estimates of the quantum yield by observing the extent
of reduction of a uranyl oxalate actinometer solution illuminated
for a known time in a typical reaction cell and making appropriate conversions
based on the differences in the absorption spectra of uranyl
oxalate and of chlorine, and considering the spectral distribution of
the light source. These estimates indicated that the quantum yield
for the exchange of chlorine with liquid carbon tetrachloride at 65`
is of the order of magnitude of unity. When typical reaction
cells to which 0.3 of an atmosphere of oxygen had been added were illuminated,
chlorine and phosgene were produced. Exchange was also observed
in these cells, which had chlorine present at **f. _THE PHOTOCHEMICAL
EXCHANGE IN THE GAS PHASE._- Although there was some variation
in results which must be attributed either to trace impurities or
to variation in wall effects, the photochemical exchange in the gas phase
was sufficiently reproducible so that it seemed meaningful to compare
the reaction rates in different series of reaction tubes for the purpose
of obtaining information on the effect of chlorine concentration
and of carbon tetrachloride concentration on the reaction rate. Data
on such comparisons together with data on the effect of light intensity
are given in Table /1., In series /1, the relative light
intensity was varied by varying the distance of the lamp from the
reaction cell over the range from 14.7 to 29.2 cm&. The last column
shows the rate of exchange that would have been oserved at a relative
intensity of 4 (14.7 cm& distance) calculated on the assumptions that
the incident light intensity is inversely proportional to the square
of the distance of the lamp from the cell and that the rate is directly
proportional to the incident light intensity. Direct proportionality
of the rate to the incident intensity has also been assumed in obtaining
the value in the last column for the fourth sample of series /2,
where the light intensity was reduced by use of a screen.
The Poynting-Robertson effect (Robertson, 1937; Wyatt and Whipple,
1950), which is a retardation of the orbital motion of particles
by the relativistic aberration of the repulsive force of the impinging
solar radiation, causes the dust to spiral into the sun in times much
shorter than the age of the Earth. The radial velocity varies inversely
as the particle size- a 1000-~|m-diameter particle near the
orbit of Mars would reach the sun in about 60 million years. Whipple
(1955) extends the effects to include the solar-corpuscular-radiation
pressure, which increases both the minimum particle size and the drag.
Further, the corpuscular radiation, <i&e&>, the solar-wind protons,
must sputter away the surface atoms of the dust and cause a slow
diminution in size, with a resultant increase in both the Poynting-Robertson
effect and the ratio of the repulsive force to the gravitational
force. The Poynting-Robertson effect causes the semi-major
axis of orbits to diminish more rapidly than the semi-minor axis,
with a consequent tendency toward circular orbits as the particles move
toward the sun. Also, planetary gravitational attraction increases
the dust concentration near the plane of the ecliptic as the sun is
approached. At one astronomical unit from the sun (the Earth's distance)
the dust orbits are probably nearly circular. If such is the case,
the particles within a distance of about **f ~km of the Earth
will
have, relative to the Earth, a kinetic energy less than their potential
energy and they will be captured into orbits about the Earth. De
Jager (1955) has calculated the times required for these particles
to reach the atmosphere under the influence of the Poynting-Robertson
effect, which in this case causes the orbits to become more and more
eccentric
without changing the semi-major axis. This effect can give rise to
a blanket of micrometeorites around the Earth. Since there is
a continual loss of micrometeoritic material in space because of the
radiation effects, there must be a continual replenishment: otherwise,
micrometeorites would have disappeared from interplanetary space. There
are several possible sources. According to Whipple (1955), cometary
debris is sufficient to replenish the material spiraling into the
sun, maintaining a fairly steady state. Asteroidal collisions are also
thought to contribute material. It is also possible that some of
the dust in the vicinity of the Earth originated from meteoritic impacts
upon the moon.

#5.3 DIRECT MEASUREMENTS OF MICROMETEORITE FLUX#

One cannot make a very satisfactory guess about the micrometeorite

flux in space. Even in the neighborhood of the Earth, where information
has been obtained both directly and indirectly, the derived flux
values vary by at least four orders of magnitude. This large discrepancy
demonstrates the inadequacies of the experimental methods and the
lack of understanding of the various phenomena involved. Beyond a
few million kilometers from the Earth, but still in the region of the
Earth's orbit, a prediction of the flux of dust is even more unreliable.
At greater distances from the sun, the situation is still less
certain. There are several sources of evidence on the micrometeorite
environment. Direct information has been obtained from rockets
and satellites equipped with impact sensors. In addition, the size
distribution obtained from visual and radar observations of meteors may
be extrapolated to the micrometeorite domain. From the brightness of
the ~F component of the solar corona and the brightness of the zodiacal
light, an estimate of the particle sizes, concentrations, and spatial
distribution can be derived for regions of space near the ecliptic
plane. Another important source of evidence only recently receiving
much attention is the analysis of atmospheric dust for a meteoritic
component. The cores of deep-sea sediments and content of collectors
in remote regions are valuable in this category. The data provide a
measure of the total mass of cosmic material incident upon the Earth.

The direct evidence on the micrometeorite environment near the

Earth is
obtained from piezoelectric sensors (essentially microphones)
and from wire gages; these instruments are installed on rockets, satellites,
and space probes. Statistically, the most significant data have
been collected from the sensors on 1958 Alpha (Explorer /1,),
1958 Delta 2 (Sputnik /3,), and 1959 Eta (Vanguard /3,). These
vehicles, with large sensitive areas, have collected data for long enough
times to give reliable impact rates for the periods of exposure.
Many other vehicles with smaller sensitive-area exposure-time products
contribute some information. The impact rate on 1958 Alpha
for 153 events was **f for particles of mass greater than **f (Dubin,
1960); this mass threshold was derived from the detector calibration
and an assumed impact velocity of **f. The data show daily and diurnal
variations. Ninety per cent of the 153 recorded impacts occurred
between midnight and noon, and from day to day the variation of the rate
was as much as an order of magnitude. One may conclude that most
of the detected micrometeoritic material is concentrated in orbital streams
which intersect the Earth's orbit. There have been contradictory
reports from 1958 Delta 2, and the data quoted here are believed
to be the more reliable. On May 15, a very large increase occurred
with **f of mass between **f and **f; for the next two days,
the impact rate was **f; and for the next nine days, the impact rate
was less than **f (Nazarova, 1960). The data for the first day indicate
a meteor stream with a very high concentration of particles and may
have led to the high estimates of micrometeorite flux. Preliminary
data from 1959 Eta give an average impact rate of **f for masses
larger than **f for about 1000 events in a 22-day period (LaGow
and Alexander, 1960). The day-to-day rate varied by less than a factor
of 4.5. The data have not yet been analyzed for diurnal variations.
Note that the mass threshold is four times that of 1958 Alpha and
that the flux is one fifth as large. If one assumes that the average
flux did not change between measurements, a mass-distribution curve is
obtained which relates the flux of particles larger than a given radius
to the inverse 7/2 power of the radius. Space probes have
yielded little information. Pioneer /1, recorded a decrease in flux
with distance from the Earth on the basis of 11 counts in 9 hours. With
detectors
sensitive to three mass intervals and based on a few counts,
the second and third Russian space probes indicate that the flux
of the smallest particles detected is less than that of larger ones.
Being based on so few events, these results are of dubious validity.

The calibration of piezoelectric sensors in terms of the particle

parameters is very uncertain. Many workers believe that the response
is proportional to the incident momentum of the particles, a relation
deduced from laboratory results linearly extrapolated to meteoritic
velocities. However, one must expect that vaporization and ejection
of material by hypervelocity impacts would cause a deviation from a linear
relationship. In the United States, most of the sensors are calibrated
by dropping small spheres on their sensitive surfaces. The
Russian experimenters claim that only a small fraction of the impulse
from the sensors is caused by the incident momentum with the remainder
being momentum of ejected material from the sensor. This "ejection"
momentum is linearly related to the particle energy. They quote
about the same mass threshold as that of the U&S& apparatus, but
a momentum threshold about 40 times greater. There is a difference
in the experimental arrangement, in that the U&S& microphones are
attached directly to the vehicle skin while the Russian instruments
are isolated from the skin. The threshold mass is derived from the
momentum threshold with the assumption of a mean impact velocity of **f
in the U&S& work and **f in the
U&S&S&R& work. The threshold
mass of about **f corresponds to a 10-~|m-diameter sphere of
density **f. However, the conversion from mass to size is unreliable,
since many photographic meteors give evidence of a fluffy, loosely bound
meteorite structure with densities as low as **f. To what extent
such low density applies to micrometeorites is unknown. The velocity
value used is also open to some question; if a substantial fraction
of the dust is orbiting about the Earth, only about one third the above-mentioned
average velocity should be used in deriving the mass. Zodiacal
light and the <gegenschein> give some evidence for such a dust
blanket, a phenomenon also to be expected if the dust before capture
is in circular orbits about the sun, as indicated by the trend of the
smaller visible meteors. The diurnal variation in the observed flux
may be partly due to the dependence of the detector sensitivity on the
incident velocity. The flux of micrometeorites in the neighborhood
of the Earth can be estimated by extrapolation from radar and
visual meteor data. A summary of meteorite data, prepared by Whipple
(1958) on the basis of photographic, visual, and radar evidence,
is given in Table 5-1. From an estimated mass of 25 ~g for a
zero-magnitude meteorite, the other masses are derived with the assumption
of a mass decrease by a factor of 2.512 for each unit increase in
magnitude. The radius is calculated from the mass by assuming spheres
of density **f except for the smallest particles, which must have a
higher mass density to remain in the solar system in the presence of
solar-radiation pressure. The flux values are for all particles with
masses greater than the given mass and are based on an estimate of the
numbers of visual meteors. It is assumed that the flux values increase
by a factor of 2.512 per magnitude, in accordance with the opinion
that the total mass flux in each unit range in magnitude is constant.
The values agree with the data from 1958 Alpha and 1959 Eta. The figures
in the next-to-last column are derived with the assumption of 50
per cent shielding by the Earth; hence, these figures apply immediately
above the Earth's atmosphere. The unshielded flux is given
in the last column; these figures constitute the best estimate for the
flux in interplanetary space near the Earth. Of course, if there
is a dust blanket around the Earth, the fluxes in interplanetary space
should be less than the figures given here. Note that the mass
scale is one to two orders of magnitude greater than some previously
used; for example, Jacchia (1948) derived a scale of 0.15 ~g for
a **f, zero-magnitude meteorite. The older scales were based on theoretical
estimates of the conversion efficiency of kinetic energy into
light. The mass scale used in Table 5-1 was derived on the assumption
that the motion of the glowing trail is related to the momentum
transfer to the trail by the meteorite, permitting the calculation of
the mass if the velocity is known (Cook and Whipple, 1958).
A concentration distribution has been derived from radar observations
sensitive to the fifteenth magnitude (Manning and Eshleman, 1959).
Extrapolation of this relationship through the thirtieth magnitude covers
the range of micrometeorites. The approximate equation is **f,
where ~<n>
is the number of **f with electron line-density greater than
or equal to **f, and ~<q> is proportional to the mass of the meteorite.
Therefore, ~<n> is inversely proportional to the radius cubed
and in fair agreement with the inverse 7/2 power derived from 1958 Alpha
and 1959 Eta data. At the fifteenth magnitude, **f, and at the twenty-fifth
magnitude, **f. These extrapolated fluxes are about an order
of magnitude less than the values from the satellite data and the
figures in Whipple's table. The extrapolation may be in error for
several reasons. The observational data determining the concentration
distribution have a range of error which is magnified in the extension
into the micrometeorite region. The solar-electromagnetic- and
corpuscular-radiation
pressure and the associated Poynting-Robertson effect
increase in effectiveness as the particle size decreases and modify
the distribution and limit sizes to larger than a few microns. Also,
it has been suggested that the source of all or part of the dust may
not be the same as that for visual or radar meteorites (Best, 1960),
and the same distribution would not be expected.

#5.4. INDIRECT INDICATIONS

OF MICROMETEORITE FLUX#

A measure of the total mass accretion

of meteoritic material by the Earth is obtained from analyses of
deep-sea sediments and dust collected in remote regions (Pettersson,
1960).
Most meteoritic material, by the time it reaches the Earth's
surface, has been reduced to dust or to spherules of ablated material
in its passage through the atmosphere. For all meteorites, the average
nickel content is about 2.5 per cent. This is much higher than the
nickel content of terrestrial dusts and sediments and provides a basis
for the determination of the meteoritic mass influx. Present data
indicate an accretion of about **f tons per year over the entire globe,
or about **f.

#BIOLOGICAL WARFARE#

Biological warfare is the intentional use of

living microorganisms or their toxic products for the purpose of destroying
or reducing the military effectiveness of man. It is the exploitation
of the inherent potential of infectious disease agents by scientific
research and development, resulting in the production of ~BW
weapons systems. Man may also be injured secondarily by damage to
his food crops or domestic animals. Biological warfare is considered
to be primarily a strategic weapon. The major reason for this
is that it has no quick-kill effect. The incubation period of infectious
disease, plus a variable period of illness even before a lethal effect,
render this weapon unsuitable for hand-to-hand encounter. A man
can be an effective fighting machine throughout the incubation period
of most infectious diseases. Thus, an enemy would probably use this weapon
for attack on static population centers such as large cities.

An important operational procedure in ~BW for an enemy would

be to create an areosol or cloud of agent over the target area. This
concept has stimulated much basic research concerning the behavior of
particulate biological materials, the pathogenesis of respiratory infections,
the medical management of such diseases and defense against their
occurrence. The biological and physical properties of infectious
particles have been studied intensively during the past fifteen
years. Much new equipment and many unique techniques have been developed
for the quantitative exposure of experimental animals to aerosols
of infectious agents contained in particles of specified dimensional
characteristics. Much information has been gathered relative to quantitative
sampling and assesment techniques. Much of the older experimental
work on respiratory infections was accomplished by very artificial
procedures. The intranasal instillation of a fluid suspension of infectious
agent in an anesthetized animal is far different from exposure,
through natural respiration, to aerosolized organisms. The
importance of particle size in such aerosols has been thoroughly demonstrated.
The natural anatomical and physiological defensive features
of the upper respiratory tract, such as the turbinates of the nose and
the cilia of the trachea and larger bronchi, are capable of impinging
out the larger particles to which we are ordinarily exposed in our daily
existence. Very small particles, however, in a size range of 1 to
4 microns in diameter are capable of passing these impinging barriers
and entering the alveolar bed of the lungs. This area is highly susceptible
to infection. The entrance and retention of infectious particles
in the alveoli amounts almost to an intratissue inoculation. The
relationship between particle size and infectious dose is illustrated
in Table 1. In considering ~BW defense, it must be recognized
that a number of critical meterological parameters must be met for
an aerosol to exhibit optimum effect. For example, bright sunlight
is rapidly destructive for living microorganisms suspended in air. There
are optimal humidity requirements for various agents when airborne.
Neutral or inversion meteorological conditions are necessary for a
cloud to travel along the surface. It will rise during lapse conditions.
There are, of course, certain times during the 24-hour daily cycle
when most of these conditions will be met. Certain other properties
of small particles, in addition to those already mentioned in
connection with penetration of the respiratory tract, are noteworthy
in defense considerations. The smaller the particle the further it will
travel downwind before settling out. An aerosol of such small particles.
moreover, diffuses through structures in much the same manner as
a gas. There may be a number of secondary effects resulting from diffusion
through buildings such as widespread contamination of kitchens,
restaurants, food stores, hospitals, etc&. Depending on the organism,
there may be multiplication in some food or beverage products, i&e&,
in milk for example. The secondary consequences from this could
be very serious and must be taken into consideration in planning for
defense. Something of the behavior of clouds of small particles
can be illustrated by the following field trials: In the
first trial an inert substance was disseminated from a boat travelling
some ten miles off shore under appropriately selected meteorological
conditions. Zinc cadmium sulfide in particles of 2 microns in size were
disseminated. This material fluoresces under ultraviolet light which
facilitates its sampling and assessment. Four hundred and fifty pounds
was disseminated while the ship was traveling a distance of 156
miles. Figure 1 describes the results obtained in this trial.
The particles traveled a maximum detected distance of some 450 miles.
From these dosage isopleths it can be seen that an area of over 34,000
square miles was covered. These dosages could have been increased
by increasing the source strength which was small in this case.
The behavior of a biological aerosol, on a much smaller scale, is illustrated
by a specific field trial conducted with a non-pathogenic organism.
An aqueous suspension of the spores of <B& subtilis, var&
niger>, generally known as <Bacillus globigii>, was aerosolized
using commercially available nozzles. A satisfactory cloud was produced
even though these nozzles were only about 5 per cent efficient in
producing an initial cloud in the size range of 1 to 5 microns. In this
test, 130 gallons of a suspension, having a count of **f organisms
per ~ml, or a total of approximately **f spores, was aerosolized. The
spraying operation was conducted from the rear deck of a small Naval
vessel, cruising two miles off-shore and vertical to an on-sure breeze.
Spraying continued along a two-mile course. This operation
was started at 5:00 p&m& and lasted for 29 minutes. There was
a slight lapse condition, a moderate fog, and 100 per cent relative
humidity. A network of sampling stations had been set up on shore. These
were located at the homes of Government employees, in Government
Offices, buildings and reservations within the trial area. A rough
attempt was made to characterize the vertical profile of the cloud by
taking samples from outside the windows on the first, ninth, and fifteenth
floors of a Government office building. All samplers were
operated for a period of two hours except one, which was operated
for four hours. In this instance, there was a dosage of 562 during the
first two hours and a total dosage of 1980 for the four-hour period,
a four-fold increase. This suggests that the sampling period, particularly
at the more distant locations, should have been increased.

As can be seen from Figure 2, an extensive area was covered by this

aerosol. The maximum distance sampled was 23 miles from the source.
As can be seen from these dosage isopleths, approximately 100 square
miles was covered within the area sampled. It is quite likely that
an even greater area was covered, particularly downwind. The dosages
in the three levels of the vertical profile were: **f This was
not, of course, enough sampling to give a satisfactory description
of the vertical diffusion of the aerosol. A number of unique medical
problems might be created when man is exposed to an infectious
agent through the respiratory route rather than by the natural portal
of entry.
Some agents have been shown to be much more toxic or infectious
to experimental animals when exposed to aerosols of optimum particle
size than by the natural portal. Botulinal toxin, for example, is several
thousand-fold more toxic by this route than when given per os.
In some instances a different clinical disease picture may result from
this route of exposure, making diagnosis difficult. In tularemia produced
by aerosol exposure, one would not expect to find the classical
ulcer of "rabbit fever" on a finger. An enemy would obviously
choose an agent that is believed to be highly infectious. Agents
that are known to cause frequent infections among laboratory workers
such as those causing ~Q fever, tularemia, brucellosis, glanders,
coccidioidomycosis, etc&, belong in this category. An agent
would
likely be selected which would possess sufficient viability and virulence
stability to meet realistic minimal logistic requirements. It
is, obviously, a proper goal of research to improve on this property.
In this connection it should be capable of being disseminated without
excessive destruction. Moreover, it should not be so fastidious in
its growth requirements as to make production on a militarily significant
scale improbable. An aggressor would use an agent against
which there was a minimal naturally acquired or artificially induced
immunity in a target population. A solid immunity is the one effective
circumstance whereby attack by a specific agent can be neutralized.
It must be remembered, however, that there are many agents for which
there is no solid immunity and a partial or low-grade immunity may be
broken by an appropriate dose of agent. There is a broad spectrum
of organisms from which selection for a specified military purpose
might be made. An enemy might choose an acutely debilitating microorganism,
a chronic disease producer or one causing a high rate of lethality.

It is possible that certain mutational forms may be produced

such as antibiotic resistant strains. Mutants may also be developed
with changes in biochemical properties that are of importance in
identification. All of these considerations are of critical importance
in considering defense and medical management. Biological agents
are, of course, highly host-specific. They do not destroy physical
structures as is true of high explosives. This may be of overriding
importance in considering military objectives. The question
of epidemic disease merits some discussion. Only a limited effort has
been devoted to this problem. Some of those who question the value
of ~BW have assumed that the <only> potential would be in the establishment
of epidemics. They then point out that with our present lack
of knowledge of all the factors concerned in the rise and fall
of epidemics, it is unlikely that a planned episode could be initiated.
They argue further (and somewhat contradictorily) that our knowledge
and resources in preventive medicine would make it possible to control
such an outbreak of disease. this is why this approach to ~BW
defense has not been given major attention. Our major problem
is what an enemy might accomplish in an initial attack on a target. This,
of course, does not eliminate from consideration for this purpose
agents that are associated naturally with epidemic disease. A hypothetical
example will illustrate this point. Let us assume that it would
be possible for an enemy to create an aerosol of the causative agent
of epidemic typhus (<Rickettsia prowazwki>) over City ~A and
that a large number of cases of typhus fever resulted therefrom. No epidemic
was initiated nor was one expected because the population in City
~A was not lousy. Lousiness is a prerequisite for epidemic typhus.
In this case, then, the military objective was accomplished with
an epidemic agent solely through the results secured in the initial
attack. This was done with full knowledge that there would be no epidemic.
On the other hand, a similar attack might have been made on City
~B whose population was known to be lousy. One might expect some
spread of the disease in this case resulting in increased effectiveness
of the attack. The major defensive problems are concerned
with the possibility of overt military delivery of biological agents from
appropriate disseminating devices. It should be no more difficult
to deliver such devices than other weapons. The same delivery vehicles-
whether they be airplanes, submarines or guided missiles- should
be usable. If it is possible for an enemy to put an atomic bomb on
a city, it should be equally possible to put a cloud of biological agent
over that city. Biological agents are, moreover, suitable
for delivery through enemy sabotage which imposes many problems in defense.
A few obvious target areas of great importance might be mentioned.
The air conditioning and ventilating systems of large buildings are
subject to attack. America is rapidly becoming a nation that uses
processed, precooked and even predigested foods. This is an enormous
industry that is subject to sabotage. One must include the preparation
of soft drinks and the processing of milk and milk products. Huge
industries are involved also in the production of biological products,
drugs and cosmetics which are liable to this type of attack.

A variety of techniques have been directed toward the isolation

and study of blood group antibodies. These include low-temperature
ethanol (Cohn) fractionation, electrophoresis, ultracentrifugation and
column chromatography on ion exchange celluloses. Modifications of
the last technique have been applied by several groups of investigators.
Abelson and Rawson, using a stepwise elution scheme, fractionated
whole sera containing ~ABO and ~Rh antibodies on diethylaminoethyl
~DEAE cellulose and carboxymethyl cellulose. Speer
and coworkers, in a similar study of blood group antibodies of whole
sera, used a series of gradients for elution from ~DEAE-cellulose.
Fahey and Morrison used a single, continuous gradient at constant
~pH for the fractionation of anti-~A and anti-~B agglutinins
from preisolated ~|g-globulin samples. In the
present work whole sera have been fractionated by chromatography on
~DEAE-cellulose
using single gradients similar to those described
by Sober and Peterson, and certain chemical and serological properties
of the fractions containing antibodies of the ~ABO and ~Rh
systems have been described.

#MATERIALS AND METHODS#

_SAMPLES._
Serum samples were obtained from normal group ~A, group ~B
and group ~O donors. Three of the anti-~Rh sera used were taken
from recently sensitized individuals. One contained complete antibody
and had a titer of 1:512 in saline. The second contained incomplete
antibody and showed titers of 1:256 in albumin and 1:2048 by
the indirect Coombs test. The third, containing the mixed type of complete
and incomplete antibodies, had titers of 1:256 in saline, 1:512
in albumin and 1:1024 by the indirect Coombs test. In addition
one serum was obtained from a donor (R& E&) who had been sensitized
6 years previously. This serum exhibited titers of 1:16 in albumin
and 1:256 by the indirect Coombs test. These antibody titers
were determined by reaction with homozygous **f red cells. _SEROLOGICAL
TECHNIQUE._ Anti-~A and anti-~B activities were determined
in fractions from the sera of group ~A, group ~B or group ~O
donors by the following tube agglutination methods. One drop of each
sample was added to one drop of a 2% suspension of group **f or
group ~B red cells in a small **f test tube. In several instances
group ~O cells were also used as controls. The red cells were used
within 2 days after donation and were washed with large amounts of saline
before use. The mixtures of sample plus cell suspension were allowed
to stand at room temperature for 1 ~hr. the tubes were then
centrifuged at 1000 ~rpm for 1 ~min and examined macroscopically for
agglutination. For the albumin method, equal volumes of 30% bovine
albumin, sample and 2% cells suspended in saline were allowed to
stand at room temperature for 1 ~hr and then were centrifuged at 1000
~rpm for 1 ~min. All samples were tested by both the saline and
albumin methods. The activities of fractions of sera containing ~Rh
antibodies were tested by the saline, albumin and indirect Coombs
techniques. Homozygous and heterozygous **f cells, **f and homozygous
and heterozygous **f cells were used to test each sample; however,
in the
interest of clarity and conciseness only the results obtained with
homozygous **f and homozygous **f cells will be presented here.
The saline and albumin tests were performed as described for the ~ABO
samples except that the mixture was incubated for 1 ~hr at 37`~C
before centrifugation. The saline tubes were saved and used
for
the indirect Coombs test in the following manner. The cells were washed
three times with saline, anti-human serum was added, the cells were
resuspended, and the mixture was centrifuged at 1000 ~rpm for 1 ~min
and examined for agglutination. The anti-human sera used were prepared
by injecting whole human serum into rabbits. Those antisera shown
by immunoelectrophoresis to be of the "broad spectrum" type were
selected for used in the present study. The red cells for the
~Rh antibody tests were used within 3 days after drawing except
for the **f cells, which had been glycerolized and stored at -20`~C
for approximately 1 year. These cells were thawed at 37`~C for 30
~min and were deglycerolized by alternately centrifuging and mixing
with descending concentrations of glycerol solutions (20, 18, 10, 8, 4
and 2%). The cells were then washed three times with saline and resuspended
to 2% in saline. _CHROMATOGRAPHY._ Blood samples were
allowed to clot at room temperature for 3 ~hr, centrifuged and the
serum
was removed. The serum was measured volumetrically and subsequently
dialyzed in the cold for at least 24 ~hr against three to four changes,
approximately 750 ~ml each, of "starting buffer". This
buffer, ~pH 8.6, was 0.005 ~M in **f and 0.039 ~M in
tris(hydroxymethyl)-aminomethane
(Tris). After dialysis the sample was centrifuged
and the supernatant placed on a **f ~cm column of ~EEAE-cellulose
equilibrated with starting buffer. The ~DEAE-cellulose,
containing 0.78 ~mEq of ~N/g, was prepared in our laboratory
by the method of Peterson and Sober (7) from powdered cellulose, 100-230
mesh. The small amount of insoluble material which precipitated
during dialysis was suspended in approximately 5 ~ml of starting buffer,
centrifuged, resuspended in 2.5 ~ml of isotonic saline and tested
for antibody activity. The chromatography was done at 6`~C
using gradient elution, essentially according to Sober and Peterson.
The deep concave gradient employed (fig& 2) was obtained with
a nine-chambered gradient elution device ("Varigrad", reference
(8)) and has been described elsewhere. the other, a shallow concave
gradient (Fig& 1), was produced with a so-called "cone-sphere"
apparatus, the "cone" being a 2-liter Erlenmeyer flask
and the "sphere," a 2-liter round-bottom flask. Each initially contained
1700 ~ml of buffer; in the sphere was starting buffer and
in the cone was final buffer, 0.50 ~M in both **f and Tris, ~pH
4.1.

A flow rate of 72 **f was used and 12 ~ml fractions were collected.
Approximately 165 fractions were obtained from each column.
These were read at 280 ~m|m in a Beckman model ~DU spectrophotometer
and tested for antibody activity as described above. _PAPER
ELECTROPHORESIS._ For protein identification, fractions from the
column were concentrated by pervaporation against a stream of air at 5`~C
or by negative pressure dialysis in an apparatus which permitted
simultaneous concentration of the protein and dialysis against isotonic
saline. During the latter procedure the temperature was maintained
at 2`~C by surrounding the apparatus with ice. Because negative
pressure
dialysis gave better recovery of proteins, permitted detection
of proteins concentrated from very dilute solutions and was a gentler
procedure, it was used in all but the earliest experiments. Paper
electrophoresis was carried out on the concentrated samples in a Spinco
model ~R cell using barbital buffer, ~pH 8.6, ionic strength
0.075, at room temperature on Whatman ~3MM filter paper. Five
milliamperes/cell were applied for 18 ~hr, after which the strips
were stained with bromphenol blue and densitometry was carried out using
a Spinco Analytrol. When paper electrophoresis was to be
used for preparation, eight strips of a whole serum sample or a chromatographic
fraction concentrated by negative pressure dialysis were run/chamber
under the conditions described above. At the end of the run,
the strips in the third and sixth positions in each chamber were dried,
stained for 1 ~hr, washed and dried, while the other strips were
maintained in a horizontal position at 1`~C. The unstained strips
were
then marked, using the stained ones as a guide, and cut transversely
so as to separate the various protein bands. The strip sections containing
a given protein were pooled, eluted with 0.5 ~ml of isotonic
saline, and the eluates were tested for antibody activity. _ULTRACENTRIFUGATION._
Fractions from the column which were to be subjected
to analytical ultracentrifugation were concentrated by negative pressure
dialysis and dialyzed for 16 ~hr in the cold against at least 500
volumes of phosphate-buffered saline, ~pH 7.2, ionic strength 0.154.
They were then centrifuged at 59,780 ~rpm for 35 to 80 ~min
at 20`~C in a Spinco model ~E ultracentrifuge at a protein concentration
of 1.00 to 1.25%. Sedimentation coefficients were computed
as **f values and relative amounts of the various components were calculated
from the Schlieren patterns. For preparative ultracentrifugation,
fractions from the column were concentrated by negative pressure
dialysis to volumes of 1 ~ml or less, transferred to cellulose
tubes and diluted to 12 ~ml with isotonic saline. Ultracentrifugation
was then carried out in a Spinco model ~L ultracentrifuge at
40,000 ~rpm for 125 to 150 ~min, refrigeration being used throughout
the run. Successive 1-~ml fractions were then drawn off with a
hypodermic syringe, starting at the top of the tube, and tested for agglutinin
activity. Other methods will be described below.

#EXPERIMENTAL AND RESULTS#

The insoluble material which precipitated

during dialysis against starting buffer always showed intense agglutinin
activity, regardless of the blood group of the donor. With either
of the gradients described, chromatography on ~DEAE-cellulose
separated agglutinins of the ~ABO series into at least three regions
(Figs& 1 and 2): one of extremely low anionic binding capacity,
one of low anionic binding capacity and one of high anionic binding
capacity. These have been labeled Regions 1, 2, and 4, respectively,
in Fig& 1. When the early part of the gradient was flattened,
either by using the gradient shown in Fig& 2 or by allowing the "cone-sphere"
gradient to become established more slowly, Region 2 activity
could sometimes be separated into two areas (donors P& J&
and R& S&, Fig& 1 and E& M&, Fig& 2). The latter
procedure gave rise to a small active protein peak (Region 1a) between
Regions 1 and 2. In 2 of 15 experiments on whole serum a region of
agglutinin activity with intermediate anionic binding capacity was detected
(Region 3, Fig& 1). Moreover, after concentration using negative
pressure dialysis, agglutinin activity could sometimes be detected
in the region designated 2a (donors P& J&, D& A&, and
J& F&, Fig& 1). Not all these regions exhibited equal
agglutinating activity, as evidenced by titer and the extent of the
active areas. In all cases, most of the activity lay in the region of
high anionic binding capacity. This was particularly noticeable in group
~A and group ~B sera, in which cases activity in Regions 1
and 2 was usually not detectable without prior concentration and occasionally
could not be detected at all. There appeared to be no difference
in the distribution of anti-~A and anti-~B activity in group
~O serum, though in two group ~O donors (J& F& and E&
M&) only one type of agglutinin was found in the regions of low anionic
binding capacity (Figs& 1 and 2). Several samples of
citrated plasma were fractionated in our laboratory by Method 6 of Cohn
<et al>&. These fractions were tested for ~ABO agglutinin
activity, using fractions from group ~AB plasma as a control.
As expected, most of the activity was found in Fraction **f, with
slight activity seen in Fraction /4,-1. A sample of Fraction **f
from group ~O plasma was dissolved in starting buffer, dialyzed against
this buffer and subjected to chromatography using the gradient shown
in Fig& 2. Once again, both anti-~A and anti-~B activities
were found in the insoluble material precipitated during dialysis.
Similarly, both types of antibodies were found in three regions of the
chromatographic eluate, having extremely low, low, and high anionic
binding capacity, respectively (Fig& 3). Chromatography of
whole sera revealed that the areas of ~Rh antibody activity were generally
continuous and wide. The incomplete antibody activity appeared
in the early part of the chromatogram; the complete, in the latter
part. The serum containing the mixed type of complete and incomplete
antibodies showed activity in both regions (Fig& 1). In all cases
the activity against **f cells was spread over a wider area than that
with **f cells, regardless of the type of test (saline, albumin, indirect
Coombs) used for comparison. The insoluble material resulting
from dialysis against starting buffer always showed strong activity. In
fact agglutination of **f cells in saline could be produced by the
insoluble material from sera containing "only" incomplete antibody
activity. This was later known to be the result of concentrating the
minute amount of complete antibody found in these sera; when the insoluble
fraction was suspended in a volume of saline equal to that of
the original serum sample, no complete antibody activity could be detected.

Apart from the honeybee, practically all bees and bumblebees

hibernate in a state of torpor. Occasionally, you may come across one
or two bumblebees in the cold season, when you are turning over sods
in your garden, but you have to be a really keen observer to see them
at all. They keep their wings and feet pressed tightly against their
bodies, and in spite of their often colorful attire you may very well
mistake them for lumps of dirt. I must add at once that these animals
are what we call "queens", young females that have mated in the previous
summer or autumn. It is on them alone that the future of their
race depends, for all their relatives (mothers, husbands, brothers,
and unmated sisters) have perished with the arrival of the cold weather.
Even some of the queens will die before the winter is over, falling
prey to enemies or disease. The survivors emerge on some nice, sunny
day in March or April, when the temperature is close to 50` ~F
and there is not too much wind. Now the thing for us to do is to find
ourselves a couple of those wonderful flowering currants such as the
red <Ribes sanguineum> of our Pacific Northwest, or otherwise a
good sloe tree, or perhaps some nice pussy willow in bloom, preferably
one with male or staminate catkins. The blooms of <Ribes> and of
the willow and sloe are the places where large numbers of our early insects
will assemble: honeybees, bumblebees, and other wild bees, and
also various kinds of flies. It is a happy, buzzing crowd. Each
male willow catkin is composed of a large number of small flowers.
It is not difficult to see that the stamens of the catkin are always
arranged in pairs, and that each individual flower is nothing but one
such pair standing on a green, black-tipped little scale. By scrutinizing
the flowers, one can also notice that the scale bears one or two
tiny warts. Those are the nectaries or honey glands (Fig& 26, page
74). The staminate willow catkins, then, provide their visitors with
both nectar and pollen; a marvelous arrangement, for it provides
exactly what the bee queens need to make their beebread, a combination
of honey and pollen with which the young of all species are fed. The
only exception to this is certain bees that have become parasites. I
will deal with these later on. Quite often, honeybees form a
majority on the willow catkins. As we have already seen in the first
chapter, bumblebees are bigger, hairier, and much more colorful than honeybees,
exhibiting various combinations of black, yellow, white and
orange. Let us not try to key them out at this stage of the game, and
let us just call them <Bombus>; there must be several dozen species
in the
United States alone. If you really insist on knowing their names,
an excellent book on the North American species is <Bumblebees and
Their Ways> by O& E& Plath. If we manage to keep track
of a <Bombus> queen after she has left her feeding place, we may
discover the snug little hideout which she has fixed up for herself
when she woke up from her winter sleep. As befits a queen, a bumblebee
female is rather choosy and may spend considerable time searching for
a suitable nesting place. Most species seem to prefer a ready-made
hollow such as a deserted mouse nest, a bird house, or the hole made
by a woodpecker; some show a definite liking for making their nest in
moss. Once she has made up her mind, the queen starts out by constructing,
in her chosen abode, a small "floor" of dried grass or some
woolly material. On this, she builds an "egg compartment" or "egg
cell" which is filled with that famous pollen-and-nectar mixture
called beebread. She also builds one or two waxen cups which she fills
with honey. Then, a group of eggs is deposited in a cavity in the
beebread loaf and the egg compartment is closed. The queen afterward
keeps incubating and guarding her eggs like a mother hen, taking a sip
from time to time from the rather liquid honey in her honey pots. When
the larvae hatch, they feed on the beebread, although they also receive
extra honey meals from their mother. She continues to add to the
pollen supply as needed. The larvae, kept warm by the queen,
are full grown in about ten days. Each now makes a tough, papery cocoon
and pupates. After another two weeks, the first young emerge, four
to eight small daughters that begin to play the role of worker bees,
collecting pollen and nectar in the field and caring for the new young
generation while the queen retires to a life of egg laying. The first
worker bees do not mate or lay eggs; males and mating females do not
emerge until later in the season. The broods of workers that appear
later tend to be bigger than the first ones, probably because they are
better fed. By the middle of the summer, many of the larvae apparently
receive such a good diet that it is "optimal", and it is then
that young queens begin to appear. Simultaneously, males or drones are
produced, mostly from the unfertilized eggs of workers, although a
few may be produced by the queen. The young queens and drones leave the
nest and mate, and after a short period of freedom, the fertilized
young
queens will begin to dig in for the winter. It is an amazing fact that
in some species this will happen while the summer is still in full
swing, for instance, in August. The temperature then is still very
high. At the old nest, the queen will in the early fall cease to lay
the fertilized eggs that will produce females. As a result, the proportion
of males (which leave the nest) increases, and eventually the old
colony will die out completely. The nest itself, the structure that
in some cases housed about 2,000 individuals when the season was at its
peak, is now rapidly destroyed by the scavenging larvae of certain
beetles and moths. Not always, though, does the development of
a bumblebee colony take place in the smooth fashion we have just described.
Some members of the bee family have become idlers, social parasites
that live at the expense of their hardworking relatives. Bumblebees
can thus suffer severely from the onslaughts of <Psithyrus>, the
"cuckoo-bumblebee" as it is called in some European countries.
Female individuals of <Psithyrus> look deceptively like the workers
and queens of the bumblebees they victimize. The one sure way to tell
victim and villain apart is to examine the hind legs which in the
case of the idler, <Psithyrus>, lack the pollen baskets- naturally!
The female parasite spends much time in her efforts to find a nest
of her host. When she succeeds, she usually manages to slip in unobtrusively,
to deposit an egg on a completed loaf of beebread before the
bumblebees seal the egg compartment. The hosts never seem to recognize
that something is amiss, so that the compartment afterward is sealed
normally. Thus, the larvae of the intruder can develop at the expense
of the rightful inhabitants and the store of beebread. Later on, they
and the mother <Psithyrus> are fed by the <Bombus> workers.
Worse still, in a number of cases it has been claimed that the <Psithyrus>
female kills off the <Bombus> queen. But let us return,
after this gruesome interlude, to our willow catkins in the spring;
there are other wild bees that command our attention. It
is almost certain that some of these, usually a trifle smaller than the
honeybees, are andrenas or mining bees. There are about 200 different
kinds of <Andrena> in Europe alone. One of my favorites is <A&
armata>, a species very common in England, where it is sometimes
referred to as the lawn bee. The females like to burrow in the short
turf of well-kept lawns, where their little mounds of earth often appear
by the hundreds. Almost equal in size to a honeybee. <A& armata>
is much more beautiful in color, at least in the female of the species:
a rich, velvety, rusty red. The males are much duller.

After having mated, an <Andrena> female digs a hole straight down

into the ground, forming a burrow about the size of a lead pencil.
The bottom part of a burrow has a number of side tunnels or "cells",
each of which is provided with an egg plus a store of beebread. The
development of the <Andrena> larvae is very rapid, so that by the
end of spring they have already pupated and become adults. But they
are still enclosed in their larval cells and remain there throughout
the summer, fall, and winter. Their appearance, next spring, coincides
in an almost uncanny way with the flowering of their host plants.
In the Sacramento valley in California, for instance, it has been observed
that there was not one day's difference between the emergence
of the andrenas and the opening of the willow catkins. This must be
due to a completely identical response to the weather, in the plant and
the animal. After the male and female andrenas have mated,
the cycle is repeated. Although <Andrena> is gregarious, so that we
may find hundreds and hundreds of burrows together, we must still call
it a solitary bee. Its life history is much simpler than that of the
truly colonial bumblebees and can serve as an example of the life
cycle of many other species. After all, social life in the group of
the bees is by no means general, although it certainly is a striking
feature. On the basis of its life history, we like to think that <Andrena>
is more primitive than the bumblebees. The way in which it transports
its pollen is not so perfect, either. It lacks pollen baskets
and possesses only a large number of long, branched hairs on its legs,
on which the pollen grains will collect. Still <Andrena> will
do a reasonably good job, so that an animal with a full pollen load looks
like a gay little piece of yellow down floating in the wind.

Closely related to the andrenas are the nomias or alkali bees. <Nomia
melanderi> can be found in tremendous numbers in certain parts of
the United States west of the Great Plains, for example, in Utah
and central Washington. In the United States Department of Agriculture's
<Yearbook of Agriculture, 1952>, which is devoted entirely
to insects, George E& Bohart mentions a site in Utah which
was estimated to contain 200,000 nesting females. Often the burrows
are only an inch or two apart, and the bee cities cover several acres.
The life history of the alkali bee is similar to that of <Andrena>,
but the first activity of the adults does not take place until summer,
and the individuals hibernate in the prepupal stage. In most places,
there are two generations a year, a second brood of adults appearing
late in the summer. I must plead guilty to a special sympathy
for nomias. This may just be pride in my adopted State of Washington,
but certainly I love to visit their mound cities near Yakima and
Prosser in July or August, when the bees are in their most active
period. The name "alkali bee" indicates that one has to look for
them in rather inhospitable places. Sometimes, although by no means
always, these are indeed alkaline. The thing is that these bees love
a fine-grained soil that is moist; yet the water in the ground should
not be stagnant either. They dislike dense vegetation. Where does
one find such conditions? The best chance, of course, is offered by
gently sloping terrain where the water remains close to the surface and
where the air is dry, so that a high evaporation leaves salty deposits
which permit only sparse plant growth.
Many other (probably nearly all) snakes at maturity are already more
than half their final length. Laurence M& Klauber put length at maturity
at two thirds the ultimate length for some rattlesnakes, and Charles
C& Carpenter's data on Michigan garter and ribbon snakes
(<Thamnophis>) show that the smallest gravid females are more than
half as long as the biggest adults. Felix Kopstein states that "when
the snake reaches its maturity it has already reached about its maximal
length", but goes on to cite the reticulate python as an exception,
with maximum length approximately three times that at maturity.
It is hard to understand how he concluded that most snakes do not grow
appreciably after attaining maturity; he was working with species
of Java, so perhaps some tropical snakes are unusual in this respect.
Certain individual giants recorded later did fail to show a reasonable
difference after maturity, but it is impossible to know whether this
is due to captive conditions. Additional records of slow growth have
been omitted. It is possible to make a few generalizations about
the six giants themselves. There seems to be a rough correlation
between the initial and ultimate lengths, starting with the smallest
(boa constrictor) and ending with the largest (anaconda). Data on the
former are scanty, but there can be little doubt that the latter is sometimes
born at a length greater than that of any of the others, thereby
lending support to the belief that the anaconda does, indeed, attain
the greatest length. For four of the six (the anaconda and the amethystine
python cannot be included for lack of data) there is also a correlation
between size at maturity and maximum length, the boa constrictor
being the smallest and the Indian python the next in size at the
former stage. Let us speculate a little on the maximum size
of the anaconda. If, in a certain part of the range, it starts life 1
foot longer than do any of the other (relatively large) giants, and reaches
maturity at, let us guess, 18 inches longer than the others, a
quadrupling of the maturity length would result in a maximum of (nearly)
40 feet. When it comes to rate of early growth, the Indian
python leads with a figure of about 3 feet 6 inches per year for the
first two years, more or less. The African rock python, a close second,
is followed in turn by the reticulate python. There are few data
on the boa constrictor, those for the anaconda are unconvincing, and
there is nothing at all on the amethystine python. It seems likely that
the Indian python comes out ahead because records of its growth have
been made more carefully and frequently; it responds exceptionally
well to captivity and does not reach proportions that make it hard to
keep. I cannot make sense out of the figures for post maturity
growth; at best the annual increase appears to be a matter of inches
rather than feet. Until better records have been kept over longer
periods of time and much more is known about the maximum dimensions,
it will be wise to refrain from drawing conclusions. It is often
stated
that the largest snakes require five years to attain maturity, but
this apparently is an overestimation. The best way to determine the
correct figure (in captives) is by direct observation of pairs isolated
from birth, a method that produced surprising results: maturing of
a male Indian python in less than two years, his mate in less than three;
data on the boa constrictor about match this. Another approach
is to estimate from the rate of growth and the smallest size at
maturity. Results from this approach amply confirm the direct observations:
about three years are required, there being a possible slight
difference between males and females in the time required. Only the
amethystine python and the anaconda must be excluded for lack or paucity
of data. The following information on snakes varying greatly
in size (but all with less than a 10-foot maximum) shows, when considered
with the foregoing, that there is probably no correlation between
the length of a snake and the time required for it to mature. Oliver,
in his summary of the habits of the snakes of the United States,
could supply data on the maturing period for only three species in addition
to the rattlers, which I shall consider separately. These three
were much alike: lined snake (<Tropidoclonion>), one year and
nine months; red-bellied snake (<Storeria>), two years; cottonmouth
(<Ancistrodon>), two years. Klauber investigated the rattlesnakes
carefully himself and also summarized what others have found. He
concluded that in the southern species, which are rapidly growing types,
females mate at the age of two and a half and bear the first young
when they are three. Other herpetologists have ascertained that in
the northern United States the prairie rattlesnake may not give first
birth until it is four or even five years old, and that the young may
be born every other year, rather than annually. Carpenter's study
showed that female common garter and ribbon snakes of Michigan mature
at about the age of two.

#MAXIMUM LENGTH#

Oversized monsters are

never brought home either alive or preserved, and field measurements
are obviously open to doubt because of the universal tendency to exaggerate
dimensions. Measurements of skins are of little value; every
snake hide is noticeably longer than its carcass and intentional stretching
presents no difficulty to the unscrupulous explorer. In
spite of all the pitfalls, there is a certain amount of agreement on
some of the giants. The anaconda proves to be the fly in the ointment,
but the reason for this is not clear; the relatively wild conditions
still found in tropical South America might be responsible.

There are three levels on which to treat the subject. The first is
the strictly scientific, which demands concrete proof and therefore may
err on the conservative side by waiting for evidence in the flesh. This
approach rejects virtually all field measurements. The next level
attempts to weigh varied evidence and come to a balanced, sensible conclusion;
field measurements by experienced explorers are not rejected,
and even reports of a less scientific nature are duly evaluated.
The third level leans on a belief that a lot of smoke means some fire.
The argument against this last approach is comparable to that which
rejects stories about hoop snakes, about snakes that break themselves
into many pieces and join up again, or even of ghosts that chase people
out of graveyards; the mere piling up of testimony does not prove,
to the scientific mind, the existence of hoop snakes, joint snakes,
or ghosts. Oliver has recently used the second-level approach
with the largest snakes, and has come to these conclusions: the anaconda
reaches a length of at least 37 feet, the reticulate python 33,
the African rock python 25, the amethystine python at least 22, the Indian
python 20, and the boa constrictor 18-1/2. Bernard Heuvelmans
also treats of the largest snakes, but on the third level, and
is chiefly concerned with the anaconda. He reasons that as anacondas
30 feet long are often found, some might be 38, and occasional "monstrous
freaks" over 50. He rejects dimensions of 70 feet and more.
His thirteenth chapter includes many exciting accounts of huge serpents
with prodigious strength, but these seem to be given to complete his
picture, not to be believed. Detailed information on record
lengths of the giants is given in the section that follows.

#GROWTH
OF THE SIX GIANTS#

Discussions of the giants one by one will include,

as far as possible, data on these aspects of growth: size at which
life is started and at which sexual maturity is reached; time required
to reach maturity; rate of growth both before and after this crucial
stage; and maximum length, with confirmation or amplification
of Oliver's figures. Definite information on the growth of senile
individuals is lacking. _ANACONDA:_ At birth, this species varies
considerably in size. A brood of twenty-eight born at Brookfield
Zoo, near Chicago, ranged in length from 22 to 33-1/2 inches and averaged
29 inches. Lawrence E& Griffin gives measurements of nineteen
young anacondas, presumably members of a brood, from "South America";
the extreme measurements of these fall between the lower limit
of the Brookfield brood and its average. Raymond L& Ditmars
had
two broods that averaged 27 inches. R& R& Mole and F& W&
Urich give approximately 20 inches as the average length of a brood
of thirty from the region of the Orinoco estuaries. William Beebe
reports 26 inches and 2.4 ounces (this snake must have been emaciated)
for the length and the weight of a young anaconda from British Guiana.
In contrast, Ditmars recorded the average length of seventy-two
young of a 19-foot female as 38 inches, and four young were born in London
at a length of 35 or 36 inches and a weight of from 14 to 16 ounces.
Beebe had a 3-foot anaconda that weighed only 9.8 ounces. A difference
between subspecies might explain the great range in size.

I have little information on the anaconda's rate of growth. Hans

Schweizer had one that increased from 19-1/2 inches to 5 feet 3 inches
in five years, and J& J& Quelch records a growth of from less
than 4 feet to nearly 10 in about six years. It is very unlikely that
either of these anacondas was growing at a normal rate. In 1948,
Afranio do Amaral, the noted Brazilian herpetologist, wrote a
technical paper on the giant snakes. He concluded that the anaconda's
maximum length is 12 or 13 (perhaps 14) meters, which would approximate
from 39 to 42 feet (14 meters is slightly less that 46 feet). Thus,
his estimate lies between Oliver's suggestion of at least 37 feet
and the 50-foot "monstrous freaks" intimated by Heuvelmans.

The most convincing recent measurement of an anaconda was made in

eastern Colombia by Roberto Lamon, a petroleum geologist of the Richmond
Oil Company, and reported in 1944 by Emmett R& Dunn. However,
as a field measurement, it is open to question. Oliver's 37-1/2
feet is partly based on this report and can be accepted as probable.
However, many herpetologists remain skeptical and would prefer
a tentative maximum of about 30 feet. It is possible that especially
large anacondas will prove to belong to subspecies limited to
a small area. In snakes difference in size is a common characteristic
of subspecies. _BOA CONSTRICTOR:_ A Colombian female's brood
of sixteen boa constrictors born in the Staten Island Zoo averaged
20 inches. This birth length seems to be typical. When some thirteen
records of newly and recently born individuals are collated, little
or no correlation between length and distribution can be detected. The
range is from 14 to 25 inches; the former figure is based on a somewhat
unusual birth of four by a Central American female (see chapter
on Laying, Brooding, Hatching, and Birth), the latter on a "normal"
newly born individual. However, as so many of the records are
not certainly based on newborn snakes, these data must be taken tentatively;
final conclusions will have to await the measurements of broods
from definite localities. Alphonse R& Hoge's measurements
of several very young specimens from Brazil suggest that at birth the
female is slightly larger than the male. I have surprisingly little
information on the size and age at maturity. Carl Kauffeld has
written to me of sexual activity in February 1943 of young born in March
1940. One female, collected on an island off the coast of Nicaragua,
was gravid and measured 4 feet 8 inches from <snout to vent>
(her tail should be between 6 and 7 inches long). The female from Central
America which gave birth to four was only 3 feet 11 inches long.

What data there are on growth indicate considerable variation

in rate; unfortunately, no one has kept complete records of one individual,
whereas many have been made for a very short period of time.
The results are too varied to allow generalization.
The bronchus and pulmonary artery in this lung type maintain a close
relationship throughout. The pulmonary vein, however, without the limiting
supportive tissue septa as in type /1,, follows a more direct
path
to the hilum and does not maintain this close relationship (figs& 8,
22). Another marked difference is noted here. The pulmonary artery,
in addition to supplying the distal portion of the respiratory bronchiole,
the alveolar duct, and the alveoli, continues on and directly supplies
the thin pleura (fig& 8). The bronchial artery, except for a
small number of short branches in the hilum, contributes none of the
pleural blood supply. It does, as in type /1,, supply the hilar lymph
nodes, the pulmonary artery, the pulmonary vein, the bronchi, and the
bronchioles- terminating in a common capillary bed with the pulmonary
artery at the level of the respiratory bronchiole. No bronchial artery-pulmonary
artery anastomoses were noted in this group. Lung
type /3, (fig& 3) is to some degree a composite of types /1,
and /2,. It is characterized by the presence of incompletely developed
secondary lobules; well defined, but haphazardly arranged, interlobular
septa and a thick, remarkably vascular pleura (fig& 9). The
most distal airways are similar to those found in type /1,, being
composed of numerous, apparently true terminal bronchioles and occasional,
poorly developed respiratory bronchioles (figs& 14, 15). In this
instance, because of incomplete septation, the secondary lobule does
not constitute in itself what appears to be a small individual lung
as in type /1,. Air-drifts from one area to another are, therefore,
conceivable. Distally the bronchus is situated between a pulmonary artery
on one side and a pulmonary vein on the other, as in type /1,
(fig& 24). This relationship, however, is not maintained centrally.
Here the pulmonary vein, as in type /2,, is noted to draw away from
the bronchus, and to follow a more direct, independent course to the
hilum (figs& 23, 24). The bronchial artery in its course and distribution
differs somewhat from that found in other mammals. As seen in
types /1, and /2,, it supplies the hilar lymph nodes, vasa vasorum
to the pulmonary artery and vein, the bronchi and the terminal bronchioles.
As in type /1,, it provides arterial blood to the interlobular
septa, and an extremely rich anastomotic pleural supply is seen (figs&
9, 10). This pleural supply is derived both from hilar and interlobular
bronchial artery branches. Such a dual derivation was strikingly
demonstrated during the injection process where initial filling
would be noted to occur in several isolated pleural vessels at once. Some
of these were obviously filling from interlobular branches of the
bronchial arteries while others were filling from direct hilar branches
following along the pleural surface. With completion of filling, net-like
anastomoses were noted to be present between these separately
derived branches. An unusual increase in the number of bronchial arteries
present within the substance of the lung was noted. This was accounted
for primarily by the presence of a bronchial artery closely following
the pulmonary artery. The diameter of this bronchial artery was
much too large for it to be a mere vasa vasorum (figs& 16, 23, 24).
In distal regions its diameter would be one-fourth to one-fifth that
of the pulmonary artery. This vessel could be followed to the parenchyma
where it directly provided bronchial arterial blood to the alveolar
capillary bed (figs& 17, 18). Also three other direct pathways
of alveolar bronchial arterial supply were noted: via the pleura;
through the interlobular septa; and along the terminal bronchiole (figs&
14, 17, 18, 19). One bronchial arteriolar-pulmonary arteriolar
anastomosis was noted at the terminal bronchiolar level (fig& 26).

#DISCUSSION#

It is evident that many marked and striking differences

exist between lungs when an inter-species comparison is made. The
significance of these differences has not been studied nor has the existence
of corresponding physiologic differences been determined. However,
the dynamics of airflow, from morphologic considerations alone,
may conceivably be different in the monkey than in the horse. The volume
and, perhaps, even the characteristics of bronchial arterial blood
flow might be different in the dog than in the horse. Also, interlobular
air drifts may be all but nonexistent in the cow; probably occur
in the horse much as in the human being; and, in contrast are present
to a relatively immense degree on a segmental basis in the dog where
lobules are absent (Van Allen and Lindskog, '31). A reason
for such wide variation in the pulmonary morphology is entirely lacking
at present. Within certain wide limits anatomy dictates function
and, if one is permitted to speculate, potential pathology should
be included in this statement as well. For example, the marked susceptibility
of the monkey to respiratory infection might be related to its
delicate, long alveolar ducts and short, large bronchioles situated
within a parenchyma entirely lacking in protective supportive tissue
barriers such as those found in types /1, and /3,. One might also
wonder if monkeys are capable of developing bronchiolitis as we know
it in man or the horse. In addition, it would be difficult to imagine
chronic generalized emphysema occurring in a cow, considering its marked
lobular development but, conversely, not difficult to imagine this
occurring in the horse or the dog. Anatomically, the horse lung
appears to be remarkably like that of man, insofar as this can be ascertained
from comparison of our findings in the horse with those of
others (Birnbaum, '54) in the human being. The only area in which
one might find major disagreement in this matter is in regard to the alveolar
distribution of the bronchial arteries. As early as 1858, Le
Fort claimed an alveolar distribution of the bronchial arteries in human
beings. In 1951, this was reaffirmed by Cudkowicz. The opposition
to this point of view has its staunchest support in the work of Miller
('50). Apparently, however, Miller has relied heavily on the
anatomy in dogs and cats, and he has been criticized for using pathologic
human material in his normal study (Loosli, '38). Although Miller
noted in 1907 that a difference in the pleural blood supply existed
between animals, nowhere in his published works is it found that he
did a comparative study of the intrapulmonary features of various mammalian
lungs other than in the dog and cat (Miller, '13; '25).

The meaning of this variation in distribution of the bronchial

artery as found in the horse is not clear. However, this artery is known
to be a nutrient vessel with a distribution primarily to the proximal
airways and supportive tissues of the lung. The alveoli and respiratory
bronchioles are primarily diffusing tissues. Theoretically, they
are capable of extracting their required oxygen either from the surrounding
air (Ghoreyeb and Karsner, '13) or from pulmonary arterial
blood (Comroe, '58). Therefore, an explanation of this alveolar
bronchial artery supply might be the nutritive requirement of an increased
amount of supportive tissue, not primarily diffusing in nature,
in the region of the alveolus. If this be true, the possibility exists
that an occlusive lesion of the bronchial arteries might cause widespread
degeneration of supportive tissue similar to that seen in generalized
emphysema. One would not expect such an event to occur in animals
possessing lungs of types /1, or /2,. The presence of normally
occurring bronchial artery-pulmonary artery anastomoses was first
noted in 1721 by Ruysch, and thereafter by many others. Nakamura
('58), Verloop ('48), Marchand, Gilroy and Watson ('50), von
Hayek ('53), and Tobin ('52) have all claimed their normal but
relatively nonfunctional existence in the human being. Miller ('50)
is the principal antagonist of this viewpoint. In criticism of the latter's
views, his conclusions were based upon dog lung injection studies
in which all of the vascular channels were first filled with a solution
under pressure and then were injected with various sized colored
particles designed to stop at the arteriolar level. As early as 1913
Ghoreyeb and Karsner demonstrated with perfusion studies in dogs
that bronchial artery flow would remain constant at a certain low level
when pressure was maintained in the pulmonary artery and vein, but that
increases in bronchial artery flow would occur in response to a relative
drop in pulmonary artery pressure. Berry, Brailsford and Daly
in 1931 and Nakamura in 1958 reaffirmed this. Our own studies in which
bronchial artery-pulmonary artery anastomoses were demonstrated,
were accomplished by injecting the bronchial artery first with no pressure
on the pulmonary artery or vein, and then by injecting the pulmonary
artery and vein afterwards. It is distinctly possible, therefore,
that simultaneous pressures in all three vessels would have rendered
the shunts inoperable and hence, uninjectable. This viewpoint is further
supported by Verloop's ('48) demonstration of thickened bronchial
artery and arteriolar muscular coats which are capable of acting
as valves. In other words, the anastomoses between the bronchial artery
and pulmonary artery should be considered as <functional> or <demand>
shunts. In addition, little work has been done on a comparative
basis in regard to the normal existence of bronchial artery-pulmonary
artery anastomoses. Verloop ('48; '49) found these shunts
in the human being but was unable to find them in rats. Ellis, Grindlay
and Edwards ('52) also were unable to find them in rats. Nakamura
('58) was unable to demonstrate their existence, either by anatomic
or physiologic methods, in dogs. The possibility that the absence
or presence of these shunts is species-dependent is therefore inferred.
Certainly, the mere fact of failing to demonstrate them in one
or another species does not conclusively deny their existence in that
species. It is, however, highly suggestive and agrees well with our own
findings in which we also failed to demonstrate normally occurring
bronchial artery-pulmonary artery shunts in certain species, especially
the dog. In conclusion, these findings suggest the need for
a comparative physiology, pathology, and histology of mammalian lungs.
In addition, a detailed interspecies survey of the incidence of generalized
pulmonary emphysema in mammals would be interesting and pertinent.
Also, for the present, great caution should be exercised in the
choice of an experimental animal for pulmonary studies if they are to
be applied to man. This is especially so if the dog, cat or monkey are
to be used, in view of their marked anatomical differences from man.
Finally, it is suggested that in many respects the horse lung may be
anatomically more comparable to that of the human than any other presently
known species.

#SUMMARY#

The main subgross anatomical features

of the lungs of various mammals are presented. A tabulation of these
features permits the lungs to be grouped into three distinctive subgross
types. Type /1, is represented by the cow, sheep, and pig;
type /2,, by the dog, cat, and monkey; type /3,, by the horse.
Lobularity is extremely well developed in type /1,; absent in type
/2,; imperfectly developed in type /3,. The pleura and interlobular
septa are thick in types /1, and /3,. The pleura is extremely
thin in type /2, and septa are absent. Arterial supply to the pleura
in types /1, and /3, is provided by the bronchial artery, and
in type /2,, by the pulmonary artery. In types /1,, /2, and /3,
the bronchial artery terminates in a capillary bed shared in common
with the pulmonary artery at the level of the distal bronchiole. In
type /3, the bronchial artery also provides blood directly to the
alveolar capillary bed. True terminal bronchioles comprise the most frequent
form taken by the distal airways in types /1, and /3,, although
small numbers of poorly developed respiratory bronchioles are present.
Well developed respiratory bronchioles, on the other hand, appear
to be the only form taken by the distal airways in type /2,. In
type /1, the pulmonary vein closely follows the course of the bronchus
and the pulmonary artery from the periphery to the hilum. This maybe
due to the heavy interlobular connective tissue barriers present. In
type /3, this general relationship is maintained peripherally but
not centrally where the pulmonary vein follows a more independent path
to the hilum as is the case throughout the lung in type /2,.

Some of the features of the top portions of Figure 1 and Figure

2 were mentioned in discussing Table 1. First, the Onset Profile
spreads across approximately 12 years for boys and 10 years for girls.
In contrast, 20 of the 21 lines in the Completion Profile (excluding
center 5 for boys and 4 for girls) are bunched and extend over a
much shorter period, approximately 30 months for boys and 40 months for
girls. The Maturity Chart for each sex demonstrates clearly that
Onset is a phenomenon of infancy and early childhood whereas Completion
is a phenomenon of the later portion of adolescence. Second, for
both sexes, the 21 transverse lines in the Onset Profile vary more
in individual spread than those in the Completion Profile. Although
the standard deviation values on which spread of the lines are based
are <relatively> larger for those centers which begin to ossify early
(Table 1), there are considerable differences in this value between
centers having the closely timed Onsets. Third, the process of calcification
is seen to begin later and to continue much longer for these
boys than for the girls, a fact which confirms data for other groups of
children. The Onset Profile and Completion Profile are constructed
to serve as norms for children. It is convenient to classify
a child's onset ages and completion ages as "advanced", "moderate"
(modal), or "delayed" according to whether the child's
age equivalent "dots" appeared to the <left> of, <upon>, or
to the <right> of the appropriate short transverse line. When a dot
appears close to the end of the transverse line, the "moderate"
rating may be further classified according to the position of the dot
with respect to the vertical marking denoting the mean age. Such classifications
may be called "somewhat advanced" or "somewhat delayed",
as the case may be, reserving "moderate" for dots upon or close
to the mean. In the lower portion of each Chart, the Skeletal
Age (Hand) of boy 34 and girl 2 may be similarly classified.
There the middle one of the three curves denotes "mean Skeletal Age"
for the Maturity Series boys and girls. The upper curve denotes
the mean plus one standard deviation, and the lower curve represents
the mean minus one standard deviation. Thus, a child's Skeletal
Age "dots" may be classified as "advanced" when they appear above
the middle curve, "moderate" when they appear immediately above
or below the middle curve, and "delayed" when they appear below
the lower curve. To summarize the purpose of the Skeletal Maturity
Chart: each contains two kinds of skeletal maturity norms which
show two quite different methods of depicting developmental level
of growth centers. First, the upper portion requires series of films
for every child, consisting of those from Hand, Elbow, Shoulder, Knee,
and Foot. The lower portion necessitates only films of Hand.
Second, the upper portion permits comparison of maturity levels of an
equal number of growth centers from the long, short, and round bones
of the five regions. The lower portion permits comparison of maturity
levels of short and round bones predominantly, since only two long bones
are included in Hand and Wrist as a region. Third, the upper portion
deals with only two indicators of developmental level, Onset and
Completion. The lower portion utilizes the full complement of intermediate
maturity indicators of each Hand center as well as their Onset
and Completion. Fourth, the two indicators are for the most part
widely separated chronologically, with the extensive age gap occurring
during childhood for all but one growth center. The lower portion provides
a rating at any stage between infancy and adulthood. Onsets,
Completions, and Skeletal Ages (Hand) of boy 34 and girl 2
may be directly compared and classified, using only those Skeletal Ages
which appear immediately below the Onset Profile and the Completion
Profile. It may be assumed that differences in ratings due to selection
of growth centers from specific regions of the body will be small,
according to existing tables of onset age and completion age for
centers throughout the body. Accordingly, maturity level ratings by
means of the upper portion and lower portion of the Chart, respectively,
should be somewhat similar since Skeletal Age assessments are dependent
upon Onsets during infancy and upon Completions during adolescence.
It is clear that there are some differences in the ratings, but
there is substantial agreement. Since a Skeletal Age rating can
be made at any age during growth, from Elbow, Shoulder, Knee, or Foot
as well as Hand, it seems to be the method of choice when one wishes
to study most aspects of skeletal developmental progress during childhood.
As stated earlier in the paper, Onsets and Completions-
particularly the former- provide a different tool or indicator of expectancy
in osseous development, each within a limited age period. Such
an indicator, or indicators, are needed as means of recognizing specific
periods of delay in skeletal developmental progress. It
was stated earlier that one purpose of this study was to extend the analysis
of variability of Onset and Completion in each of the 21 growth
centers somewhat beyond that provided by the data in Tables 1 and
2. As one approach to doing this, Figures 3 and 4 have been constructed
from the mean ages and the individual onset and completion ages for
boy 34 and girl 2. The differences between onset age and completion age
with respect to the corresponding mean age have been brought into juxtaposition
by means of a series of arrows. The data for boy 34 appear
in Figure 3, and for girl 2 in Figure 4. The numbering system used
in Tables 1 and 2 and Figures 1 and 2 was continued for the 21 growth
centers. The "dot" on one end of each arrow indicates
extent of difference in months between the child's onset age and the
corresponding mean age for the growth center. The "tip" of the
arrow represents extent of difference between the child's completion
age and the corresponding mean age for the growth center. Thus, the
alignment of the "dots" and "tips", respectively, indicate individual
variability of the 21 growth centers of each child with respect
to the mean values for these boys and girls. The direction in which
the arrow points shows how the maturity level of the growth center was
changed at Completion from the level at Onset. When the "dot"
and "tip" coincide, the classification used in this paper is "same
schedule". The length of the arrow indicates amount of slowing or
acceleration at Completion over that at Onset, and the difference
in months can be read roughly by referring the arrow to the age scale
along the base of each figure, or more precisely by referring to the
original data in the appropriate tables. The difference between
the sequence of Onset of ossification for the sexes governs the numbering
sequence in Figures 3 and 4. This difference is readily clarified
by referring to Table 1. For example, arrow 17 in Figure 3 portrays
the proximal radial epiphysis for boy 34, whereas the same epiphysis
for girl 2 is portrayed by arrow 18 in Figure 4. For the boy,
this epiphysis was markedly delayed at Onset but near the mean at Completion.
Thus, the Span of its ossification was shortened and the center's
ability to "catch up" in ossification is demonstrated. In
contrast, for the girl the epiphysis was slightly advanced at Onset
and delayed at Completion. Obviously, the slowing for her may have
occurred at any point between Onset and Completion. The Skeletal
Age curve in the lower portion of Figure 2 shows that slowing may have
occurred for her during the prepubescent period. Length of the shaft
of these arrows may be evaluated according to the standard deviation
values for each center in Table 1. We have attempted to simplify
the extensive task of analyzing onset ages and completion ages of
each child- more than 1700 values for the entire group- by constructing
figures for each of the 21 centers so that the data for all 34
boys and 34 of the girls will appear together for each growth center.
Figures 5 and 6 are examples of our method of analyzing the results for
each growth center. Forty other figures similar to 5 and 6 and the
original data used in the construction of all figures and tables in this
monograph have been included in the Appendix. The principles
used in making each arrow for Figures 3 and 4 were applied to the
construction of Figures 5 and 6 as well as all figures in the Appendix.
One growth center in a short bone- distal phalanx of the second
finger- was chosen as an example for discussion here, primarily because
epiphyseal-diaphyseal fusion, the maturity indicator for Completion
in long and short bones, occurs in this center for girls near the
menarche and for boys near their comparable pubescent stage. Its Completion
thus becomes one of the convenient maturity indicators to include
in studies of growth, dietary patterns, and health during adolescence.

The following summary, based on Figures 5 and 6, is an

example of one way of interpreting the 42 figures constructed from onset
ages and completion ages of individual children with respect to the
appropriate mean age for each growth center. At the top of Figure 5,
for example, the Onset range and Completion range lines for the chosen
growth center have been drawn for girls according to their mean and
standard deviation values in Table 1. The 34 arrows, denoting onset
age plus completion age deviations, have been arrayed in an Onset
sequence which begins with girl 18 who had the earliest Onset of the
34 girls. The growth center depicted here, in the distal phalanx of the
second finger, is listed as the fifth of those in the seven short bones.
The mean onset age was 25.3 months (Table 1), and the average
Span of the osseous stage was 133 months. The correlation (Table 2)
between onset age and completion age was +.50, and that between onset
age and Span was -.10. With due consideration for the limits of precision
in assessing, expected rate of change in ossification of girls age
2 years, and the known variations in rate of ossification of these
children as described in our preceding paper in the Supplement, each
arrow with a "shaft length" of four months or less was selected as
indicating "same schedule" at Onset and Completion, for this particular
epiphysis. Accordingly, girls 31, 29, 33, 21, 26, 13, 3, 4,
14, 32, 24, 25, 34, 23, 6, 15, 22, and 16 may be said to have the "same
schedule" at Onset and Completion. It seems clear, from
the counter-balanced shape of the series of arrows in Figure 5 that
there was about an equal number of early and late Onsets and Completions
for the 34 girls. Accordingly, if epiphyseal-diaphyseal fusion
occurs in this phalanx near menarche, early and late menarches might
have been forecast rather precisely at the time of Onset of ossification
for the 18 girls with "same schedule". As an example of the interpretation
of an arrow in the figure which exceeds four months in shaft
length in conjunction with its position in the figure: girl 2 had
a delayed Onset and further delayed Completion. It is of interest
that her menarche was somewhat later than the average for the girls
in this group. A similar analysis of Figure 6 for the 34 boys
would necessitate quite a different conclusion about the predictive value
of onset age in forecasting their attainment of the pubescent stage.
Boys 32, 23, 31, 17, 30, 19, and 24 had "same schedule" at Onset
and Completion; thus early forecasting of the pubescent stage
would appear possible for only seven boys. Boy 34, like girl 2, did not
have "same schedule"; his arrow crosses the line denoting the
mean. The "dot" on his arrow indicates early Onset and the "tip"
indicates relatively later Completion. After the 42 figures
had been drawn like Figures 5 and 6, classifications of the onset
ages and completion ages were summarized from them.
Interestingly enough, the effect of the digitalis glycosides is inhibited
by a high concentration of potassium in the incubation medium and
is enhanced by the absence of potassium (Wolff, 1960). _B. ORGANIFICATION
OF IODINE_ The precise mechanism for organification of iodine
in the thyroid is not as yet completely understood. However, the formation
of organically bound iodine, mainly mono-iodotyrosine, can be
accomplished in cell-free systems. In the absence of additions to the
homogenate, the product formed is an iodinated particulate protein (Fawcett
and Kirkwood, 1953; Taurog, Potter and Chaikoff, 1955;
Taurog, Potter, Tong, and Chaikoff, 1956; Serif and Kirkwood,
1958; De Groot and Carvalho, 1960). This iodoprotein does not
appear
to be the same as what is normally present in the thyroid, and there
is no evidence so far that thyroglobulin can be iodinated in vitro
by cell-free systems. In addition, the iodoamino acid formed in largest
quantity in the intact thyroid is di-iodotyrosine. If tyrosine
and a system generating hydrogen peroxide are added to a cell-free homogenate
of the thyroid, large quantities of free mono-iodotyrosine can
be formed (Alexander, 1959). It is not clear whether this system
bears any resemblance to the in vivo iodinating mechanism, and a system
generating peroxide has not been identified in thyroid tissue. On chemical
grounds it seems most likely that iodide is first converted to
**f and then to **f as the active iodinating species. In the thyroid
gland it appears that proteins (chiefly thyroglobulin) are iodinated
and that free tyrosine and thyronine are not iodinated. Iodination of
tyrosine, however, is not enough for the synthesis of hormone. The mono-
and di-iodotyrosine must be coupled to form tri-iodothyronine and
thyroxine. The mechanism of this coupling has been studied in some detail
with non-enzymatic systems in vitro and can be simulated by certain
di-iodotyrosine analogues (Pitt-Rivers and James, 1958). There
is so far no evidence to indicate conclusively that this coupling is
under enzymatic control. The chemical nature of the iodocompounds
is discussed below (pp& 76 et seq&). _C. THYROGLOBULIN SYNTHESIS_
Little is known of the synthetic mechanisms for formation of
thyroglobulin. Its synthesis has not been demonstrated in cell-free systems,
nor has its synthesis by systems with intact thyroid cells in
vitro been unequivocally proven. There is some reason to think that thyroglobulin
synthesis may proceed independently of iodination, for in
certain transplantable tumours of the rat thyroid containing essentially
no iodinated thyroglobulin, a protein that appears to be thyroglobulin
has been observed in ultracentrifuge experiments (Wolff, Robbins
and Rall, 1959). Similar findings have been noted in a patient with
congenital absence of the organification enzymes, whose thyroid tissue
could only concentrate iodide. In addition, depending on availability
of dietary iodine, thyroglobulin may contain varying quantities of
iodine. _D. SECRETION_ Since the circulating thyroid hormones are
the amino acids thyroxine and tri-iodothyronine (cf& Section C),
it is clear that some mechanism must exist in the thyroid gland for their
release from proteins before secretion. The presence of several proteases
and peptidases has been demonstrated in the thyroid. One of
the proteases has ~pH optimum of about 3.7 and another of about 5.7
(McQuillan, Stanley and Trikojus, 1954; Alpers, Robbins and Rall,
1955). The finding that the concentration of one of these proteases
is increased in thyroid glands from ~TSH-treated animals suggests
that this protease may be active in vivo. There is no conclusive
evidence yet that either of the proteases has been prepared in highly
purified form nor is their specificity known. A study of their activity
on thyroglobulin has shown that thyroxine is not preferentially released
and that the degradation proceeds stepwise with the formation
of macromolecular intermediates (Alpers, Petermann and Rall, 1956).
Besides proteolytic enzymes the thyroid possesses de-iodinating enzymes.
A microsomal de-iodinase with a ~pH optimum of around 8, and requiring
reduced triphosphopyridine nucleotide for activity, has been
identified in the thyroid (Stanbury, 1957). This de-iodinating enzyme
is effective against mono- and di-iodotyrosine, but does not de-iodinate
thyroxine or tri-iodothyronine. It is assumed that the iodine released
from the iodotyrosines remains in the iodide pool of the thyroid,
where it is oxidised and re-incorporated into thyroglobulin. The thyroxine
and tri-iodothyronine released by proteolysis and so escaping
de-iodination presumably diffuse into the blood stream. It has been
shown that thyroglobulin binds thyroxine, but the binding does not appear
to be particularly strong. It has been suggested that the plasma
thyroxine-binding proteins, which have an extremely high affinity for
thyroxine, compete with thyroglobulin for thyroxine (Ingbar and Freinkel,
1957). _E. ANTITHYROID DRUGS_ Antithyroid drugs are of two
general types. One type has a small univalent anion of the
thiocyanate-perchlorate-fluoroboride
type. This ion inhibits thyroid hormone synthesis
by interfering with iodide concentration in the thyroid. It does
not appear to affect the iodinating mechanism as such. The other
group of antithyroid agents or drugs is typified by thiouracil. These
drugs have no effect on the iodide concentrating mechanism, but they
inhibit organification. The mechanism of action of these drugs has not
been completely worked out, but certain of them appear to act by reducing
the oxidised form of iodine before it can iodinate thyroglobulin
(Astwood, 1954). On the other hand, there are a few antithyroid drugs
of this same general type, such as resorcinol, possessing no reducing
activity and possibly acting through formation of a complex with molecular
iodine. Any of the antithyroid drugs, of either type, if given
in large enough doses for a long period of time will cause goitre, owing
to inhibition of thyroid hormone synthesis, with production of hypothyroidism.
The anterior lobe of the pituitary then responds by an increased
output of ~TSH, causing the thyroid to enlarge. The effect
of drugs that act on the iodide-concentrating mechanism can be counteracted
by addition of relatively large amounts of iodine to the diet.
The antithyroid drugs of the thiouracil type, however, are not antagonised
by such means. Besides those of the thiouracil and resorcinol
types, certain antithyroid drugs have been found in naturally occurring
foods. The most conclusively identified is L-5-vinyl-2-thio-oxazolidone,
which was isolated from rutabaga (Greer, 1950). It is presumed
to occur in other members of the Brassica family. There is some
evidence that naturally occurring goitrogens may play a role in the development
of goitre, particularly in Tasmania and Australia (Clements
and Wishart, 1956). There it seems that the goitrogen ingested by
dairy
animals is itself inactive but is converted in the animal to an active
goitrogen, which is then secreted in the milk. _F. DIETARY INFLUENCES_
Besides the presence of goitrogens in the diet, the level of
iodine itself in the diet plays a major role in governing the activity
of the thyroid gland. In the experimental animal and in man gross
deficiency in dietary iodine causes thyroid hyperplasia, hypertrophy and
increased thyroid activity (Money, Rall and Rawson, 1952; Stanbury,
Brownell, Riggs, Perinetti, Itoiz, and Del Castillo, 1954).
In man the normal level of iodine in the diet and the level necessary
to prevent development of goitre is about 100 ~|mg per day. With
lower levels, thyroid hypertrophy and increased thyroid blood-flow
enable the thyroid to accumulate a larger proportion of the daily intake
of iodine. Further, the gland is able to re-use a larger fraction
of the thyroid hormone de-iodinated peripherally. In the presence of
a low iodine intake, thyroglobulin labelled in vivo with **f is found
to contain more mono-iodotyrosine than normal, the amounts of di-iodotyrosine
and iodothyronines being correspondingly reduced. This appears
to result from both a reduced amount of the iodine substrate and a more
rapid secretion of newly iodinated thyroglobulin. If the deficiency
persists long enough, it is reasonable to suppose that the **f label
will reflect the **f distribution in the thyroglobulin. Similar results
might be expected from the influence of drugs or pathological conditions
that limit iodide trapping, or organification, or accelerate thyroglobulin
proteolysis.

#B. THE THYROID-STIMULATING HORMONE#

The
name thyroid-stimulating hormone (~TSH) has been given to a substance
found in the anterior pituitary gland of all species of animal so
far
tested for its presence. The hormone has also been called thyrotrophin
or thyrotrophic hormone. At the present time we do not know by what
biochemical mechanism ~TSH acts on the thyroid, but for bio-assay
of the hormone there are a number of properties by which its activity
may be estimated, including release of iodine from the thyroid, increase
in thyroid weight, increase in mean height of the follicular cells
and increase in the thyroidal uptake of **f. Here we shall restrict
discussion to those methods that appear sufficiently sensitive and precise
for determining the concentration of ~TSH in blood. Brown
(1959) has reviewed generally the various methods of assaying ~TSH,
and the reader is referred to her paper for further information on
the subject.

#1. CHEMICAL CONSTITUTION AND PHYSICAL PROPERTIES OF PITUITARY

~TSH#

As long ago as 1851 it was pointed out by Niepce (1851)

that there is a connection between the pituitary and the thyroid..
This connection was clarified by Smith and Smith (1922), who showed
that saline extracts of fresh bovine pituitary glands could re-activate
the atrophied thyroids of hypophysectomised tadpoles. The first attempts
to isolate ~TSH came a decade later, when Janssen and Loeser
(1931) used trichloroacetic acid to separate the soluble ~TSH
from insoluble impurities. After their work other investigators applied
salt-fractionation techniques to the problem, as well as fractionation
with organic solvents, such as acetone. Albert (1949) has concluded
that the most active preparations of ~TSH made during this period,
from 1931 to 1945, were probably about 100 to 300 times as potent
as the starting material. Much of this work has been reviewed by
White (1944) and by Albert (1949). Developments up to about 1957 have
been discussed by Sonenberg (1958). In the last few years,
the application of chromatographic and other modern techniques to the
problem of isolating ~TSH has led to further purification (Bates
and Condliffe, 1960; Pierce, Carsten and Wynston, 1960). The most
active preparations obtained by these two groups of investigators
appear to be similar in potency, composition and physical properties.

Two problems present themselves in considering any hormone in

blood. First, is the circulating form of the hormone the same as that
found in the gland where it is synthesised and stored? Second, what
is its concentration in normal circumstances and in what circumstances
will this concentration depart from the normal level and in which direction?
It is therefore necessary to consider the properties of pituitary
~TSH if the fragmentary chemical information about blood
~TSH is to be discussed rationally. The importance of knowing in
what chemical forms the hormone may exist is accentuated by the recent
observation that there exists an abnormally long-acting ~TSH in
blood drawn from many thyrotoxic patients (Adams, 1958). Whether this
abnormal ~TSH differs chemically from pituitary ~TSH, or
is, alternatively, normal ~TSH with its period of effectiveness
modified
by some other blood constituent, cannot be decided without chemical
study of the activity in the blood of these patients and a comparison
of the substance responsible for the blood activity with pituitary
~TSH. In evaluating data on the concentration of ~TSH
in blood, one must examine critically the bio-assay methods used
to obtain them. The introduction of the United States Pharmacopoeia
reference standard in 1952 and the redefinition and equating of the
~USP and international units of thyroid-stimulating activity have
made it possible to compare results published by different investigators
since that time. We should like to re-emphasise the importance of
stating results solely in terms of international units of ~TSH activity
and of avoiding the re-introduction of biological units. For
the most part, this discussion will be confined to results obtained since
the introduction of the reference standard. _A. STANDARD PREPARATIONS
AND UNITS OF THYROID-STIMULATING ACTIVITY_ The international
unit
(u&), adopted to make possible the comparison of results from different
laboratories (Mussett and Perry, 1955), has been defined as the
amount of activity present in 13.5 ~mg of the International Standard
Preparation. The international unit is equipotent with the ~USP
unit adopted in 1952, which was defined as the amount of activity
present in 20 ~mg of the ~USP reference substance.

#INTRODUCTION#

Muscle weakness is now recognized as an uncommon though

serious complication of steroid therapy, with most of the synthetic
adrenal corticosteroids in clinical use. Although biopsies have
shown structural changes in some of the reported cases of steroid-induced
weakness, this case provides the only example known to us in which
necropsy afforded the opportunity for extensive study of multiple muscle
groups. The case described in this paper is that of an older man
who developed disabling muscular weakness while receiving a variety of
steroids for a refractory anemia.

#REPORT OF CASE#

This patient
was a 65-year-old white male accountant who entered the New York Hospital
for his fourth and terminal admission on June 26, 1959, because
of disabling weakness and general debility. In 1953 the patient
developed an unexplained anemia for which 15 blood transfusions were
given over a period of 4 years. Splenomegaly was first noted in 1956,
and a sternal marrow biopsy at that time showed "scattered foci
of fibrosis" suggestive of myelofibrosis. No additional transfusions
were necessary after the institution of prednisone in July, 1957,
in an initial dose of 40 mg& daily with gradual tapering to 10 mg&
daily. This medication was continued until February, 1958. In
February, 1958, the patient suffered a myocardial infarction complicated
by pulmonary edema. Additional findings at this time included
cardiomegaly, peripheral arteriosclerosis obliterans, and cholelithiasis.
The hemoglobin was 11.6 gm&. Therapy included digitalization and
anticoagulation. Later, chlorothiazide and salt restriction became
necessary to control the edema of chronic congestive failure.
Because of increasing anemia, triamcinolone, 8 mg& daily, was started
on Feb& 23, 1958, and was continued until july, 1958. In september,
1958, the patient developed generalized weakness and fatigue which
was concurrent with exacerbation of his anemia; the hemoglobin was
10.6 gm&. In an attempt to reverse the downhill trend by stimulating
the bone marrow and controlling any hemolytic component, triamcinolone,
16 mg& daily, was begun on Sept& 26, 1958, and continued until
Feb& 18, 1959. At first the patient felt stronger, and the hemoglobin
rose to 13.8 gm&, but on Oct& 20, 1958, he complained of "caving
in" in his knees. By Nov& 8, 1958, weakness, specifically
involving the pelvic and thigh musculature, was pronounced, and a common
complaint was "difficulty in stepping up on to curbs". Prednisone,
30 mg& daily, was substituted for triamcinolone from Nov&
22 until Dec& 1, 1958, without any improvement in the weakness. Serum
potassium at this time was 3.8 mEq& per liter, and the hemoglobin
was 13.9 gm& By Dec& 1, 1958, the weakness in the pelvic and
quadriceps muscle groups was appreciably worse, and it became difficult
for the patient to rise unaided from a sitting or reclining position.
Triamcinolone, 16 mg& daily, was resumed and maintained until Feb&
18, 1959. Chlorothiazide was omitted for a 2-week period, but there
was no change in the muscle weakness. At this time a detailed
neuromuscular examination revealed diffuse muscle atrophy that was
moderate in the hands and feet, but marked in the shoulders, hips, and
pelvic girdle, with hypoactive deep-tendon reflexes. No fasciculations
or sensory defects were found. Electromyography revealed no evidence
of lower motor neuron disease. Thyroid function tests yielded normal
results. The protein-bound iodine was 6.6|mg& %, and the radioactive
iodine uptake over the thyroid gland was 46% in 24 hours,
with a conversion ratio of 12%. A Schilling test demonstrated normal
absorption of vitamin **f. In February, 1959, during the second
admission to The New York Hospital, a biopsy specimen of the left
gastrocnemius showed striking increase in the sarcolemmal sheath nuclei
and shrunken muscle fibers in several sections. Serial serum potassium
levels remained normal; the serum glutamic oxaloacetic transaminase
was 10 units per ml& per min&. The clinical impression at this
time was either muscular dystrophy or polymyositis. On Feb&
12, 1959, purified corticotropin (~ACTH Gel), 20 units daily
intramuscularly, was started but had to be discontinued 3 weeks later
because of excessive fluid retention. From March 3 to May 1, 1949,
the patient was maintained on dexamethasone, 3 to 6 mg& daily. In
May 1959, prednisone, 30 mg& daily, replaced the dexamethasone. Muscle
weakness did not improve, and the patient needed first a cane, then
crutches. In spite of normal thyroid function tests, a trial of propylthiouracil,
400 mg& daily for one week, was given but served only
to intensify muscle weakness. Repeated attempts to withdraw steroids
entirely were unsuccessful because increased muscle weakness resulted,
as well as fever, malaise, anorexia, anxiety, and an exacerbation of
the anemia. These reactions were interpreted as being manifestations
of hypoadrenocorticism. Severe back pain in June, 1959, prompted
a third hospital admission. Extensive osteoporosis with partial
collapse of ~D8 was found. A high-protein diet, calcium lactate supplements,
and norethandrolone failed to change the skeletal complaint
or the severe muscle weakness. The terminal hospital admission
on June 27, 1959, was necessitated by continued weakness and debility
complicated by urinary retention and painful thrombosed hemorrhoids.
X-ray films of the vertebral column showed progression of the demineralization.
On July 4, 1959, the patient developed marked abdominal
pain and distension, went into shock, and died.

#FINDINGS AT NECROPSY#

The body was that of a well-developed, somewhat debilitated white

man weighing 108 lb& There were bilateral pterygia and arcus senilis,
and the mouth was edentulous. The heart weighed 510 gm&,
and at the outflow tracts the left and right ventricles measured 19
and 3 mm&, respectively. The coronary arteries were sclerotic and
diffusely narrowed throughout their courses, and the right coronary artery
was virtually occluded by a yellow atheromatous plaque 1.5 cm& distal
to its origin. The myocardium of the posterior base of the left
ventricle was replaced by gray scar tissue over a 7.5 cm& area. The
valves were normal except for thin yellow plaques on the inferior surface
of the mitral leaflets. Microscopically, sections from the posterior
base of the left ventricle of the heart showed several large areas
of replacement of muscle by fibrous tissue. In addition, other sections
contained focal areas of recent myocardial necrosis that were infiltrated
with neutrophils. Many of the myocardial fibers were hypertrophied
and had large, irregular, basophilic nuclei. The intima of the
larger coronary arteries was thickened by fibrous tissue containing
fusiform clefts and mononuclear cells. The intimal surface of
the aorta was covered with confluent, yellow-brown, hard, friable plaques
along its entire course, and there was a marked narrowing of the orifices
of the large major visceral arteries. In particular, the orifices
of the right renal and celiac arteries were virtually occluded, and
both calcified common iliac arteries were completely occluded.

The lungs weighed together 950 gm&. On the surfaces of both lungs
there were emphysematous blebs measuring up to 3 cm& in diameter.
The parenchyma was slightly hyperemic in the apex of the left lung,
and there were several firm, gray, fibrocalcific nodules measuring as
large as 3 mm&. Microscopically, there was emphysema, fibrosis, and
vascular congestion. Macrophages laden with brown pigment were seen
in some of the alveoli, and the intima of some of the small arteries was
thickened by fibrous tissue. The firm red spleen weighed 410
gm&, and its surface was mottled by discrete, small patches of white
material. The endothelial cells lining the sinusoids were prominent,
and many contained large quantities of hemosiderin. Some of the sinusoids
contained large numbers of nucleated red cells, and cells of the
granulocytic series were found in small numbers. There were slight
fibrosis and marked arteriolosclerosis. The liver weighed 2,090
gm&, was brown in color, and the cut surface was mottled by irregular
pale areas. Microscopically, there was hyperemia of the central veins,
and there was some atrophy of adjacent parenchyma. Some liver cord
cells contained vacuolated cytoplasm, while others had small amounts
of brown hemosiderin pigment. The gallbladder contained about
40 cc& of green-brown bile and 3 smooth, dark-green calculi measuring
up to 1 cm& in diameter. The mucosa of the stomach was
atrophic and irregularly blackened over a 14 cm& area. The small and
large intestines were filled with gas, and the jejunum was dilated to
about 2 times its normal circumference. The small intestine and colon
contained approximately 300 cc& of foul-smelling, sanguineous material,
and the mucosa throughout was hyperemic and mottled green-brown.
A careful search failed to show occlusion of any of the mesenteric
vessels. Microscopically, the mucosa of the stomach showed extensive
cytolysis and contained large numbers of Gram-negative bacterial rods.
The submucosa was focally infiltrated with neutrophils. The mucosa
of the jejunum and ileum showed similar changes, and in some areas the
submucosa was edematous and contained considerable numbers of neutrophils.
Some of the small vessels were filled with fibrin thrombi, and
there was extensive interstitial hemorrhage. A section of the colon
revealed intense hyperemia and extensive focal ulcerations of the mucosa,
associated with much fibrin and many neutrophils. Cultures taken
from the jejunum yielded Monilia albicans, Pseudomonas pyocanea, Aerobacter
aerogenes, and Streptococcus anhemolyticus. The kidneys
were pale and weighed right, 110 gm&, and left, 230 gm&. The
surfaces were coarsely and finely granular and punctuated by clear, fluid-filled
cysts measuring up to 3 cm& in diameter. On the surface
of the right kidney there were also 2 yellow, firm, friable raised areas
measuring up to 2 cm& in diameter. Microscopically, both kidneys
showed many small cortical scars in which there was glomerular and interstitial
fibrosis, tubular atrophy, and an infiltration of lymphocytes
and plasma cells. Occasional tubules contained hyaline casts admixed
with neutrophils. Throughout, there were marked arteriolosclerosis
and hyalinization of afferent glomerular arterioles. These changes
were more marked in the atrophic right kidney than in the left. In addition,
there were 2 small papillary adenomas in the right kidney.

The bone of the vertebral bodies, ribs, and sternum was soft and
was easily compressed. The marrow of the vertebral bodies was pale and
showed areas of fatty replacement. Microscopically, there were many
areas of hypercellularity alternating with areas of hypocellularity.
The cells of the erythroid, myeloid, and megakaryocytic series were normal
except for their numbers. There was no evidence of fibrosis. The
muscles of the extremities, chest wall, neck, and abdominal wall were
soft, pale, and atrophic. Microscopic studies of the gastrocnemius,
pectoralis major, transversus abdominis, biceps brachii, and diaphragm
showed atrophy as well as varying degrees of injury ranging from
swelling and vacuolization to focal necrosis of the muscle fibers.
These changes were most marked in the gastrocnemius and biceps and less
evident in the pectoralis, diaphragm, and transversus. In
the
gastrocnemius and biceps there were many swollen and homogeneous necrotic
fibers such as that shown in Figure 2. Such swollen fibers were
deeply eosinophilic, contained a few pyknotic nuclei, and showed loss
of cross-striations, obliteration of myofibrils, and prominent vacuolization.
The necrosis often involved only a portion of the length of
a given fiber, and usually the immediately adjacent fibers were normal.
As shown in Figure 3, the protoplasm of other fibers was pale, granular,
or flocculated and invaded by phagocytes. Inflammatory cells
were strikingly absent. In association with these changes in the fibers,
there were striking alterations in the muscle nuclei. These were
increased both in number and in size, contained prominent nucleoli,
and were distributed throughout the fiber (Figs& 2-5). In contrast
to the nuclear changes described above, another change in muscle nuclei
was seen, usually occurring in fibers that were somewhat smaller than
normal but that showed distinct cross-striations and myofibrillae.
The nuclei of these fibers, as is shown in Figures 3 and 4, showed remarkable
proliferation and were closely approximated, forming a chainlike
structure at either the center or the periphery of the fiber. Individual
nuclei were usually oval to round, though occasionally elongated,
and frequently small and somewhat pyknotic. At times, clumps of
10 to 15 closely-packed nuclei were also observed. Occasionally there
were small basophilic fibers that were devoid of myofibrillae and contained
many vesicular nuclei with prominent nucleoli (Fig& 5). These
were thought to represent regenerating fibers. Trichrome stains failed
to show fibrosis in the involved muscles. In all of the sections
examined, the arterioles and small arteries were essentially normal.
_PURIFICATION OF THE CONJUGATES_ In attempting to improve specificity
of staining, the fluorescein-labeled antisera used in both direct
and indirect methods were treated in one of several ways: (1) They
were passed through Dowex-2-chloride twice and treated with acetone
insoluble powders (Coons, 1958) prepared from mouse liver or from healthy
sweet clover stems or crown gall tissue produced by <Agrobacterium
tumefaciens> (E& F& Smith + Townsend) Conn, on sweet clover
stems.
(2) The conjugates as well as the intermediate sera were absorbed
for 30 minutes with 20-50 ~mg of proteins extracted from healthy sweet
clover stems. The proteins were extracted with 3 volumes of **f in
**f to give a nearly neutral extract and precipitated by 80% saturation
with **f. The precipitate was washed twice with an 80% saturated
solution of **f, dissolved in a small quantity of 0.1 ~<M> neutral
phosphate buffer, dialyzed against cold distilled water till free
from ammonium ions, and lyophilized using liquid nitrogen. (3) In other
experiments the indirect conjugate was treated with 3 volumes of
ethyl acetate as recommended by Dineen and Ade (1957). (4) The conjugates
were passed through a diethylaminoethyl (~DEAE-) cellulose
column equilibrated with neutral phosphate buffer (~PBS) containing
**f potassium phosphate and **f. _PREPARATION OF FROZEN SECTIONS_
The technique of cutting sections was essentially the same as that
described by Coons <et al>& (1951). Root and stem tumors from
sweet clover plants infected with ~WTV were quick-frozen in liquid
nitrogen, embedded in ice, and cut at 3-6 ~|m in a cryostat maintained
at -16` to -20`. The sections were mounted on cold slides
smeared with Haupts' adhesive (Johansen, 1940) in earlier experiments,
and in later experiments with a different mixture of the same components
reported by Schramm and Ro^ttger (1959). The latter adhesive
was found to be much more satisfactory. The sections were then
thawed by placing a finger under the slide and dried under a fan for
30 minutes; until used they were stored for as long as 2 weeks. _STAINING
TECHNIQUE_ _INDIRECT METHOD._ The sections were fixed
in
acetone for 15 minutes and dried at 37` for 30 minutes. Some of them
were then covered with a drop of **f in a moist chamber at 24` for
30-40 minutes. As controls other sections were similarly covered with
~NS. Sections were then washed with ~PBS for 15-30 minutes.
After blotting out most of the saline around the sections, a drop
of **f was layered over each of the sections, allowed to react for 30
minutes, and then washed with ~PBS for 15-30 minutes. After blotting
out most of the liquid around the sections, the latter were mounted
in buffered glycerine (7 parts glycerine to 3 parts of ~PBS).
_DIRECT METHOD._ After drying the sections under the fan, fixing
in acetone, and drying at 37` as in the indirect method, the sections
were treated with conjugated **f or **f (undiluted unless mentioned
otherwise) for 5-30 minutes. As controls, other sections were similarly
treated with **f or conjugated antiserum to the New York strain of
potato yellow-dwarf virus (Wolcyrz and Black, 1956). The sections
were then washed with ~PBS for 15-30 minutes and mounted in buffered
glycerine. _FLUORESCENCE MICROSCOPY_ Stained or unstained sections
were examined under dark field illumination in a Zeiss fluorescence
microscope equipped with a mercury vapor lamp (Osram ~HBO
200). The light beam from the lamp was filtered through a half-standard
thickness Corning 1840 filter. In the eyepiece a Wratten 2 ~B
filter was used to filter off residual ultra-violet light. A red filter,
Zeiss barrier filter with the code (Schott) designation ~BG
23, was also used in the ocular lens assembly as it improved the contrast
between specific and nonspecific fluorescence.

#RESULTS#

_SPECIFICITY
OF STAINING_ _INDIRECT METHOD._ In the first few experiments
**f was passed through Dowex-2-chloride twice and absorbed
twice with 50-100 ~mg sweet clover tissue powder. The intermediate
sera were also similarly absorbed with tissue powder. Sections of sweet
clover stem and root tumors were treated with 1:10 solution of **f
for 30 minutes, washed in buffered saline for 15 minutes, stained with
**f for 30 minutes, and washed for 15 minutes in ~PBS. Such sections
showed bright yellow-green specific fluorescence in the cells
of the pseudophloem tissue (Lee and Black, 1955). This specific fluorescence
was readily distinguished from the light green nonspecific fluorescence
in consecutive sections stained with 1:10 dilution of ~NS
and **f or with **f alone. Unstained sections mounted in buffered
glycerine or sections treated only with ~NS or **f did not show
such green fluorescence. Sections of crown gall tissue similarly stained
with either **f and **f or ~NS and **f also showed only the light
green nonspecific fluorescence. However, the nonspecific staining
by the **f in tumor sections was considered bright enough to be confused
with the staining of small amounts of ~WTV antigen.
Two absorptions of **f with ethyl acetate or two absorptions of **f (which
had been passed through Dowex-2-chloride), ~NS and **f with
crown gall tissue powder, or mouse liver powder did not further improve
the specificity of staining. Treatment of all the sera with sweet
clover proteins greatly reduced nonspecific fluorescence, especially when
the treated conjugate was diluted to 1:2 with 0.85% saline. In
all the above procedures, when the intermediate sera were diluted to
1:10 or 1:100 with 0.85% saline, the specific and nonspecific fluorescence
were not appreciably reduced, whereas, a dilution of the intermediate
sera to 1:500 or diluting the **f to 1:5 greatly reduced
specific fluorescence. Rinsing the sections with ~PBS before
layering
the intermediate sera did not improve the staining reaction. In addition
to other treatments, treating the sections with normal sheep serum
for half an hour before layering **f did not reduce nonspecific staining.

The only treatment by which nonspecific staining could

be satisfactorily
removed was by passing the conjugate through a ~DEAE-cellulose
column. When 1 ~ml of conjugate was passed through a column
(**f), the first and second milliliter fractions collected were the
most
specific and gave no nonspecific staining in some experiments, and
very little in others. In the latter cases an additional treatment of
the ~DEAE-cellulose-treated **f with 50 ~mg of sweet clover stem
tissue powder further improved the specificity. After these treatments
the conjugate did not stain healthy or crown gall sweet clover tissues
or stained them a very faint green which was easily distinguishable
from the bright yellow-green specific staining. With this purified
conjugate the best staining procedure consisted of treating the sections
with 1:10 dilution of **f for 30 minutes, washing with ~PBS
for 15 minutes, staining with **f for 30 minutes, and washing with
~PBS for 15 minutes. The specificity of staining in ~WTV tumors
with **f and **f but not with ~NS and **f or with antiserum to
potato yellow-dwarf virus and **f, and the absence of such staining
in crown gall tumor tissue from sweet-clover, indicate that an antigen
of ~WTV was being stained. _DIRECT METHOD._ **f was first conjugated
with 50 ~mg of ~FITC per gram of globulin. This conjugate
was passed twice through Dowex-2-chloride and treated with various
tissue powders in the same manner as described for the indirect method.
In all cases a disturbing amount of nonspecific staining was still
present although it was still distinguishable from specific fluorescence.

In later experiments, **f and **f were prepared by conjugating

8 ~mg of ~FITC per gram of globulin. These conjugates
**f had much less nonspecific staining than the previous conjugate (with
50 ~mg ~FITC per gram of globulin) while the specific staining
was similar in both cases. Nonspecific staining could be satisfactorily
eliminated by passing these conjugates through a ~DEAE-cellulose
column as described for **f. The best staining procedure with
this purified **f consisted of staining with the conjugate for 30
minutes and washing in ~PBS for 15 minutes. The specificity of
staining with **f was established as follows: **f specifically stained
tumor sections but not sections of healthy sweet clover stems or
of crown gall tumor tissue from sweet clover. Sections of tumors incited
by ~WTV were not similarly stained with conjugated normal serum
or conjugated antiserum to potato yellow-dwarf virus. After
passing **f through ~DEAE-cellulose, the titer of antibodies to
~WTV in the specific fraction was 1:4 of the titer before such
passage (precipitin ring tests by R& F& Whitcomb); but mere dilution
of the conjugate to 1:4 did not satisfactorily remove nonspecific
staining. This indicates that increase in specificity of **f after
passing it through ~DEAE-cellulose was not merely due to dilution.

Specific staining by ~DEAE-cellulose treated **f

and **f, although clearly distinguishable under the microscope from either
nonspecific staining or autofluorescence of cells, was not satisfactorily
photographed to show such differences in spite of many attempts
with black and white and color photography. This was chiefly because
of the bluish white autofluorescence from the cells. The autofluorescence
from the walls of the xylem cells was particularly brilliant.
_DISTRIBUTION OF VIRUS ANTIGEN_ Results of specific staining by the
direct and the indirect methods were similar and showed the localization
of ~WTV antigen in certain tissues of tumors. The virus antigen
was concentrated in the pseudophloem tissue. Frequently a few isolated
thick-walled cells or, rarely, groups of such cells in the xylem region,
were also specifically stained, but there was no such staining
in epidermis, cortex, most xylem cells, ray cells, or pith. Within
the pseudophloem cells the distribution of ~WTV antigen was
irregular in the cytoplasm. No antigen was detectable in certain dark
spherical areas in most cells. These areas are thought to represent
the
nuclei. In some tumor sections small spherical bodies, possibly inclusion
bodies (Littau and Black, 1952) stained more intensely than
the rest of cytoplasm and probably contained more antigen. In all cases
studied tissues of the stem on which the tumor had developed did not
contain detectable amounts of ~WTV antigen.

#DISCUSSION#

In
both the direct and indirect methods of staining, the conjugates had
nonspecifically staining fractions. In the indirect method, this was
evident from the fact that tumor sections were stained light green
even when stained with ~NS and **f or with **f only. In the direct
method, **f, not further treated, stained certain tissues of healthy
sweet clover stems nonspecifically and ~WTV tumor sections were similarly
stained by comparable **f. After **f and **f were passed through
Dowex-2-chloride twice and treated twice with healthy sweet clover
tissue powder, nonspecific staining was greatly reduced but a disturbing
amount of such staining was still present. Treatment of the conjugates
with ethyl acetate, and the conjugates (which had been passed
through Dowex-2-chloride) with mouse liver powder, sweet clover crown
gall tissue powder, or healthy sweet clover proteins did not satisfactorily
remove nonspecifically staining substances in the conjugates. Such
treatments of the conjugates have usually been successful in eliminating
nonspecific staining in several other systems (Coons, 1958). Schramm
and Ro^ttger (1959) did not report any such nonspecific staining
of plant tissues with fluorescein isocyanate-labeled antiserum to tobacco
mosaic virus. The reason for the failure of these treatments to
eliminate nonspecific staining in the conjugates in our system is not
known. In our work the best procedure for removing substances
causing nonspecific staining in order to obtain specific conjugates was
to pass the conjugates through a ~DEAE-cellulose
column and in some cases to absorb the first and second
milliliter fractions with sweet clover tissue powder. The
specific
staining by both direct and indirect methods showed that ~WTV antigen
was concentrated in the pseudophloem tissue and in a few thick-walled
cells in the xylem region, but was not detectable in any other
tissues of the root and stem tumors. A study of the distribution of ~WTV
antigen within the pseudophloem cells indicates that it is irregularly
distributed in the cytoplasm. Wound-tumor virus is a leafhopper
transmitted virus not easily transmissible by mechanical inoculation
(Black, 1944; Brakke <et al>&, 1954). The concentration
and
apparent localization of the ~WTV antigen in pseudophloem tissue
of the tumor may indicate that the virus preferentially multiplies
in the phloem and may need to be directly placed in this tissue in order
to infect plants.

Since emotional reactions in the higher vertebrates depend on

individual experience and are aroused in man, in addition, by complex
symbols, one would expect that the hypothalamus could be excited from
the cortex. In experiments with topical application of strychnine on
the cerebral cortex, the transmission of impulses from the cortex to the
hypothalamus was demonstrated. Moreover, the responsiveness of the
hypothalamus to nociceptive stimulation is greatly increased under these
conditions. Even more complex and obviously cortically induced forms
of emotional arousal could be elicited in monkey ~<A> on seeing
monkey ~<B> (but not a rabbit) in emotional stress. A previously
extinguished conditioned reaction was restored in monkey ~<A>
and was associated
with typical signs of emotional excitement including sympathetic
discharges. It seems to follow that by and large an antagonism
exists between the paleo- and the neocortex as far as emotional reactivity
is concerned, and that the balance between the two systems determines
the emotional responsiveness of the organism. In addition, the
neocortical-hypothalamic relations play a great role in primates, as
Mirsky's interesting experiment on the "communication of affect"
demonstrates. But even in relatively primitive laboratory animals
such as the rat, sex activity closely identified with the hypothalamus
and the visceral brain is enhanced by the neocortex. MacLean stressed
correctly the importance of the visceral brain for preservation of
the individual and the species, as evidenced by the influence of the
limbic brain (including the hypothalamus) on emotions related to fight
and flight and also on sexual functions. It should be added that in
man
neocortical-hypothalamic interrelations probably play a role in the fusion
of emotional processes with those underlying perception, memory,
imagination, and creativity. Previous experiences are obviously
of great importance for the qualitative and quantitative emotional
response. The visceral brain as well as the neocortex is known to contribute
to memory, but this topic is beyond the scope of this
paper. #/13,. HYPOTHALAMIC BALANCE AND ITS SIGNIFICANCE#

After
this brief discussion of neo-, paleocortical, and cortico-hypothalamic
relations, let us return once more to the problem of hypothalamic balance
and its physiological and pathological significance. Facilitatory
processes take place between neocortex and hypothalamus via ascending
and descending pathways. Thus cortico-fugal discharges induced by topical
application of strychnine to a minute area in the neocortex summate
with spikes present in the hypothalamus and cause increased convulsive
discharges. On the other hand, the temporary reduction in hypothalamic
excitability through the injection of a barbiturate into the posterior
hypothalamus causes a lessening in frequency and amplitude of
cortical strychnine spikes until the hypothalamic excitability is restored.
Apparently, a positive feedback exists between the posterior hypothalamus
and the cerebral cortex. Consequently, if for any reason
the hypothalamic excitability falls below the physiological level, the
lessened hypothalamic-cortical discharges lead to a diminished state
of activity in the cortex with consequent reduction in the cortico-fugal
discharges. Obviously, a vicious cycle develops. This tendency can
be broken either by restoring hypothalamic excitability directly or
via cortico-hypothalamic pathways. It is believed that drug therapy
and electroshock involve the former and psychotherapy the latter mechanism.

Before we comment further on these pathological conditions,

we should remember that changes in the state of the hypothalamus within
physiological limits distinguish sleep from wakefulness. Thus,
a low intensity of hypothalamic-cortical discharges prevails in sleep
and a high one during wakefulness, resulting in synchronous ~EEG
potentials in the former and asynchrony in the latter condition. Moreover,
the dominance in parasympathetic action (with reciprocal inhibition
of the sympathetic) at the hypothalamic level induces, by its peripheral
action, the autonomic symptoms of sleep and, by its action on the
cortex, a lessening in the reactivity of the sensory and motor apparatus
of the somatic nervous system. With the dominance of the sympathetic
division of the hypothalamus, the opposite changes occur. Since
electrical stimulation of the posterior hypothalamus produces the effects
of wakefulness while stimulation of the anterior hypothalamus induces
sleep, it may be said that the reactivity of the whole organism is
altered by a change in the autonomic reactivity of the hypothalamus.
Similar effects can be induced reflexly via the baroreceptor reflexes
in man and animals. Of particular importance is the study of
the actions of drugs in this respect. Although no drugs act exclusively
on the hypothalamus or a part of it, there is sufficient specificity
to distinguish drugs which shift the hypothalamic balance to the sympathetic
side from those which produce a parasympathetic dominance. The
former comprise analeptic and psychoactive drugs, the latter the tranquilizers.
Specific differences exist in the action of different drugs
belonging to the same group as, for instance, between reserpine and
chlorpromazine. Important as these differences are, they should not
obscure the basic fact that by shifting the hypothalamic balance sufficiently
to the parasympathetic side, we produce depressions, whereas
a shift in the opposite direction causes excitatory effects and, eventually,
maniclike changes. The emotional states produced by drugs influence
the cortical potentials in a characteristic manner; synchrony
prevails in the ~EEG of the experimental animal after administration
of tranquilizers, but asynchrony after application of analeptic and
psychoactive drugs. The shock therapies act likewise on the
hypothalamic balance. Physiological experiments and clinical observations
have shown that these procedures influence the hypothalamically controlled
hypophyseal secretions and increase sympathetic discharges.
They shift the hypothalamic balance to the sympathetic side. This explains
the beneficial effect of electroshock therapy in certain depressions
and a shift in the reaction from hypo- to normal reactivity of the
sympathetic system as shown by the Mecholyl test. Some investigators
have found a parallelism between remissions and return of the sympathetic
reactivity of the hypothalamus to the normal level as indicated
by the Mecholyl test and, conversely, between clinical impairment and
increasing deviation of this test from the norm. Nevertheless, the
theory that the determining influence of the hypothalamic balance has
a profound influence on the clinical behavior of neuropsychiatric patients
has not yet been tested on an adequate number of patients. The
Mecholyl and noradrenalin tests applied with certain precautions are
reliable indicators of this central autonomic balance, but for the sake
of correlating autonomic and clinical states, and of studying the effect
of certain therapeutic procedures on central autonomic reactions,
additional tests seem to be desirable. It was assumed that the
shift in autonomic hypothalamic balance occurring spontaneously in
neuropsychiatric
patients from the application of certain therapeutic procedures
follows the pattern known from the sleep-wakefulness cycle.
A change in the balance to the parasympathetic side leads in the normal
individual to sleep or, in special circumstances, to cardiovascular
collapse or nausea and vomiting. In both conditions the emotional and
perceptual sensitivity is diminished, but no depression occurs such
as is seen clinically or may be produced in normal persons by drugs. The
fundamental differences between physiological and pathological states
of parasympathetic (and also of sympathetic) dominance remain to be
elucidated. Perhaps a clue to these and related problems lies
in the fact that changes in the intensity of hypothalamic discharges
which are associated with changes in its balance lead also to <qualitative>
alterations in reactivity. A state of parasympathetic "tuning"
of the hypothalamus induced experimentally causes not only an increase
in the parsympathetic reactivity of this structure to direct and
reflexly induced stimuli, but leads also to an autonomic reversal:
a stimulus acting sympathetically under control conditions elicits in
this state of tuning a parasympathetic response! Furthermore, conditioned
reactions are fundamentally altered when the hypothalamic sympathetic
reactivity is augmented beyond a critical level, and several types
of behavioral changes probably related to the degree of central autonomic
"tuning" are observed. If, for instance, such a change is
produced by one or a few insulin comas or electroshocks, previously
inhibited conditioned reactions reappear. However, if these procedures
are applied more often, conditioned emotional responses are temporarily
abolished. In other studies, loss of differentiation in previously
established conditioned reflexes resulted from repeated convulsive (metrazol)
treatments, suggesting a fundamental disturbance in the balance
between excitatory and inhibitory cerebral processes. It has
further been shown that: (1) an experimental neurosis in its initial
stages is associated with a reversible shift in the central autonomic
balance; (2) drugs altering the hypothalamic balance alter conditioned
reactions; (3) in a state of depression, the positive conditioned
stimulus may fail to elicit a conditioned reaction but cause an increased
synchrony instead of the excitatory desynchronizing (alerting)
effect on the ~EEG. These are few and seemingly disjointed data,
but they illustrate the important fact that fundamental alterations
in conditioned reactions occur in a variety of states in which the hypothalamic
balance has been altered by physiological experimentation,
pharmacological action, or clinical processes. #/14,. ON THE PHYSIOLOGICAL
BASIS OF SOME FORM OF PSYCHOTHERAPY#

The foregoing remarks

imply
that the hypothalamic balance plays a crucial role at the crossroads
between physiological and pathological forms of emotion. If this is
the case, one would expect that not only the various procedures just
mentioned which alter the hypothalamic balance would influence emotional
state and behavior but that emotion itself would act likewise. We
pointed out that emotional excitement may lead to psychosomatic disorders
and neurotic symptoms, particularly in certain types of personality,
but it is also known that the reliving of a strong emotion ("abreaction")
may cure a battle neurosis. This phenomenon raises the question
whether the guidance of the emotions for therapeutic ends may not
have an even wider application in the area of the neuroses. Being
a strictly
physiological procedure, one may expect from such a study additional
information on the nature of the emotional process itself.

Wolpe's experiments and therapeutic work lie in this area. He showed

convincingly that anxiety is a learned (conditioned) reaction and
is the basis of experimental and clinical neuroses and assumed, therefore,
that the neuronal changes which underlie the neuroses are functional
and reversible. An important observation of Pavlov served as a
guide post to achieve such a reversibility by physiological means. In
a conditioning experiment, he demonstrated the antagonism between feeding
and pain. A mild electrical shock served as a conditioned stimulus
and was followed by feeding. The pain became thus the symbol for food
and elicited salivary secretion (conditioned reflex). Even when the
intensity of the shocks was increased gradually, it failed to evoke
any signs of pain. Since strong nociceptive stimuli produce an experimental
neurosis during which the animals fail to eat in the experimental
situation, Wolpe thought that he could utilize the feeding-pain antagonism
to inhibit the neurotic symptoms through feeding. Appropriate
experiments showed that this is, indeed, possible. He then applied
this
principle of reciprocal inhibition to human neuroses. He took advantage
of the antagonism between aggressive assertiveness and anxiety
and found a relatively rapid disappearance of anxiety when the former
attitude was established. For the interpretation of these significant
investigations, it should be remembered that reciprocal relations
exist in the hypothalamus with respect to autonomic and somatic functions
which are closely associated with the emotions. The feeding-pain
antagonism seems to be based on this reciprocal relation between the
tropho- and ergotropic systems. Furthermore, a functional antagonism
exists between an aggressive attitude and a state of anxiety. Although
in both emotions sympathetic symptoms are present, different autonomic-somatic
patterns underlie aggression and anxiety, respectively,
as indicated by the rate of the excretion of the catecholamines, the state
of the muscle tone, and the Mecholyl test. The psychological incompatibility
of these emotional states seems to be reflected in, or based
on, this marked difference. #/15,. CONCLUDING REMARKS#

In
our attempt to interpret the emotions in their physiological and pathological
range, we emphasized the importance of the degree of activity
of the parasympathetic and sympathetic divisions of the hypothalamic system
and their influence on the inhibitory and excitatory systems, respectively.
We stressed the reciprocal relation of these systems with
respect to the autonomic-somatic downward discharge as well as regarding
the hypothalamic-cortical discharge. Although we are still far from
a complete understanding of these problems, as a first approximation,
it is suggested that alterations in the hypothalamic balance with consequent
changes in the hypothalamic-cortical discharges account for
major changes in behavior seen in various moods and states of emotions
in man and beast under physiological circumstances, in experimental and
clinical neurosis, and as the result of psychopharmacological agents.
In view of the important role which emotional disturbances play in
the genesis of neurotic and psychotic disorders and the parallelism
observed between autonomic states and psychological behavior in several
instances, it is further suggested that a hypothalamic imbalance may
play an important role in initiating mental changes.

#6.4. THE PRIMARY DECOMPOSITION THEOREM#

We are trying to study a

linear operator ~<T> on the finite-dimensional space ~<V>,
by decomposing ~<T> into a direct sum of operators which are in some
sense elementary. We can do this through the characteristic values
and vectors of ~<T> in certain special cases, i&e&, when the
minimal polynomial for ~<T> factors over the scalar field ~<F>
into a product of distinct monic polynomials of degree 1. What can
we do with the general ~<T>? If we try to study ~<T> using
characteristic values, we are confronted with two problems. First,
~<T> may not have a single characteristic value; this is really
a deficiency in the scalar field, namely, that it is not algebraically
closed. Second, even if the characteristic polynomial factors completely
over ~<F> into a product of polynomials of degree 1, there
may not be enough characteristic vectors for ~<T> to span the
space ~<V>; this is clearly a deficiency in ~<T>. The second
situation is illustrated by the operator ~<T> on **f (~<F>
any field) represented in the standard basis by **f. The characteristic
polynomial for ~<A> is **f and this is plainly also the minimal
polynomial for ~<A> (or for ~<T>). Thus ~<T> is not
diagonalizable. One sees that this happens because the null space of
**f has dimension 1 only. On the other hand, the null space of **f and
the null space of **f together span ~<V>, the former being the
subspace spanned by **f and the latter the subspace spanned by **f and
**f. This will be more or less our general method for the second
problem. If (remember this is an assumption) the minimal polynomial
for ~<T> decomposes **f where **f are distinct elements of ~<F>,
then we shall show that the space ~<V> is the direct sum
of the null spaces of **f. The diagonalizable operator is the special
case of this in which **f for each ~<i>. The theorem which we prove
is more general than what we have described, since it works with the
primary decomposition of the minimal polynomial, whether or not the primes
which enter are all of first degree. The reader will find it helpful
to think of the special case when the primes are of degree 1, and
even more particularly, to think of the proof of Theorem 10, a special
case of this theorem.

#THEOREM 12. (PRIMARY DECOMPOSITION THEOREM).#

<Let> ~T <be a linear operator on the finite-dimensional
vector space> ~V <over the field> ~F. <Let> ~p <be the
minimal polynomial for> ~T, **f <where the **f are distinct irreducible
monic polynomials over> ~F <and the **f are positive integers.
Let **f be the null space of **f. Then> (a) **f (b) <each **f
is invariant under> ~T (c) <if **f is the operator induced on
**f by> ~T,
<then the minimal polynomial for **f is **f.> _PROOF._
The idea of the proof is this. If the direct-sum decomposition
(a) is valid, how can we get hold of the projections **f associated with
the decomposition? The projection **f will be the identity on **f
and zero on the other **f. We shall find a polynomial **f such that
**f is the identity on **f and is zero on the other **f, and so that
**f, etc&. For each ~<i>, let **f. Since **f are distinct
prime polynomials, the polynomials **f are relatively prime (Theorem
8, Chapter 4). Thus there are polynomials **f such that **f. Note
also that if **f, then **f is divisible by the polynomial ~<p>,
because **f contains each **f as a factor. We shall show that the polynomials
**f behave in the manner described in the first paragraph of
the proof. Let **f. Since **f and ~<p> divides **f for **f,
we have **f. Thus the **f are projections which correspond to some
direct-sum decomposition of the space ~<V>. We wish to show that
the range of **f is exactly the subspace **f. It is clear that each
vector in the range of **f is in **f for if ~|a is in the range of
**f, then **f and so **f because **f is divisible by the minimal polynomial
~<p>. Conversely, suppose that ~|a is in the null space
of **f. If **f, then **f is divisible by **f and so **f, i&e&,
**f. But then it is immediate that **f, i&e&, that ~|a is in
the range of **f. This completes the proof of statement (a).
It is certainly clear that the subspaces **f are invariant under ~<T>.
If **f is the operator induced on **f by ~<T>, then evidently
**f, because by definition **f is 0 on the subspace **f. This shows
that the minimal polynomial for **f divides **f. Conversely, let
~<g> be any polynomial such that **f. Then **f. Thus **f is divisible
by the minimal polynomial ~<p> of ~<T>, i&e&, **f
divides **f. It is easily seen that **f divides ~<g>. Hence the
minimal polynomial for **f is **f.

#COROLLARY.#

<If **f are the

projections associated with the primary decomposition of> ~T, <then
each **f is a polynomial in> ~T, <and accordingly if a linear
operator> ~U <commutes with> ~T <then> ~U <commutes with
each of the **f i&e&, each subspace **f is invariant under> ~U.

In the notation of the proof of Theorem 12, let us take a

look at the special case in which the minimal polynomial for ~<T>
is a product of first-degree polynomials, i&e&, the case in
which
each **f is of the form **f. Now the range of **f is the null space
**f of **f. Let us put **f. By Theorem 10, ~<D> is a diagonalizable
operator which we shall call the {diagonalizable part}
of ~<T>.
Let us look at the operator **f. Now **f **f so **f. The reader
should be familiar enough with projections by now so that he sees that
**f and in general that **f. When **f for each ~<i>, we shall have
**f, because the operator **f will then be 0 on the range of **f.

#DEFINITION.#

<Let> ~N <be a linear operator on the vector

space> ~V. <We say that> ~N <is> {nilpotent} <if there
is some positive integer> ~r <such that> **f.

#THEOREM 13.#

<Let>
~T <be a linear operator on the finite-dimensional vector
space> ~V <over the field> ~F. <Suppose that the minimal polynomial
for> ~T <decomposes over> ~F <into a product of linear
polynomials. Then there is a diagonalizable operator> ~D <on>
~V <and a nilpotent operator> ~N <on> ~V <such that>
(a) **f, (b) **f. <The diagonalizable operator> ~D <and the nilpotent
operator> ~N <are uniquely determined by> (a) <and> (b)
<and
each of them is a polynomial in> ~T. _PROOF._ We have just observed
that we can write **f where ~<D> is diagonalizable and ~<N>
is nilpotent, and where ~<D> and ~<N> not only commute
but are polynomials in ~<T>. Now suppose that we also have **f
where ~<D'> is diagonalizable, ~<N'> is nilpotent, and
**f. We shall prove that **f. Since ~<D'> and ~<N'>
commute with one another and **f, we see that ~<D'> and ~<N'>
commute with ~<T>. Thus ~<D'> and ~<N'>
commute with any polynomial in ~<T>; hence they commute with ~<D>
and with ~<N>. Now we have **f or **f and all four of these
operators commute with one another. Since ~<D> and ~<D'>
are both diagonalizable and they commute, they are simultaneously
diagonalizable, and **f is diagonalizable. Since ~<N> and ~<N'>
are both nilpotent and they commute, the operator **f is nilpotent;
for, using the fact that ~<N> and ~<N'> commute **f
and so when ~<r> is sufficiently large every term in this expression
for **f will be 0. (Actually, a nilpotent operator on an ~<n>-dimensional
space must have its ~<n>th power 0; if we take **f
above, that will be large enough. It then follows that **f is large
enough, but this is not obvious from the above expression.) Now **f is
a diagonalizable operator which is also nilpotent. Such an operator
is obviously the zero operator; for since it is nilpotent, the minimal
polynomial for this operator is of the form **f for some **f; but
then since the operator is diagonalizable, the minimal polynomial cannot
have a repeated root; hence **f and the minimal polynomial is simply
~<x>, which says the operator is 0. Thus we see that **f and
**f.

#COROLLARY.#

<Let> ~V <be a finite-dimensional vector

space over an algebraically closed field> ~F, <e&g&, the field
of complex numbers. Then every linear operator> ~T <on> ~V
<can be written as the sum of a diagonalizable operator> ~D <and
a nilpotent operator> ~N <which commute. These operators> ~D
<and> ~N <are unique and each is a polynomial in> ~T.

From these results, one sees that the study of linear operators
on vector spaces over an algebraically closed field is essentially reduced
to the study of nilpotent operators. For vector spaces over non-algebraically
closed fields, we still need to find some substitute for
characteristic values and vectors. It is a very interesting fact that
these two problems can be handled simultaneously and this is what we
shall do in the next chapter. In concluding this section, we
should like to give an example which illustrates some of the ideas of
the primary decomposition theorem. We have chosen to give it at the
end of the section since it deals with differential equations and thus
is not purely linear algebra.

#EXAMPLE 11.#

In the primary decomposition

theorem, it is not necessary that the vector space ~<V>
be finite dimensional, nor is it necessary for parts (a) and (b) that
~<p> be the
minimal polynomial for ~<T>. If ~<T> is a linear operator
on an arbitrary vector space and <if> there is a monic polynomial
~<p> such that **f, then parts (a) and (b) of Theorem 12 are valid
for ~<T> with the proof which we gave. Let ~<n> be
a positive integer and let ~<V> be the space of all ~<n> times
continuously differentiable functions ~<f> on the real line which
satisfy the differential equation **f where **f are some fixed constants.
If **f denotes the space of ~<n> times continuously differentiable
functions, then the space ~<V> of solutions of this differential
equation is a subspace of **f. If ~<D> denotes the differentiation
operator and ~<p> is the polynomial **f then ~<V>
is the null space of the operator ~<p(D)>, because **f simply says
**f. Let us now regard ~<D> as a linear operator on the subspace
~<V>. Then **f. If we are discussing differentiable complex-valued
functions, then **f and ~<V> are complex vector spaces,
and **f may be any complex numbers. We now write **f where **f are
distinct complex numbers. If **f is the null space of **f, then Theorem
12 says that **f. In other words, if ~<f> satisfies the differential
equation **f, then ~<f> is uniquely expressible in the
form **f where **f satisfies the differential equation **f. Thus, the
study of the solutions to the equation **f is reduced to the study of
the space of solutions of a differential equation of the form **f. This
reduction has been accomplished by the general methods of linear algebra,
i&e&,
by the primary decomposition theorem. To describe
the space of solutions to **f, one must know something about differential
equations, that is, one must know something about ~<D> other
than the fact that it is a linear operator. However, one does not
need to know very much. It is very easy to establish by induction on
~<r> that if ~<f> is in **f then **f that is, **f, etc&. Thus
**f if and only if **f. A function ~<g> such that **f, i&e&,
**f, must be a polynomial function of degree **f or less: **f.
Thus ~<f> satisfies **f if and only if ~<f> has the form **f.
Accordingly, the 'functions' **f span the space of solutions of
**f. Since **f are linearly independent functions and the exponential
function has no zeros, these ~<r> functions **f, form a basis for
the space of solutions.

#7-1. EXAMPLES OF BINOMIAL EXPERIMENTS#

Some experiments are composed

of repetitions of independent trials, each with <two> possible
outcomes. The binomial probability distribution may describe the variation
that occurs from one set of trials of such a <binomial> experiment
to another. We devote a chapter to the binomial distribution not
only because it is a mathematical model for an enormous variety of real
life phenomena, but also because it has important properties that recur
in many other probability models. We begin with a few examples of
binomial experiments. _MARKSMANSHIP EXAMPLE._ A trained marksman
shooting five rounds at a target, all under practically the same conditions,
may hit the bull's-eye from 0 to 5 times. In repeated sets of
five shots his numbers of bull's-eyes vary. What can we say of the
probabilities of the different possible numbers of bull's-eyes?
_INHERITANCE IN MICE._ In litters of eight mice from similar parents,
the number of mice with straight instead of wavy hair is an integer
from 0 to 8. What probabilities should be attached to these possible
outcomes? _ACES (ONES) WITH THREE DICE._ When three dice are
tossed repeatedly, what is the probability that the number of aces is
0 (or 1, or 2, or 3)? _GENERAL BINOMIAL PROBLEM._ More generally,
suppose that an experiment consists of a number of independent trials,
that each trial results in either a "success" or a "non-success"
("failure"), and that the probability of success remains constant
from trial to trial. In the examples above, the occurrence of
a bull's-eye,
a straight-haired mouse, or an ace could be called a "success".
In general, any outcome we choose may be labeled "success".

The major question in this chapter is: What is the probability

of exactly ~<x> successes in ~<n> trials? In
Chapters 3 and 4 we answered questions like those in the examples,
usually by counting points in a sample space. Fortunately, a general
formula of wide applicability solves all problems of this kind. Before
deriving this formula, we explain what we mean by "problems of this
kind". Experiments are often composed of several identical
trials, and sometimes experiments themselves are repeated. In the marksmanship
example, a trial consists of "one round shot at a target"
with outcome either one bull's-eye (success) or none (failure).
Further, an experiment might consist of five rounds, and several sets
of five rounds might be regarded as a super-experiment composed of several
repetitions of the five-round experiment. If three dice are tossed,
a trial is one toss of one die and the experiment is composed of
three trials. Or, what amounts to the same thing, if one die is tossed
three times, each toss is a trial, and the three tosses form the experiment.
Mathematically, we shall not distinguish the experiment of
three dice tossed once from that of one die tossed three times. These
examples are illustrative of the use of the words "trial" and "experiment"
as they are used in this chapter, but they are quite flexible
words and it is well not to restrict them too narrowly. _EXAMPLE
1. STUDENT FOOTBALL MANAGERS._ Ten students act as managers for
a high-school football team, and of these managers a proportion ~<p>
are licensed drivers. Each Friday one manager is chosen by lot to
stay late and load the equipment on a truck. On three Fridays the coach
has needed a driver. Considering only these Fridays, what is the
probability that the coach had drivers all 3 times? Exactly 2 times?
1 time? 0 time? _DISCUSSION._ Note that there are 3 trials
of interest. Each trial consists of choosing a student manager at
random. The 2 possible outcomes on each trial are "driver" or "nondriver".
Since the choice is by lot each week, the outcomes of
different trials are independent. The managers stay the same, so that
**f is the same for all weeks. We now generalize these ideas for general
binomial experiments. For an experiment to qualify as a
<binomial experiment>, it must have four properties: (1) there must
be a fixed number of trials, (2) each trial must result in a "success"
or a "failure" (a binomial trial), (3) all trials must have
identical probabilities of success, (4) the trials must be independent
of each other. Below we use our earlier examples to describe and illustrate
these four properties. We also give, for each property, an example
where the property is absent. The language and notation introduced
are standard throughout the chapter. _1. THERE MUST BE A FIXED
NUMBER ~N OF REPEATED TRIALS._ For the marksman, we study sets
of five shots (**f); for the mice, we restrict attention to litters
of eight (**f); and for the aces, we toss three dice (**f). _EXPERIMENT
WITHOUT A FIXED NUMBER OF TRIALS._ Toss a die until an ace appears.
Here the number of trials is a random variable, not a fixed number.
_2. BINOMIAL TRIALS._ Each of the ~<n> trials is either a success
or a failure. "Success" and "failure" are just convenient
labels for the two categories of outcomes when we talk about binomial
trials in general. These words are more expressive than labels like
"~<A>" and "not-~<A>". It is natural from the marksman's
viewpoint to call a bull's-eye a success, but in the mice example
it is arbitrary which category corresponds to straight hair in a mouse.
The word "binomial" means "of two names" or "of two terms",
and both usages apply in our work: the first to the names of the
two outcomes of a binomial trial, and the second to the terms ~<p>
and **f that represent the probabilities of "success" and "failure".
Sometimes when there are many outcomes for a single trial,
we group these outcomes into two classes, as in the example of the die,
where we have arbitrarily constructed the classes "ace" and "not-ace".
_EXPERIMENT WITHOUT THE TWO-CLASS PROPERTY._ We classify
mice as "straight-haired" or "wavy-haired", but a hairless
mouse appears. We can escape from such a difficulty by ruling out the
animal as not constituting a trial, but such a solution is not always
satisfactory. _3. ALL TRIALS HAVE IDENTICAL PROBABILITIES OF SUCCESS._
Each die has probability **f of producing an ace; the marksman
has some probability ~<p>, perhaps 0.1, of making a bull's-eye.
Note that we need not know the value of ~<p>, for the experiment
to be binomial. _EXPERIMENT WHERE ~P IS NOT CONSTANT._ During
a round of target practice the sun comes from behind a cloud and dazzles
the marksman, lowering his chance of a bull's-eye. _4. THE
TRIALS ARE INDEPENDENT._ Strictly speaking, this means that the probability
for each possible outcome of the experiment can be computed by
multiplying together the probabilities of the possible outcomes of the
single binomial trials. Thus in the three-dice example **f, **f, and
the independence assumption implies that the probability that the three
dice fall ace, not-ace, ace in that order is (1/6)(5/6)(1/6). Experimentally,
we expect independence when the trials have nothing to
do with one another. _EXAMPLES WHERE INDEPENDENCE FAILS._ A family
of five plans to go together either to the beach or to the mountains,
and a coin is tossed to decide. We want to know the number of people
going to the mountains. When this experiment is viewed as composed
of five binomial trials, one for each member of the family, the outcomes
of the trials are obviously not independent. Indeed, the experiment
is better viewed as consisting of one binomial trial for the entire
family. The following is a less extreme example of dependence. Consider
couples visiting an art museum. Each person votes for one of a pair
of pictures to receive a popular prize. Voting for one picture may
be called "success", for the other "failure". An experiment
consists of the voting of one couple, or two trials. In repetitions
of the experiment from couple to couple, the votes of the two persons
in a couple probably agree more often than independence would imply, because
couples who visit the museum together are more likely to have similar
tastes than are a random pair of people drawn from the entire population
of visitors. Table 7-1 illustrates the point. The table shows
that 0.6 of the boys and 0.6 of the girls vote for picture ~<A>.
Therefore, under independent voting, **f or 0.36 of the couples would
cast two votes for picture ~<A>, and **f or 0.16 would cast
two votes for picture ~<B>. Thus in independent voting, **f or 0.52
of the couples would agree. But Table 7-1 shows that **f or 0.70 agree,
too many for independent voting. Each performance of an ~<n>-trial
binomial experiment results in some whole number from 0
through ~<n> as the value of the random variable ~<X>, where
**f. We want to study the <probability function> of this random variable.
For example, we are interested in the number of bull's-eyes,
not which shots were bull's-eyes. A binomial experiment can produce
random variables other than the number of successes. For example, the
marksman gets 5 shots, but we take his score to be the number of shots
<before> his first bull's-eye, that is, 0, 1, 2, 3, 4 (or 5, if
he gets no bull's-eye). Thus we do not score the number of bull's-eyes,
and the random variable is not the number of successes.
The constancy of ~<p> and the independence are the conditions most
likely to give trouble in practice. Obviously, very slight changes
in ~<p> do not change the probabilities much, and a slight lack of
independence may not make an appreciable difference. (For instance,
see Example 2 of Section 5-5, on red cards in hands of 5.) On the
other hand, even when the binomial model does not describe well the physical
phenomenon being studied, the binomial model may still be used
as a baseline for comparative purposes; that is, we may discuss the
phenomenon in terms of its departures from the binomial model. _TO
SUMMARIZE:_ A <binomial experiment> consists of **f independent
binomial trials, all with the same probability **f of yielding a success.
The outcome of the experiment is ~<X> successes. The random
variable ~<X> takes the values **f with probabilities **f or, more
briefly **f. We shall find a formula for the probability of
exactly ~<x> successes for given values of ~<p> and ~<n>.
When
each number of successes ~<x> is paired with its probability of
occurrence **f, the set of pairs **f, is a probability function called
a <binomial distribution>. The choice of ~<p> and ~<n> determines
the binomial distribution uniquely, and different choices always
produce different distributions (except when **f; then the number
of successes is always 0). The set of all binomial distributions is
called <the family of binomial distributions>, but in general discussions
this expression is often shortened to "the binomial distribution",
or even "the binomial" when the context is clear. Binomial distributions
were treated by James Bernoulli about 1700, and for this
reason binomial trials are sometimes called <Bernoulli trials>. _RANDOM
VARIABLES._ Each binomial trial of a binomial experiment produces
either 0 or 1 success. Therefore each binomial trial can be thought
of as producing a value of a random variable associated with that
trial and taking the values 0 and 1, with probabilities ~<q> and
~<p> respectively. The several trials of a binomial experiment
produce a new random variable ~<X>, the total number of successes,
which is just the sum of the random variables associated with the single
trials. _EXAMPLE 2._ The marksman gets two bull's-eyes, one
on his third shot and one on his fifth. The numbers of successes on
the five individual shots are, then, 0, 0, 1, 0, 1. The number of successes
on each shot is a value of a random variable that has values 0
or 1, and there are 5 such random variables here. Their sum is ~<X>,
the total number of successes, which in this experiment has the
value **f.

Consider a simple, closed, plane curve ~<C> which is a real-analytic

image of the unit circle, and which is given by **f. These
are real analytic periodic functions with period ~<T>. In the
following paper it is shown that in a certain definite sense, exactly
an odd number of squares can be inscribed in every such curve which does
not contain an infinite number of inscribed squares. This theorem
is similar to the theorem of Kakutani that there exists a circumscribing
cube around any closed, bounded convex set in **f. The latter theorem
has been generalized by Yamabe and Yujobo, and Cairns to show
that in **f there are families of such cubes. Here, for the case of
squares inscribed in plane curves, we remove the restriction to convexity
and give certain other results. A square inscribed in a curve
~<C> means a square with its four corner points on the curve,
though it may not lie entirely in the interior of ~<C>. Indeed,
the spiral **f, with the two endpoints connected by a straight line possesses
only one inscribed square. The square has one corner point on
the straight line segment, and does not lie entirely in the interior.

On ~<C>, from the point ~<P> at **f to the point ~<Q>

at **f, we construct the chord, and upon the chord as a side
erect a square in such a way that as ~<s> approaches zero the square
is inside ~<C>. As ~<s> increases we consider the two free
corner points of the square, **f and **f, adjacent to ~<P> and ~<Q>
respectively. As ~<s> approaches ~<T> the square will
be outside ~<C> and therefore both **f and **f must cross ~<C>
an odd number of times as ~<s> varies from zero to ~<T>.
The points may also touch ~<C> without crossing. Suppose
**f crosses ~<C> when **f. We now have certain squares with three
corners on ~<C>. For any such square the middle corner of these
will be called the vertex of the square and the corner not on the
curve will be called the diagonal point of the square. Each point on
~<C>, as a vertex, may possess a finite number of corresponding diagonal
points by the above construction. To each paired vertex
and diagonal point there corresponds a unique forward corner point,
i&e&, the corner on ~<C> reached first by proceeding along ~<C>
from the vertex in the direction of increasing ~<t>. If the
vertex is at **f, and if the interior of ~<C> is on the left as
one moves in the direction of increasing ~<t>, then every such corner
can be found from the curve obtained by rotating ~<C> clockwise
through 90` about the vertex. The set of intersections of **f,
the rotated curve, with the original curve ~<C> consists of just
the set of forward corner points on ~<C> corresponding to the vertex
at **f, plus the vertex itself. We note that two such curves ~<C>
and **f, cannot coincide at more than a finite number of points;
otherwise, being analytic, they would coincide at all points, which
is impossible since they do not coincide near **f. With each
vertex we associate certain numerical values, namely the set of positive
differences in the parameter ~<t> between the vertex and its corresponding
forward corner points. For the vertex at **f, these values
will be denoted by **f. The function ~<f(t)> defined in this way
is multi-valued. We consider now the graph of the function
~<f(t)> on **f. We will refer to the plane of ~<C> and **f as
the ~<C>-plane and to the plane of the graph as the ~<f>-plane.
The graph, as a set, may have a finite number of components. We
will denote the values of ~<f(t)> on different components by **f.
Each point with abscissa ~<t> on the graph represents an intersection
between ~<C> and **f. There are two types of such intersections,
depending essentially on whether the curves cross at the point
of intersection. An <ordinary> point will be any point of intersection
~<A> such that in every neighborhood of ~<A> in the ~<C>-plane,
**f meets both the interior and the exterior of ~<C>.
Any other point of intersection between ~<C> and **f will be called
a <tangent> point. This terminology will also be applied to the
corresponding points in the ~<f>-plane. We can now prove several
lemmas.

#LEMMA 1.#

<In some neighborhood in the ~f-plane of

any ordinary point of the graph, the function ~f is a single-valued,
continuous function>. _PROOF._ We first show that the function
is
single-valued in some neighborhood. With the vertex at **f in the ~<C>-plane
we assume that **f is the parametric location on ~<C>
of an ordinary intersection ~<Q> between ~<C> and **f. In
the ~<f>-plane the coordinates of the corresponding point are
**f. We know that in the ~<C>-plane both ~<C> and **f are analytic.
In the ~<C>-plane we construct a set of rectangular Cartesian
coordinates ~<u>, ~<v> with the origin at ~<Q> and
such that both ~<C> and **f have finite slope at ~<Q>. Near
~<Q>, both curves can be represented by analytic functions of
~<u>.
In a neighborhood of ~<Q> the difference between these
functions is also a single-valued, analytic function of ~<u>. Furthermore,
one can find a neighborhood of ~<Q> in which the difference
function is monotone, for since it is analytic it can have only
a finite number of extrema in any interval. Now, to find **f, one needs
the intersection of ~<C> and **f near ~<Q>. But **f is just
the curve **f translated without rotation through a small arc, for
**f is always obtained by rotating ~<C> through exactly 90`. The
arc is itself a segment of an analytic curve. Thus if ~<e> is
sufficiently
small, there can be only one intersection of ~<C> and
**f near ~<Q>, for if there were more than one intersection for every
~<e> then the difference between ~<C> and **f near ~<Q>
would not be a monotone function. Therefore, **f is single-valued
near ~<Q>. It is also seen that **f, since the change from **f
to **f is accomplished by a continuous translation. Thus **f is also
continuous at **f, and in a neighborhood of **f which does not contain
a tangent point. We turn now to the set of tangent points on
the graph. This set must consist of isolated points and closed intervals.
The fact that there can not be any limit points of the set except
in closed intervals follows from the argument used in Lemma 1, namely,
that near any tangent point in the ~<C>-plane the curves ~<C>
and **f are analytic, and therefore the difference between them
must be a monotone function in some neighborhood on either side of the
tangent point. This prevents the occurrence of an infinite sequence
of isolated tangent points.

#LEMMA 2.#

<In some neighborhood of

an
isolated tangent point in the ~f-plane, say **f, the function **f is
either double-valued or has no values defined, except at the tangent
point itself, where it is single-valued>. _PROOF._ A tangent point
~<Q> in the ~<C>-plane occurs when ~<C> and **f are
tangent to one another. A continuous change in ~<t> through an amount
~<e> results in a translation along an analytic arc of the curve
**f. There are three possibilities: (a) **f remains tangent to
~<C> as it is translated; (b) **f moves away from ~<C> and
does not intersect it at all for **f; (c) **f cuts across ~<C>
and there are two ordinary intersections for every ~<t> in **f. The
first possibility results in a closed interval of tangent points
in the ~<f>-plane, the end points of which fall into category (b)
or (c). In the second category the function **f has no values defined
in a neighborhood **f. In the third category the function is double-valued
in this interval. The same remarks apply to an interval on the
other side of **f. Again, the analyticity of the two curves guarantee
that such intervals exist. In the neighborhood of an end point of an
interval of tangent points in the ~<f>-plane the function is two-valued
or no-valued on one side, and is a single-valued function consisting
entirely of tangent points on the other side. With the
above results we can make the following remarks about the graph of ~<f>.
First, for any value of ~<t> for which all values of ~<f(t)>
are ordinary points the number of values of ~<f(t)> must be
odd. For it is clear that the total number of ordinary intersections
of ~<C> and **f must be even (otherwise, starting in the interior
of ~<C>, **f could not finally return to the interior), and the
center of rotation at ~<t> is the argument of the function, not a
value. Therefore, for any value of ~<t> the number of values of
~<f(t)> is equal to the (finite) number of tangent points corresponding
to the argument ~<t> plus an odd number.

#DEFINITION.#

The
number of ordinary values of the function ~<f(t)> at ~<t>
will be called its multiplicity at ~<t>.

#LEMMA 3.#

<The graph
of ~f has at least one component whose support is the entire interval
~[0,<T>]. _PROOF_ We suppose not. Then every component
of the graph of ~<f> must be defined over a bounded sub-interval.
Suppose **f is defined in the sub-interval **f. Now **f and **f
must both be tangent points on the ~<n>th component in the ~<f>-plane;
otherwise by Lemma 1 the component would extend beyond
these points. Further, we see by Lemma 2 that the multiplicity of
~<f> can only change at a tangent point, and at such a point can
only change by an even integer. Thus the multiplicity of **f for a given
~<t> must be an even number. This is true of all components
which have such a bounded support. But this is a contradiction, for we
know that the multiplicity of ~<f(t)> is odd for every ~<t>.

We have shown that the graph of ~<f> contains at least one

component whose inverse is the entire interval ~[0,<T>], and
whose multiplicity is odd. There must be an odd number of such components,
which will be called complete components. The remaining (incomplete)
components all have an even number of ordinary points at any argument,
and are defined only on a proper
sub-interval of ~[0,<T>].

We must now show that on some component of the graph there exist
two points for which the corresponding diagonal points in the ~<C>-plane
are on opposite sides of ~<C>. We again consider a
fixed point ~<P> at **f and a variable point ~<Q> at **f on
~<C>. We erect a square with ~<PQ> as a side and with free
corners **f and **f adjacent to ~<P> and ~<Q> respectively.
As ~<s> varies from zero to ~<T>, the values of ~<s> for
which **f and **f <cross> ~<C> will be denoted by **f and **f
respectively. We have **f, plus tangent points. These ~<s>-values
are just the ordinary values of **f.

#LEMMA 4.#

<The values **f

are the ordinary values at **f of a multi-valued function ~<g(t)>
which has components corresponding to those of ~<f(t)>. _PROOF._
We first define a function ~<b(t)> as follows: given the
set of squares such that each has three corners on ~<C> and vertex
at ~<t>, ~<b(t)> is the corresponding set of positive parametric
differences between ~<t> and the <backward> corner points.
The functions ~<f> and ~<b> have exactly the same multiplicity
at every argument ~<t>. Now with ~<P> fixed at **f, **f-values
occur when the corner **f crosses ~<C>, and are among the values
of ~<s> such that **f. The roots of this equation are just the
ordinates of the intersections of the graph of ~<b> with a straight
line of unit slope through **f in the ~<b>-plane (the plane of
the graph of ~<b>). We define these values as **f, and define ~<g(t)>
in the same way for each ~<t>. Thus we obtain ~<g(t)>
by introducing an oblique ~<g(t)>-axis in the ~<b>-plane.

#INTRODUCTION.#

In @1 we investigate a new series of line involutions

in a projective space of three dimensions over the field of complex
numbers. These are defined by a simple involutorial transformation
of the points in which a general line meets a nonsingular quadric surface
bearing a curve of symbol **f. Then in @2 we show that any line
involution with the properties that (a) It has no complex of invariant
lines, and (b) Its singular lines form a complex consisting exclusively
of the lines which meet a twisted curve, is necessarily of the
type discussed in @1. No generalization of these results to spaces
of more than three dimensions has so far been found possible.

#1.#

Let ~<Q> be a nonsingular quadric surface bearing reguli **f

and **f, and let ~\g be a **f curve of order ~<k> on ~<Q>.
A
general line ~<l> meets ~<Q> in two points, **f and **f, through
each of which passes a unique generator of the regulus, **f, whose
lines are simple secants of ~\g. On these generators let **f and
**f be, respectively, the harmonic conjugates of **f and **f with respect
to the two points in which the corresponding generator meets ~\g.
The line **f is the image of ~<l>. Clearly, the transformation
is involutorial. We observe first that no line, ~<l>,
can meet its image except at one of its intersections with ~<Q>.
For if it did, the plane of ~<l> and ~<l'> would contain
two generators of **f, which is impossible. Moreover, from the definitive
transformation of intercepts on the generators of **f, it is clear
that the only points of ~<Q> at which a line can meets its image
are the points of ~\g. Hence the totality of singular lines is
the ~<k>th order complex of lines which meet ~\g. The
invariant lines are the lines of the congruence of secants of ~\g,
since each of these meets ~<Q> in two points which are invariant.
The order of this congruence is **f, since **f secants of a curve of
symbol ~(<a,b>) on a quadric surface pass through an arbitrary point.
The class of the congruence is **f, since an arbitrary plane meets
~\g in ~<k> points. Since the complex of singular
lines is of order ~<k> and since there is no complex of invariant
lines, it follows from the formula **f that the order of the involution
is **f. There are various sets of exceptional lines, or lines
whose images are not unique. The most obvious of these is the quadratic
complex of tangents to ~<Q>, each line of which is transformed
into the entire pencil of lines tangent to ~<Q> at the image
of the point of tangency of the given line. Thus pencils of
tangents to ~<Q> are transformed into pencils of tangents. It is
interesting that a 1:1 correspondence can be established between the
lines of two such pencils, so that in a sense a unique image can actually
be assigned to each tangent. For the lines of any plane, ~|p,
meeting ~<Q> in a conic ~<C>, are transformed into the congruence
of secants of the curve ~<C'> into which ~<C> is
transformed in the point involution on ~<Q>. In particular, tangents
to ~<C> are transformed into tangents to ~<C'>. Moreover,
if **f and **f are two planes intersecting in a line ~<l>, tangent
to ~<Q> at a point ~<P>, the two free intersections of
the image curves **f and **f must coincide at ~<P'>, the image
of ~<P>, and at this point **f and **f must have a common tangent
~<l'>. Hence, thought of as a line in a particular plane ~|p,
any tangent to ~<Q> has a unique image and moreover this image
is the same for all planes through ~<l>. Each generator,
~|l, of **f is also exceptional, for each is transformed into the
entire congruence of secants of the curve into which that generator
is transformed by the point involution on ~<Q>. This curve is of
symbol **f since it meets ~|l, and hence every line of **f in the
**f invariant points on ~|l and since it obviously meets every line
of **f in a single point. The congruence of its secants is therefore
of order **f and class **f. A final class of exceptional lines
is identifiable from the following considerations: Since no two
generators of **f can intersect, it follows that their image curves
can have no free intersections. In other words, these curves have only
fixed intersections common to them all. Now the only way in which all
curves of the image family of **f can pass through a fixed point is
to have a generator of **f which is not a secant but a tangent of ~\g,
for then any point on such a generator will be transformed into
the point of tangency. Since two curves of symbol **f on ~<Q> intersect
in **f points, it follows that there are **f lines of **f which
are tangent to ~\g. Clearly, any line, ~<l>, of any bundle
having one of these points of tangency, ~<T>, as vertex will be transformed
into the entire pencil having the image of the second intersection
of ~<l> and ~<Q> as vertex and lying in the plane determined
by the image point and the generator of **f which is tangent to
~\g at ~<T>. A line through two of these points, **f and **f,
will be transformed into the entire bilinear congruence having the
tangents to ~\g at **f and **f as directrices. A conic, ~<C>,
being a (1, 1) curve on ~<Q>, meets the image of any line
of **f, which we have already found to be a **f curve on ~<Q>,
in **f points. Hence its image, ~<C'>, meets any line of **f
in **f points. Moreover, ~<C'> obviously meets any line **f in
a single point. Hence ~<C'> is a **f curve on ~<Q>. Therefore,
the congruence of its secants, that is the image of a general
plane field of lines, is of order **f and class **f. Finally, the image
of a general bundle of lines is a congruence whose order is the order
of the congruence of invariant lines, namely **f and whose class is
the order of the image congruence of a general plane field of lines,
namely **f.

#2.#

The preceding observations make it clear that there

exist line involutions of all orders greater than 1 with no complex
of invariant lines and with a complex of singular lines consisting exclusively
of the lines which meet a twisted curve ~\g. We now shall
show that any involution with these characteristics is necessarily
of the type we have just described. To do this we must first
show that every line which meets ~\g in a point ~<P> meets its
image at ~<P>. To see this, consider a general pencil of lines
containing a general secant of ~\G. By (1), the image of this pencil
is a ruled surface of order **f which is met by the plane of the
pencil in a curve, ~<C>, of order **f. On ~<C> there is a
**f correspondence in which the **f points cut from ~<C> by a general
line, ~<l>, of the pencil correspond to the point of intersection
of the image of ~<l> and the plane of the pencil. Since ~<C>
is rational, this correspondence has ~<k> coincidences, each
of which implies a line of the pencil which meets its image. However,
since the pencil contains a secant of ~\g it actually contains only
**f singular lines. To avoid this contradiction it is necessary that
~<C> be composite, with the secant of ~\g and a curve of
order **f as components. Thus it follows that the secants of ~\g
are all invariant. But if this is the case, then an arbitrary pencil
of lines having a point, ~<P>, of ~\g as vertex is transformed
into a ruled surface of order **f having **f generators concurrent at
~<P>. Since a ruled surface of order ~<n> with ~<n> concurrent
generators
is necessarily a cone, it follows finally that every line through
a point, ~<P>, of ~\g meets its image at ~<P>, as asserted.

Now consider the transformation of the lines of a bundle

with vertex, ~<P>, on ~\g which is effected by the involution
as a whole. From the preceding remarks, it is clear that such a bundle
is transformed into itself in an involutorial fashion. Moreover,
in this involution there is a cone of invariant lines of order **f, namely
the cone of secants of ~\g which pass through ~<P>. Hence
it follows that the involution within the bundle must be a perspective
de Jonquieres involution of order **f and the invariant locus must
have a multiple line of multiplicity either **f or **f. The first possibility
requires that there be a line through ~<P> which meets
~\g in **f points; the second requires that there be a line through
~<P> which meets ~\g in **f points. In each case, lines
of the bundles are transformed by involutions within the pencils they
determine with the multiple secant. In the first case the fixed elements
within each pencil are the multiple secant and the line joining the
vertex, ~<P>, to the intersection of ~\g and the plane of
the pencil which does not lie on the multiple secant. In the second,
the fixed elements are the lines which join the vertex, ~<P>, to
the two intersections of ~\g and the plane of the pencil which do
not lie on the multiple secant. The multiple secants, of course, are
exceptional and in each case are transformed into cones of order **f.

Observations similar to these can be made at each point of ~\g.

Hence ~\g must have either a regulus of **f-fold secants or
a regulus of **f-fold secants. Moreover, if **f, no two of the multiple
secants can intersect. For if such were the case, either the plane
of the two lines would meet ~\g in more than ~<k> points or,
alternatively, the order of the image regulus of the pencil determined
by the two lines would be too high. But if no two lines of the regulus
of multiple secants of ~\g can intersect, then the regulus must
be quadratic, or in other words, ~\g must be either a **f or a **f
curve on a nonsingular quadric surface. We now observe that
the case in which ~\g is a **f curve on a quadric is impossible if
the complex of singular lines consists exclusively of the lines which
meet ~\g. For any pencil in a plane containing a **f-fold secant
of ~\g has an image regulus which meets the plane of the pencil
in **f lines, namely the images of the lines of the pencil which pass
through the intersection of ~\g and the multiple secant, plus an additional
component to account for the intersections of the images of
the general lines of the pencil. However, if there is no additional complex
of singular lines, the order of the image regulus of a pencil is
precisely **f. This contradicts the preceding observations, and so,
under the assumption of this paper we must reject the possibility that
~\g is a **f curve on a quadric surface. Continuing with
the case in which ~\g is a **f curve on a quadric ~<Q>, we first
observe that the second regulus of ~<Q> consists precisely of
the lines which join the two free intersections of ~\g and the planes
through any one of the multiple secants. For each of these lines
meets ~<Q> in three points, namely two points on ~\g and one
point on one of the multiple secants. Now consider an arbitrary
line, ~<l>, meeting ~<Q> in two points, **f and **f. If
~|a is the multiple secant of ~\g which passes through **f and
~|b is the simple secant of ~\g which passes through **f, and
if **f are the points in which ~|a meets ~\g, and if **f is the
image of **f on the generator ~|b, it follows that the image of
the line **f is **f.

These societies can expect to face difficult times. As the historic

processes of modernization gradually gain momentum, their cohesion
will be threatened by divisive forces, the gaps between rulers and
subjects, town and country, will widen; new aspirants for power will
emerge whose ambitions far exceed their competence; old rulers may
lose their nerve and their sense of direction. National leaders will
have to display the highest skills of statesmanship to guide their people
through times of uncertainty and confusion which destroy men's
sense of identity. Feelings of a community of interest will have to
be recreated- in some of the new nations, indeed, they must be built
for the first time- on a new basis which looks toward the future and
does not rely only on shared memories of the past. Nevertheless, with
foresight and careful planning, some of the more disruptive and dangerous
consequences of social change which have troubled other countries
passing through this stage can be escaped. The United States can
help by communicating a genuine concern with the problems these countries
face and a readiness to provide technical and other appropriate forms
of assistance where possible. Our central goal should be
to provide the greatest positive incentive for these societies to tackle
boldly the tasks which they face. At the same time, we should recognize
that the obstacles to change and the lack of cohesion and stability
which characterize these countries may make them particularly prone
to diversions and external adventures of all sorts. It may seem to some
of them that success can be purchased much less dearly by fishing
in the
murky waters of international politics than by facing up to the intractable
tasks at home. We should do what we can to discourage this conclusion,
both by offering assistance for their domestic needs and by reacting
firmly to irresponsible actions on the world scene. When necessary,
we should make it clear that countries which choose to derive marginal
advantages from the cold war or to exploit their potential for
disrupting the security of the world will not only lose our sympathy but
also risk their own prospects for orderly development. As a nation,
we feel an obligation to assist other countries in their development;
but this obligation pertains only to countries which are honestly
seeking to become responsible members of a stable and forward-moving world
community.

#TRANSITIONAL SOCIETIES#

When we look at countries like

Iran, Iraq, Pakistan, and Burma, where substantial progress has been
made
in creating a minimum supply of modern men and of social overhead capital,
and where institutions of centralized government exist, we find
a second category of countries with a different set of problems and hence
different priorities for policy. The men in power are committed
in principle to modernization, but economic and social changes are proceeding
only erratically. Isolated enterprises have been launched, but
they are not yet related to each other in a meaningful pattern. The
society is likely to be characterized by having a fairly modernized urban
sector and a relatively untouched rural sector, with very poor communications
between the two. Progress is impeded by psychological inhibitions
to effective action among those in power and by a failure on
their part to understand how local resources, human and material, can
be mobilized to achieve the national goals of modernization already symbolically
accepted. Most countries in this second category share
the difficulty of having many of the structures of a modern political
and social system without the modern standards of performance required
to make them effective. In these rapidly changing societies there
is also too little appreciation of the need for effort to achieve goals.
The colonial period has generally left people believing that government
can, if it wishes, provide all manner of services for them-
and that with independence free men do not have to work to realize the
benefits of modern life. For example, in accordance with the fashion
of the times, most transitional societies have announced economic development
plans of varying numbers of years; such is the mystique of
planning that people expect that fulfillment of the plan will follow
automatically upon its announcement. The civil services in such societies
are generally inadequate to deal competently with the problems facing
them; and their members often equate a government career with security
and status rather than with sacrifice, self-discipline, and competence.

American policy should press constantly the view that

until these governments demand efficiency and effectiveness of their
bureaucracies there is not the slightest hope that they will either modernize
of democratize their societies. We should spread the view that
planning and national development are serious matters which call for
effort as well as enthusiasm. Above all, we should seek to encourage
the leaders of these societies to accept the unpleasant fact that they
are responsible for their fates. Only within the framework of a mature
relationship characterized by honest appraisals of performance can
we provide telling assistance. With respect to those countries whose
leaders prefer to live with their illusions, we can afford to wait,
for in time their comparative lack of progress will become clear for all
to see. Our technical assistance to these countries should
place special emphasis on inducing the central governments to assume the
role of advisor and guide which at an earlier stage foreign experts
assumed in dealing with the central governments. We should encourage
the governments to develop their own technical assistance to communities,
state and provincial governments, rural communities, and other smaller
groups, making certain that no important segment of the economy is
neglected. Simultaneously we should be underlining the interrelationships
of technical progress in various fields, showing how agricultural
training can be introduced into education, how health affects labor
productivity, how small business can benefit the rural farm community,
and, above all, how progress in each field relates to national progress.
Efforts such as the Community Development Program in the Philippines
have demonstrated that transitional societies can work toward
balanced national development. To achieve this goal of balanced development,
communications between the central government and the local communities
must be such that the needs and aspirations of the people themselves
are effectively taken into account. If modernization programs
are imposed from above, without the understanding and cooperation of
the people, they will encounter grave difficulties. Land reform
is likely to be a pressing issue in many of these countries. It should
be American policy not only to encourage effective land reform
programs but also to underline the relation of such reforms to the economic
growth and modernization of the society. As an isolated policy,
land reform is likely to be politically disruptive; as part of a larger
development effort, however, it may gain wide acceptance. It should
also be recognized that the problem of rural tenancy cannot be solved
by administrative decrees alone. Land reform programs need to be
supplemented with programs for promoting rural credits and technical assistance
in agriculture. Lastly, governmental and private planners
will at this stage begin to see large capital requirements looming
ahead. By holding out prospects for external capital assistance, the
United States can provide strong incentives to prepare for the concerted
economic drive necessary to achieve self-sustaining growth.

#ACTIVELY
MODERNIZING SOCIETIES#

At a third stage in the modernization

process are such countries as India, Brazil, the Philippines, and
Taiwan, which are ready and committed to move into the stage of self-sustaining
growth. They must continue to satisfy basic capital needs;
and there persists the dual problem of maintaining operational unity
around a national program of modernization while simultaneously decentralizing
participation in the program to wider and wider groups.
But these countries have made big strides toward developing the necessary
human and social overhead capital; they have established reasonably
stable and effective governmental institutions at national and local
levels; and they have begun to develop a capacity to deal realistically
and simultaneously with all the major sectors of their economies.

On the economic front, the first priority of these countries

is to mobilize a vastly increased volume of resources. Several related
tasks must be carried out if self-sustaining growth is to be achieved.
These countries must formulate a comprehensive, long-term program
covering the objectives of both the private and the public sectors
of the economy. They must in their planning be able to count on at least
tentative commitments of foreign capital assistance over periods
of several years. Capital imports drawn from a number of sources must
be employed and combined skillfully enough to permit domestic investment
programming to go forward. Capital flows must be coordinated with
national needs and planning. Finally, a balance must be effected among
project finance, utilization of agricultural surpluses, and general
balance of payments support. Thus, although the agenda of external
assistance in the economic sphere are cumulative, and many of the
policies suggested for nations in the earlier stages remain relevant,
the basic purpose of American economic policy during the later stages
of development should be to assure that movement into a stage of self-sustaining
growth is not prevented by lack of foreign exchange.

There remain many political and administrative problems to be solved.

For one thing, although considerable numbers of men have been trained,
bureaucracies are still deficient in many respects; even the
famed Indian Civil Service is not fully adequate to the tremendous
range of tasks it has undertaken. Technical assistance in training middle-
and upper-level management personnel is still needed in many cases.
There are also more basic problems. This is the stage at which democratic
developments must take place if the society is to become an
open community of creative people. Nevertheless, impulses still exist
among the ruling elite to rationalize and thus to perpetuate the need
for centralized and authoritarian practices. Another great danger is
that the emerging middle class will feel itself increasingly alienated
from the political leaders who still justify their dominance by reference
to the struggle for independence or the early phase of nationalism.
The capacity of intellectuals and members of the new professional
classes to contribute creatively to national development is likely to
be destroyed by a constraining sense of inferiority toward both their
own political class and their colleagues and professional counterparts
in the West. Particularly when based upon a single dominant party,
governments may respond to such a situation by claiming a monopoly of
understanding about the national interest. Convinced of the wisdom of
their own actions, and reassured by the promises of their economic development
programs, governments may fail to push outward to win more
and more people to the national effort, becoming instead more rigid and
inflexible in their policies. American policy toward such societies
should stress our sympathy for the emerging social and professional
classes. It should attempt to communicate both an appreciation
of professional standards and an understanding of the tremendous powers
and potentialities of genuinely open and pluralistic societies. We
have every obligation to take seriously their claims to being democratic
and free countries; we also have, in consequence, the duty to appraise
realistically and honestly their performance and to communicate
our judgments to their leaders in frank but friendly ways.
#THE TIME
FACTOR#

We have emphasized that the modernizing process in each society

will take a considerable period of time. With the exception of
treaty-making, foreign relations were historically concerned for the
most part with conditions of short or at least measurable duration. Foreign
policy now takes on a different perspective and must become skilled
not merely at response but also at projection. American and free-world
policies can marginally affect the pace of transition; but basically
that pace depends on changes in the supply of resources and in
the human attitudes, political institutions, and social structure which
each society must generate. It follows that any effective policy toward
the underdeveloped countries must have a realistically long working
horizon. It must be marked by a patience and persistence which have
not always been its trademark. This condition affects not only
the conception but also the legislative and financial support of foreign
policy, especially in the context of economic aid.
#/2,: SOME OF THE MAJOR FUNCTIONS OF RELIGION#

The place of
religion in the simple, preliterate societies is quite definite; as
a complex it fits into the whole social organization and functions dominantly
in every part of it. In societies like ours, however, its place
is less clear and more complex. With the diversity of religious viewpoints,
there are differences of opinion as to the essential features
of religion; and there are different opinions as to the essential
functions of religion. Nevertheless, for most of the population of heterogeneous
advanced societies, though less for the less religious portion,
religion does perform certain modal individual and social functions.

Although the inner functions of religion are not of direct

significance in social organization, they have important indirect consequences.
If the inner functions of religion are performed, the individual
is a composed, ordered, motivated, and emotionally secure associate;
he is not greatly frustrated, and he is not anomic; he is
better fitted to perform his social life among his fellows. There are
several closely related inner functions. In the last analysis,
religion is the means of inducing, formulating, expressing, enhancing,
implementing, and perpetuating man's deepest experience- the religious.
Man is first religious; the instrumentalities follow. Religion
seeks to satisfy human needs of great pertinence. The significant
things in it, at the higher religious levels, are the inner emotional,
mental, and spiritual occurrences that fill the pressing human needs
of self-preservation, self-pacification, and self-completion. The chief
experience is the sensing of communion, and in the higher religions,
of a harmonious relationship with the supernatural power. Related to
this is the fact that most of the higher religions define for the individual
his place in the universe and give him a feeling that he is relatively
secure in an ordered, dependable universe. Man has the experience
of being helpfully allied with what he cannot fully understand;
he is a coordinate part of all of the mysterious energy and being and
movement. The universe is a safe and permanent home. A number
of religions also satisfy for many the need of being linked with the
ultimate and eternal. Death is not permanent defeat and disappearance;
man has a second chance. He is not lost in the abyss of endless
time; he has endless being. Religion at its best also offers the
experience of spiritual fulfillment by inviting man into the highest realm
of the spirit. Religion can summate, epitomize, relate, and conserve
all the highest ideals and values- ethical, aesthetic, and religious-
of man formed in his culture. There is also the possibility,
among higher religions, of experiencing consistent meaning in life
and enjoying guidance and expansiveness. The kind of religious experience
that most moderns seek not only provides, clarifies, and relates
human yearnings, values, ideals, and purposes; it also provides facilities
and incitements for the development of personality, sociality,
and creativeness. Under the religious impulse, whether theistic or
humanistic, men have joy in living; life leads somewhere. Religion
at its best is out in front, ever beckoning and leading on, and, as Lippman
put it, "mobilizing all man's scattered energies in one triumphant
sense of his own infinite importance". At the same
time
that religion binds the individual helpfully to the supernatural and
gives him cosmic peace and a sense of supreme fulfillment, it also has
great therapeutic value for him. It gives him aid, comfort, even solace,
in meeting mundane life situations where his own unassisted practical
knowledge and skill are felt by him to be inadequate. He is confronted
with the recurrent crises, such as great natural catastrophes and
the great transitions of life- marriage, incurable disease, widowhood,
old age, the certainty of death. He has to cope with frustration
and other emotional disturbance and anomie. His religious beliefs provide
him with plausible explanations for many conditions which cause
him great concern, and his religious faith makes possible fortitude, equanimity,
and consolation, enabling him to endure colossal misfortune,
fear, frustration, uncertainty, suffering, evil, and danger. Religion
usually also includes a principle of compensation, mainly in a promised
perfect future state. The belief in immortality, where held,
functions as a redress for the ills and disappointments of the here
and now. The tensions accompanying a repressive consciousness of wrongdoing
or sinning or some tormenting secret are relieved for the less
self-contained or self-sufficient by confession, repentance, and penance.
The feeling of individual inferiority, defeat, or humilation growing
out of various social situations or individual deficiencies or failures
is compensated for by communion in worship or prayer with a friendly,
but all-victorious Father-God, as well as by sympathetic fellowship
with others who share this faith, and by opportunities in religious
acts for giving vent to emotions and energies. In providing
for these inner individual functions, religion undertakes in behalf
of individual peace of mind and well-being services for which there is
no other institution. In addition to the functions of religion
within man, there have always been the outer social functions for the
community and society. The two have never been separable. Religion
is vitally necessary in both societal maintenance and regulation.

The value-system of a community or society is always correlated with,

and to a degree dependent upon, a more or less shared system of religious
beliefs and convictions. The religion supports, re-enforces,
reaffirms, and maintains the fundamental values. Even in the united
states, with its freedom of religious belief and worship and its vast
denominational differentiation, there is a general consensus regarding
the basic Christian values. This is demonstrated especially when there
is awareness of radically different value orientation elsewhere;
for example Americans rally to Christian values vis-a-vis those
of atheistic communism. In America also all of our major religious bodies
officially sanction a universalistic ethic which is reflective of
our common religion. Even the non-church members- the freewheelers,
marginal religionists and so on- have the values of Christian civilization
internalized in them. Furthermore, religion tends to integrate
the whole range of values from the highest or ultimate values of God
to the intermediary and subordinate values; for example, those regarding
material objects and pragmatic ends. Finally, it gives sanctity,
more than human legitimacy, and even, through super-empirical reference,
transcendent and supernatural importance to some values; for example,
marriage as a sacrament, much law-breaking as sinful, occasionally
the state as a divine instrument. It places certain values at least
beyond questioning and tampering. Closely related to this
function is the fact that the religious system provides a body of ultimate
ends for the society, which are compatible with the supreme eternal
ends. This something leads to a conception of an over-all Social
Plan with a meaning interpretable in terms of ultimate ends; for example,
a plan that fulfills the will of God, which advances the Kingdom
of God, which involves social life as part of the Grand Design.
This explains some group ends and provides a justification of their
primacy. It gives social guidance and direction and makes for programs
of social action. Finally, it gives meaning to much social endeavor,
and logic, consistency, and meaning to life. In general, there is no
society so secularized as to be completely without religiously inspired
transcendental ends. Religion integrates and unifies. Some
of the oldest, most persistent, and most cohesive forms of social groupings
have grown out of religion. These groups have varied widely from
mere families, primitive, totemic groups, and small modern cults and
sects, to the memberships of great denominations, and great, widely
dispersed world religions. Religion fosters group life in various ways.
The common ultimate values, ends and goals fostered by religion are
a most important factor. Without a system of values there can be no
society. Where such a value system prevails, it always unifies all
who possess it; it enables members of the society to operate as a system.
The beliefs of a religion also reflecting the values are expressed
in creeds, dogmas, and doctrines, and form what Durkheim calls a credo.
As he points out, a religious group cannot exist without a collective
credo, and the more extensive the credo, the more unified and strong
is the group. The credo unifies and socializes men by attaching
them completely to an identical body of doctrine; the more extensive
and firm the body of doctrine, the firmer the group. The religious
symbolism, and especially the closely related rites and worship
forms, constitute a powerful bond for the members of the particular faith.
The religion, in fact, is an expression of the unity of the group,
small or large. The common codes, for religious action as such and
in their ethical aspects for everyday moral behavior, bind the devotees
together. These are ways of jointly participating in significantly
symbolized, standardized, and ordered religiously sanctified behavior.
The codes are mechanism for training in, and directing and enforcing,
uniform social interaction, and for continually and publicly reasserting
the solidarity of the group. Durkheim noted long ago that
religion as "**h a unified system of beliefs and practices relative
to sacred things **h unite[s] into one single moral community **h
all
those who adhere to them". His view is that every religion pertains
to
a community, and, conversely, every community is in one aspect a religious
unit. This is brought out in the common religious ethos that prevails
even in the denominationally diverse audiences at many secular
semi-public and public occasions in the United States; and it is
evidenced in the prayers offered, in the frequent religious allusions,
and in the confirmation of points on religious grounds. The
unifying effect of religion is also brought out in the fact that historically
peoples have clung together as more or less cohesive cultural
units, with religion as the dominant bond, even though spatially dispersed
and not politically organized. The Jews for 2500 years have been
a prime example, though the adherents of any world or interpeople religion
are cases in point. it might be pointed out that the integrating
function of religion, for good or ill, has often supported or been
identified with other groupings- political, nationality, language, class,
racial, sociability, even economic. Religion usually exercises
a stabilizing-conserving function. As such it acts as an anchor
for the people. There is a marked tendency for religions, once firmly
established, to resist change, not only in their own doctrines and policies
and practices, but also in secular affairs having religious relevance.
It has thus been a significant factor in the conservation of
social values, though also in some measure, an obstacle to the creation
or diffusion of new ones. It tends to support the longstanding precious
sentiments, the traditional ways of thinking, and the customary ways
of living. As Yinger has pointed out, the "**h reliance on symbols,
on tradition, on sacred writings, on the cultivation of emotional
feelings of identity and harmony with sacred values, turns one to the
past far more than to the future". Historically, religion has also
functioned as a tremendous engine of vindication, enforcement, sanction,
and perpetuation of various other institutions. At the same
time that religion exercises a conserving influence, it also energizes
and motivates both individuals and groups. Much of the important
individual and social action has been owing to religious incentives. The
great ultimate ends of religion have served as magnificent beacon
lights that lured people toward them with an almost irresistible force,
mobilizing energies and inducing sacrifices; for example, the Crusades,
mission efforts, just wars. Much effort has been expended in the
sincere effort to apply the teaching and admonitions of religion. The
insuperable reward systems that most religions embody have great motivating
effects. Religion provides the most attractive rewards, either
in this world or the next, for those who not merely abide by its norms,
but who engage in good works. Religion usually acts as a
powerful
aid in social control, enforcing what men should or should not
do. Among primitive peoples the sanctions and dictates of religion were
more binding than any of the other controls exercised by the group;
and in modern societies such influence is still great. Religion has
its own supernatural prescriptions that are at the same time codes
of behavior for the here and now.
Overwhelmed with the care of five young children and concerned about
persistent economic difficulties due to her husband's marginal income,
her defense of denial was excessively strong. Thus the lack of effective
recognition of the responsibilities involved in caring for two
babies showed signs of becoming a disabling problem. The result, dramatically
visible in a matter of days in the family's disrupted daily
functioning, was a phobic-like fear that some terrible harm would befall
the second twin, whose birth had not been anticipated. Soon Mrs&
B&'s fears threatened to burst into a full-blown panic concerning
the welfare of the entire family. Inability to care for the other
children, difficulty in feeding the babies, who seemed colicky, bone-weary
fatigue, repeated crying episodes, and short tempers reflected
the family's helplessness in coping with the stressful situation. Clearly,
this was a family in crisis. Mrs& B& compared her
feelings of weakness to her feelings of weakness and helplessness at
the time of her mother's death when she was eight, as well as her subsequent
anger at her father for remarrying. Her previous traumatic experiences
flashed through her mind as if they had happened yesterday.
On the anniversary of her father's death she poured out with agonized
tears her feelings of guilt about not having attended his funeral.
In the family's own words (during the third of twelve visits), they
had "reached the crisis peak- either the situation will give or
we
will break"! Direct confrontation and acceptance of Mrs&
B&'s anger against the second baby soon dissipated her fears
of annihilation. Abreaction of her anxiety and guilt concerning the
death of her parents, when linked up with her current feelings of anger
and her fears of loss, abandonment, and annihilation, produced further
relief of tension. In a joint interview Mr& and Mrs& B& were
helped to understand the meaning of a younger son's wandering away
from home in terms of his feelings of displacement in reaction to the
arrival of the twins. The father, accurately perceiving the child's
needs, not only respected them as worthy of his attention, but immediately
satisfied them by taking him on his lap along with the twins,
saying, "I have a big lap; there is room for you, too, Johnnie".
Simultaneously, a variety of environmental supports- a calm but
not
too motherly homemaker, referral for temporary economic aid, intelligent
use of nursing care, accompaniment to the well-baby clinic for medical
advice on the twins' feeding problem- combined to prevent further
development of predictable pathological mechanisms. Follow-up visits
of the nurse and social worker indicated continued success in the
care of the new babies as well as a marked improvement in the family's
day-to-day mental health and social functioning. As seen
in the B& family, there must be an attempt to help the client develop
conscious awareness of the problem, especially in the absence of a
formal request for assistance. The lack of awareness usually springs
from deep but disguised anxiety, often assuming the superficial guise
of "not knowing" or "not caring". The unhealthy use of denial
in the initial reaction to a stress must be handled through the medium
of a positive controlled transference. In general, the approach is
more active than passive, more out-reaching than reflective. While some
regression is inevitable, it is discouraged rather than encouraged
so that the transference does not follow the stages of planned regression
associated with certain casework adaptations of the psychoanalytic
model for insight therapy. To establish an emotionally meaningful
relationship the worker must demonstrate actual or potential helpfulness
immediately, preferably within the first interview, by meeting
the client's specific needs. These needs usually concern the reduction
of guilt and some relief of tension. The initial interview must
be therapeutic rather than purely exploratory in an information-seeking
sense. In this relationship-building stage the worker must communicate
confidence in the client's ability to deal with the problem. In
so doing he implicitly offers the positive contagion of hope as a kind
of maturational dynamic to counteract feelings of helplessness and hopelessness
generally associated with the first stages of stress impact.
Thus, the client receives enough ego support to engage in constructive
efforts on his own behalf. Here there is a specific preventive component
which applies in a more generalized sense to any casework situation.
We are preventing or averting pathogenic phenomena such as undue
regression, unhealthy suppression and repression, excessive use of
denial, and crippling guilt turned against the self. While some suppression
and some denial are not only necessary but healthy, the worker's
clinical knowledge must determine how these defenses are being used,
what healthy shifts in defensive adaptation are indicated, and when
efforts at bringing about change can be most effectively timed.

In steering the family toward ego-adaptive and away from maladaptive

responses, the worker uses time-honored focused casework techniques
of specific emotional support, clarification, and anticipatory guidance.
Over a relatively short period of time, usually about four to twelve
weeks, the worker must be able to shift the focus, back and forth,
between immediate external stressful exigencies ("precipitating stress")
and the key, emotionally relevant issues ("underlying problem")
which are, often in a dramatic preconscious breakthrough, reactivated
by the crisis situation, and hence once again amenable to resolution.
Though there is obviously nothing new about these techniques, they
do challenge the worker's skill to articulate them precisely on the
spot and on the basis of quick and accurate diagnostic assessments.
Then, too, the utmost clinical flexibility is necessary in judiciously
combining carefully timed family-oriented home visits, single and group
office interviews, and appropriate telephone follow-up calls, if
the worker is to be genuinely accessible and if the predicted unhealthy
outcome is to be actually averted in accordance with the principles
of preventive intervention. In addition, in many cases, a variety of
concrete social resources- homemaker, day care, medical and financial
aid- must be reasonably available for the reality support needed to
bolster the family in its individual and collective coping and integrative
efforts. At certain critical stages, and only for sound diagnostic
reasons, it may be important to accompany family members in their use
of these resources if their problem-solving behavior is to be constructive
rather than defeating. While expensive in time and involving
a great deal of adaptation on the part of the worker (in terms of his
willingness to leave the sanctity of his office and enter actively into
the client's life), techniques of accompaniment were found to be of
tremendous value when in the service of specific preventive objectives.
Finally, whatever the techniques used, a twin goal is common to all
preventive casework service: to cushion or reduce the force of the
stress impact while at the same time to encourage and support family
members to mobilize and use their ego capacities. Having outlined
an approach to the theory and practice of preventive casework, we
now address ourselves to our final question: What place should brief,
crisis-oriented preventive casework occupy in our total spectrum of
services? We should first recognize our tendency to develop a hierarchy
of values, locating brief treatment at the bottom and long-term
intensive service at the top, instead of seeing the services as part
of a continuum, each important in its own right. This problem is perhaps
as old as social casework itself. Almost three decades ago Bertha
Reynolds undertook a study of short-contact interviewing because of
her conviction that short-term casework had an important but neglected
place in our network of social services. Her conclusion has been borne
out in the experience of many practitioners: "**h short-contact
interviewing is neither a truncated nor a telescoped experience but
is of the same essential quality as the so-called intensive case work".
Thus,
casework involving a limited number of interviews is still to be
regarded in terms of the quality of service rendered rather than of the
quantity of time expended. That we are experiencing an upsurge
of interest in the many formulations and preventive adaptations of
brief treatment in social casework is evident from even a small sampling
of current literature. Especially noteworthy is Levinger's finding
that the length of treatment per se is not a reliable indicator of
successful outcome. According to a number of studies, the important
predictors are the nature and management of the client's anxiety as
well as the accessibility of the helping person. For example, the level
of improvement noted in a recent experiment with a short course of
immediate treatment for parent-child relationship problems compared favorably
with the results reported by typical child guidance clinics where
the hours spent in purely diagnostic study may equal or exceed the
number of hours devoted to actual treatment interviews in the experimental
project. Of startling significance, too, is the assertion that
it was possible to carry out this program with only a 6 percent attrition
rate as compared with a rate of 59 percent reported for a comparable
group of families who were receiving help in traditionally operated
child guidance services. These reports refer to a level of secondary
prevention in a child guidance clinic approached by the customary route
of voluntary referral by the family or by other professional people.
Similarities to the approach which I have described are evident in
the prompt establishment of a helping relationship, quick appraisal of
key issues, and the immediate mobilization of treatment plans as the
essential dynamics in helping to further the ego's coping efforts in
dealing with the interplay of inner and outer stresses. While there
are many different possibilities for the timing of casework intervention,
the experiments recently reported from a variety of traditional settings
all point up the importance of an <immediate> response to the client's
initial need for help. In some programs, treatment is concentrated
over a short period of time, while in others, after the initial
contact is established, flexible spacing of interviews has been experimentally
used with apparent success. Willingness to take the risk of
early and direct interpretation (with the proviso that if the interpretation
is too threatening, the worker can withdraw) is another prominent
feature in these efforts. My aim in mentioning this factor obviously
is not to give license to "wild therapy" but rather to encourage
us to use the time-honored clinical casework skills we already possess,
and to use them with greater confidence, precision, and professional
pride. Though there is obviously great need for continued
experimentation with various types of short-term intervention to further
efforts in developing an operational definition of prevention at
the secondary- or perhaps, in some instances, primary- level, the
place of short-term intervention has already been documented by a number
of investigators in a wide variety of settings. Woodward, for example,
has emphasized the "need for a broad spectrum of services, including
very brief services in connection with critical situations". Ideally,
brief treatment should be arrived at as a treatment of choice
rather
than as a treatment of chance. Moreover, the shortage of treatment
resources and the chronically persistent shortage of mental health manpower
force us to innovate additional refinements of preventive intervention
techniques to make services more widely available- and on a
more effective basis to more people. Further research in the meaning
of crises as experienced by the consumers of traditional social casework
services- including attempts to develop a typology of family structures,
crisis problems, reaction mechanisms, and differential treatment
approaches- and the establishment of new experimental programs are
imperative social needs which should command the best efforts of caseworkers
in collaboration with community planners. our literature
is already replete with a fantastic number of suggestions for preventive
agency programming ranging from the immediately practical to the
globally utopian. Probably, in the immediate future, we will have to
settle for middle-range efforts that fall short of utopian models. Increased
experimentation with multipurpose agencies, especially those
that combine afresh the traditional functions of family and child welfare
services, holds rich promise for the future. For example, child welfare
experience abounds with cases in which the parental request for
substitute care is precipitated by a crisis event which is meaningfully
linked with a fundamental unresolved problem of family relationships.
_SENTIMENT:_ Tension management and communication of sentiment
are the processes involved in the functioning of the element of sentiment
or feeling. One of the devices for tension management is preferential
mating. The preferential mating of this particular population
has been analyzed in a separate study. The relative geographical isolation
of the Brandywine population makes for a limited choice in mating.
It would seem necessary that members of this population provide support
for one another since it is not provided by the larger society. The
supportive relations can apparently be achieved in geographical and
social isolation. The newlyweds building homes on the same land with
either set of parents, and the almost exclusive use of members of the
population as sponsors for baptisms and weddings illustrate this supportive
relationship. As Loomis remarks, "In the internal pattern
the chief reason for interacting is to communicate liking, friendship,
and love among those who stand in supporting relations to one another
and corresponding negative sentiments to those who stand in antagonistic
relations". _ACHIEVING:_ Maintenance of the <status
quo> might seem to be the appropriate goal or objective of this population
today. Yet, the object of the element of achieving through the
process of goal attaining for this population appears to have been changed
by circumstances brought about by the war. Prior to World War
/2, there was a higher percentage of endogamous marriages than after
World war /2,. _NORMS:_ The norms, as elements, refer
to "all criteria for judging the character or conduct of both individual
and group actions in any social system". The process of evaluation
assigns varying positive and negative priorities or values to elements.
The elements and processes become evident in a study of mate
selection in this population. From the evidence "it may be conjectured
that core-core marriages are the preferred unions for core males and
females; core-marginal marriages still belong in the category of
permissive unions; and core-Negro marriages are proscribed for core
members". _STATUS-ROLES:_ The element of status-roles and associated
processes have not been sufficiently investigated for this population
to permit any type of conjectures about them. _POWER:_
There is some indication from a limited number of interviews with members
of the population that the element of power, primarily the voluntary
influence of non-authoritative power, has been exerted on actors in
the system, particularly in regard to mate selection. This would seem
to vary from family to family, depending somewhat on the core or marginal
"status" of that family. Again, size of the group may have
some influence on the strength of group controls. _RANKING:_ Interviews
with members of the Brandywine population were attempted in
order
to discover the ranking of the various families in the population.
The large majority of the interviewees placed core families in the
upper positions. Loomis considers ranking a product of the evaluation
process. "The standing or rank of an actor in a given social system
is determined by the evaluation placed upon the actor and his acts in
accordance with the norms and standards of the system". Despite the
increasing rate of exogamous marriages, the population has been able
to sustain, at least to some degree, the consciousness of its intermediate
status in society. To some extent the system can be considered
a <Gemeinschaft> in which "social-role occupancies are determined
by birth, by attributes such as sex or caste, which are biologically
or socially immutable". The adherence of many in the population to
the Indian background in their pedigree, and emphasis upon the fact
that their ancestors had never been slaves, becomes of prime interest
in
determining how far these elements promote the self-image of the intermediate
status of the group in society. _SANCTIONS:_ The negative
sanctions applied to core-Negro marriages for core members act as
indicators of expected adherence to group norms. However, because of
Church laws, lately more stringently enforced, which forbid the marriage
of cousins closely related consanguineously, a means of facilitating
the goal of in-group relations may be that of recourse to illegitimate
unions. A cursory survey of available material indicates a high
rate of illegitimate births occurring to parents who have a close consanguineous
relationship.

#SUBSYSTEMS#

The comprehensive or master

processes activate all or some of the elements within the social system
and subsystems. Within the larger social system are the structural
and functional subsystems. The structural subsystem, consisting of
relatively stable inter-relationships among its parts, includes: _1._
Subgroups of various types, interconnected by relational norms.
_2._ Roles of various types, within the larger system and within
the subgroups **h _3._ Regulative norms governing subgroups and
roles. _4._ Cultural values. In the study of marriage
patterns for this group, consanguinity produces the structural system-
a system of affinities- which, in turn, maintains the system of
consanguinity. Subgroups of various types have been found within this
system. Each family line can be considered a substructure. There seems
to be an implied cultural value attached to the fact of core status
within the group. Additionally, the proscription of core-Negro marriages
for core families, discussed above, would seem to act as a regulative
norm governing subgroups and roles. The scope of this study does
not provide for the study of roles of various types within the larger
system or within the subgroups. However, it cannot be presumed, informal
though the structure of the population seems, that there are not
well-defined roles within the system. The present study relates
to the theory of functional systems. It is hypothesized that fertility
is a function of the social system when the population as a whole
is considered and a function of the subsystems when the two-fold division
of core families and marginal families is considered. The four
functional problems of a social system are, to some extent, solved by
the subsystems within this population. By means of geographical isolation
and high fertility rates, inbreeding can be fostered and the pattern
of isolation from the greater society maintained. In order to attain
the goal of group solidarity and to relieve tension, the high fertility
rate provides more group members for mate selection, and the clustering
of members in groups fosters acceptance of group controls. To
maintain their intermediate position in the larger society, it is not
only necessary that members of this population be "visible", but
that their numbers be great enough to be recognized as a separate, distinct
grouping or system in society. As mentioned above, where families
are concentrated in larger numbers, group controls seem strongest and
most effective. Adaptation to the social and non-social environment
through the economy has been met to a degree through a type of occupational
segregation. This provides the necessary contact with the larger
society, while supporting a type of control over members in terms
of social contacts. Integration "has to do with the inter-relation
of parts". The problem of solidarity and morale again involves
the concept of values. The values placed by the Brandywine population,
upon maintaining a certain homogeneity, a certain separate racial
identity, and therefore a certain separate social status, are important
for the morale of the system. Since morale is closely related to
pattern maintenance and integration, the higher the morale and solidarity,
the better the system can solve the problems of the system. In this
respect it would seem that the greater the social distance between
the Brandywine population and the white and Negro populations within
the same general locality, the greater the possibility for higher morale
and solidarity within the Brandywine population. It is conceived
that one of the means to attain this social distance is that of physical
and social isolation. In turn, higher fertility rates for this population
provide a means of increasing the numerical quantity of the
population, allowing for the possibility of greater stability and unity.
The population can thereby replenish itself and actually grow larger.

#MASTER PROCESSES#

Of particular utility in the analysis of the

development, persistence, and change of social systems has been the
use of the master or comprehensive processes. Loomis considers six such
processes in his paradigm. 1. Communication 2. Boundary
maintenance 3. Systemic linkage 4. Socialization

5. Social control 6. Institutionalization Though undoubtedly

all six processes are operative within the whole social system
and its subsystems, two processes that are of crucial importance to
this study will be singled out for particular emphasis: _COMMUNICATION:_
In discussing the process of communication, Loomis defines
it as "the process by which information, decisions, and directives
are transmitted among actors and the ways in which knowledge, opinions,
and attitudes are formed, or modified by interaction". Communication
may be facilitated by means of the high visibility within the larger
community. Intense interaction is easier where segregated living and
occupational segregation mark off a group from the rest of the community,
as in the case of this population. However, the factor of physical
isolation is not a static situation. Although the Brandywine population
is still predominantly rural, "there are indications of a consistent
and a statistically significant trend away from the older and
relatively isolated rural communities **h urbanization appears to be
an important factor in the disintegration of this group. This conclusion
is, however, an over-simplification. A more realistic analysis must
take into account the fact that Brandywine people in the urban-fringe
area are, in general, less segregated locally than group members
in rural areas. In the urban area, in other words, they, unlike some
urban ethnic groups, do not concentrate in ghetto colonies. Group pressures
toward conformity are slight or non-existent, and deviant behavior
in mate selection incurs few if any social sanctions. In such a setting
social contacts and associations are likely to be heterogamous,
resulting in a change of values and almost necessarily, in mate selection
behavior. To the extent that urban life contributes to the breakdown
of the group patterns of residential isolation, to that extent it
contributes directly to increased exogamy". _SOCIAL CONTROL:_
The process of social control is operative insofar as sanctions play
a part in the individual's behavior, as well as the group's behavior.
By means of this social control, deviance is either eliminated
or somehow made compatible with the function of the social group. Examples
from this population indicate that deviance seems to be sanctioned
by ostracism from the group. _SOCIALIZATION:_ There is an oral
tradition among the members of the population in regard to the origin
and subsequent separate status of the group in the larger society.
Confused and divided though this tradition may be, it is an important
part of the social and cultural heritage of the group, and acts as a
means of socialization, particularly for members of the rural community.
The fact of Indian ancestry and "free" status during the days
of slavery, are important distinctions made by members of the group.
_BOUNDARY MAINTENANCE:_ "Culturally induced social cohesion resulting
from common norms and values internalized by members of the group"
is operative in the boundary maintenance of the group as well
as in the process of socialization. The process of boundary maintenance
identifies and preserves the social system or subsystems, and the characteristic
interaction is maintained. As the threat of encroachment
on the system increases, the "probability of applied boundary maintenance
mechanisms increases". The fertility rate pattern would
seem to be a function, though a latent one, of the process of maintaining
the boundary. "Increased boundary maintenance may be achieved,
for example, by assigning a higher primacy or evaluation to activities
characteristic of the external pattern **h" The external pattern
or external system can be considered as "group behavior that enables
the group to survive in its environment **h" Boundary maintenance
for
this group would seem to be primarily social, as is the preference
for endogamy. It is also expressed in the proscription against deviants
in the matter of endogamy, particularly in rural areas. By their
pattern of endogamy and exogamy, the core families and the marginal families
show distinct limits to the intergroup contact they maintain.
_SYSTEMIC LINKAGE:_ Where boundary maintenance describes the boundaries
or limits of the group, systemic linkage is defined "as the
process whereby one or more of the elements of at least two social systems
is articulated in such a manner that the two systems in some ways
and on some occasions may be viewed as a single unit.

A royal decree issued in 1910, two years after the Belgian government
assumed authority for the administration of the Congo, prescribed
the registration of all adult males by chiefdoms. Further decrees
along this line were issued in 1916 and 1919. In 1922 a continuous
registration of the whole indigenous population was instituted by ordinance
of the Governor-General, and the periodic compilation of these
records was ordered. But specific procedures for carrying out this
plan were left to the discretion of the provincial governors. A unified
set of regulations, applicable to all areas, was issued in 1929, and
a complementary series of demographic inquiries in selected areas was
instituted at the same time. The whole system was again reviewed and
reorganized in 1933. General responsibility for its administration rested
with a division of the colonial government concerned with labor
supply and native affairs, Service des Affaires Indigenes et de la
Main-d'Oeuvre (~AIMO, **f Direction, **f Direction Generale,
Gouvernement Generale). Tribal authorities, the chiefs and their
secretaries, were held responsible for maintaining the registers of
indigenous persons within their territories, under the general supervision
of district officials. The district officials, along with their
other duties, were obliged to organize special demographic inquiries in
selected areas and to supervise the annual tabulations of demographic
statistics. The regulations require the inscription of each
individual (male or female, adult or child) on a separate card (<fiche>).
The cards, filed by <circonscription> (sub-chiefdom, or village),
are kept in the headquarters of each <territoire> (chiefdom). Each
card is expected to show certain information about the individual
concerned, including his or her date of birth (or age at a specified
time), spouses, and children. Additional entries must be made from time
to time. Different cards are used for males and females, and a corner
is clipped from the cards of adults, and of children when they reach
puberty. So a quick count could be made at any time, even by an illiterate
clerk, of the number of registered persons in four age-and-sex
classes. Personal identification cards are issued to all adult males
on which tax payments, inoculations, periods of employment, and changes
of residence are recorded. Similar identification cards were issued
in 1959 to all adult females. Each adult is held personally responsible
for assuring his inscription and obtaining an identification card
which must be shown on demand. The registration card of a person leaving
his home territory for a short period is put into a special file
for absent persons. The cards of permanent out-migrants are, in theory,
sent to an office in the place of new residence. Finally, the registration
of births and deaths by nearest relatives was made compulsory
in most regions. Numbers of registered persons in four age-and-sex
classes were counted each year. In addition, demographic inquiries,
supposedly involving field investigations, were conducted in selected
minor divisions (<circonscriptions>) containing about 3 percent
of the total population. The results of these inquiries were used to
adjust compilations of data from the registers and to provide various
ratios and rates by districts, including birth and death rates, general
fertility rates, distributions by marital status, fertility of wives
separately in polygynous and non-polygynous households, infant mortality,
and migration. The areas to be examined in these inquiries were
selected by local officials, supposedly as representative of a larger
population. Averages of the ratios obtained in a few selected areas
were applied to the larger population. The scheme, in theory,
is an ingenious adaptation of European registration systems to the conditions
of African life. But it places a severe strain on the administrative
resources (already burdened in other ways) of a widely dispersed,
poor and largely illiterate population. The sampling program was
instituted before the principles of probability sampling were widely
recognized in population studies. The system was not well adapted to
conditions of life in urban centers. The distinction between domiciled
(<de jure>) and present (<de facto>) population was not clearly
defined. So the results are subject to considerable confusion. The
system tended to break down during the war, but was reactivated; it
had reached the pre-war level of efficiency by 1951. In spite of the
defects in this system, the figures on total population during the late
1930's and again in the early 1950's seem to have represented actual
conditions in most districts with approximate fidelity. But the
information on the dynamics of population was often quite misleading.

The same system, with minor modifications, was developed in Ruanda-Urundi

under Belgian administration. Here again it seems that
useful approximations of the size and geographical distribution of the
population were obtained in this way in the late pre-war and early post-war
periods. Before considering more recent activities, we
should note another important aspect of demography in Belgian Africa.
A number of strong independent agencies, established in some cases
with governmental or royal support, have conducted large medical, social,
educational and research operations in particular parts of the Congo
and Ruanda-Urundi. The work of Fonds Reine Elisabeth pour l'Assistance
Medicale aux Indigenes du Congo Belge (~FOREAMI)
has special interest with respect to demography. This agency accepted
responsibility for medical services to a population ranging from
638,560 persons in 1941 to 840,503 in 1956 in the Kwango District
and adjacent areas east of Leopoldville. Each year from 1941 on, its
medical staff had conducted intensive field investigations to determine
changes in population structure and vital rates and, as its primary
objective, the incidence of major diseases. Its findings are reported
each year in its <Rapport sur l'activite pendant annee> **h (Bruxelles).
Somewhat similar investigations have been made by medical
officers in other areas. Other independent, or partially independent
agencies, have promoted investigations on topics directly or indirectly
related to demography. These studies vary widely in scope and precision.
L'Institut pour la Recherche Scientifique en Afrique Centrale
(~IRSAC) has sponsored well-designed field investigations and has
cooperated closely with the government of Ruanda-Urundi in the development
of its official statistics. A massive investigation
of the characteristics of in-migrants and prospective out-migrants in
Ruanda-Urundi is being carried on by J& J& Maquet, former Director
of the Social Science branch of ~IRSAC, now a professor
at l'Universite Officielle du Congo Belge et du Ruanda-Urundi.
Some 30,000 completed schedules with 20 items (collected by sub-chiefs
in 1,100 circumscriptions) have been tabulated. The results are
now being analyzed. Statistics have been recognized as a matter
of strategic importance in the Congo and in Ruanda-Urundi during
the post-war years in connection with long-term economic and social programs.
The ~AIMO organizations of both countries, which maintain
administrative services throughout the territories, retained immediate
responsibility for the collection and publication of demographic information.
However, the statistical offices of both governments were
assigned responsibility for the planning and analysis of these statistics.
A Bureau de la Demographie (A& Romaniuk, Director) was formed
under ~AIMO in the Congo, to work in close rapport with the
Section Statistique of the Secretariat General. Eventually responsibility
for demographic inquiries in the Congo was transferred to
the demographic division of the Central Statistical Office. The 1952
demographic inquiry in Ruanda-Urundi was directed by V& Neesen,
a member of the ~IRSAC staff, though the inquiry was carried
out under the auspices of ~AIMO, which has continuing responsibility
for demographic statistics in this territory. A member of the
~IRSAC staff (E& van de Walle) was recently delegated to cooperate
with ~AIMO in the development of demographic statistics
in this territory. The initiation of sampling censuses in Ruanda-Urundi
(1952) and in the Congo (1955-57) were major advances. We
will deal first with the program in the Congo though this was put into
operation later than the other. The radical nature of the
innovation in the Congo was not emphasized in the official announcements.
The term <enquetes demographiques>, previously used for the supplementary
investigations carried out in connection with the administrative
censuses, was used for the new investigations. However, the differences
in procedure are fundamental. These are as follows: _(1)
FIELD WORK PROCEDURES:_ Field operations were transferred from
administrative personnel primarily engaged in other tasks to specially
trained teams
of full-time African investigators (three teams, each working
in two provinces). These teams carried out the same operations
successively in different areas. _(2) NATURE OF THE SAMPLE:_ Sample
areas in the new investigations were selected strictly by application
of the principles of probability theory, so as to be representative
of the total population of defined areas within calculable limits.
In short, scientific sampling was introduced in place of subjective
sampling. The populations of the various districts, or other major divisions,
were stratified by type of community (rural, urban, mixed) and,
where appropriate, by ethnic affiliation and by type of economy. Sample
units (villages in rural areas, houses in cities) were drawn systematically
within these strata. _(3) SIZE OF THE SAMPLE:_ Different
sampling ratios were applied under different conditions. Higher
proportions were sampled in urban and mixed communities than in rural
areas. About 11 percent of the total population was covered in the new
investigation, as compared with about 3 percent in the previous inquiries.
_(4) QUESTIONS AND DEFINITIONS:_ Uniform questions, definitions,
and procedures were enforced throughout the whole country. Data
were obtained, separately, on three classes of persons: (a) residents,
present; (b) residents, absent; and (c) visitors. In the
reports, summary results are given for both the <de facto> (a and c)
and <de jure> (a and b) populations; but the subsequent analysis
of characteristics is reported only for the <de jure> population (or,
in some districts, only the <de facto> population). These
changes represent in effect, a shift from (1) an administrative compilation
of data obtained through procedures designed primarily to serve
political and economic objectives to (2) a systematic sampling census
of the whole African population. The population registration
system still has important functions. It supplies local data which are
useful in administration and which can be used as a basis for intensive
studies in particular situations. It provides a frame for the sampling
census. It also provides a frame within which the registration
of vital events is gradually gaining force (though one cannot expect to
obtain reliable vital statistics in most parts of the Congo from this
source in the near future). It is still used in making current population
estimates in post-census years, though the value of these estimates
is open to question. Finally, it may have certain very important,
less obvious values. Even though the registers may have an incomplete
record of persons present in a particular area or include persons
no longer living there, they contain precise information on ages, by date
of birth, for some of the persons present (especially children in
relatively stable communities) and supplementary information (such as
records of marital status) for many others. The quality of the census
data can, therefore, be greatly improved by the use of the registration
records in conjunction with the field inquiries. Furthermore, it may
be possible to estimate the error due to bias in method (as distinguished
from sampling error) in each of these sources, on such subjects
as fertility, mortality, and migration during a given interval by using
information from two largely independent sources in conjunction.

The first sampling census in the Congo extended over a three-year

period, 1955-57; the results were still being processed in 1959.
It is planned to double the number of teams and to make use of improved
equipment in a second demographic inquiry in 1960, so that the inquiry
can be carried through in one year and the results published more
expeditiously. It is proposed that in the future complete sampling censuses
be carried out at five-year intervals. Reports already
issued on the sampling census, 1955-57, in various areas run as follows
(using only the French and omitting corresponding Flemish titles):
@. This report contains preliminary notes and 35 tables.

Other reports in identical form, but with somewhat varying content,

have been issued for: @. These area reports will be
followed, according to present plans, by a summary report, which will
include a detailed statement on methods.

With this evidence in mind, the writer began to plan how he might
more effectively educate the married students in his functional classes.
Toward the end of the semester's work, he interviewed every
married class member at great length. He found, as he had suspected,
a
general consensus that perhaps over half of the present functionally designed
course was not really functional for these students. However,
all admitted that the "hind sight" was not altogether lost. In their
own words, it had aided them to get a clearer picture of how they
had gotten into their marriages, and perhaps they had obtained some
insights on why certain troubles appeared from time to time. In fact,
they went so far as to caution the writer that if he attempted to design
a section <exclusively> for married students there should be, at
the beginning, some "hind sight" study; but they all hastened to
add that certainly less time was needed on it than presently spent.
All of them felt a compelling need for more coverage on areas that could
be only lightly touched upon in a general survey functional course.

A few were doubtful about the merits of an exclusive section

for married students. As one of them expressed it, "It has done me
a world of good to listen to the nai^ve questions and comments of
these not-yet-married people. I can now better see just what processes
provoked certain actions from me in the past. Had I been in an all-married
section I would have missed this, and I believe that this single
aspect has been of great personal value to me". This comment
and others similar to it, would seem to indicate a possible justification
for continuing the status quo. But the weight of feeling was heavily
in the opposite direction. Thus, the writer decided to hold one experimental
section of the functional preparation for marriage course
in the spring semester of 1960 exclusively for persons already married-
that is, prerequisite: "marriage". This did not mean that married
students could not enroll in other "mixed" sections, and some
of them, largely because of scheduling difficulties, did. But only
those already married could enroll in this one section. In addition,
two other differences in the two types of sections must be noted. 1)
The regular sections do not allow freshmen; this one did. This action
was rationalized on the basis of a small survey which indicated that
a high percentage of married freshmen women on our campus never become
sophomores. Many of them appear to drop out, for one reason or another.
By permitting freshman students we might extend the opportunity
for such a course to some individuals who otherwise might never get
to take it. This has subsequently been verified by the experience. 2)
Auditors were encouraged. In the regular sections they have always
been more or less discouraged. The philosophy has been that if they could
find the time to attend class why not encourage them to get the credit
and perhaps provide an incentive to do the work more effectively.
Besides, auditors do not count on faculty load with the same weight
as regularly enrolled students. But in this one section we welcomed
auditors. Why? For no particular reason, other than that the writer
felt it might- just might- encourage both mates to be in attendance.
Many of the men on our campus have a pretty set curriculum, especially
in the various engineering fields, with few electives till the senior
year. Incidentally, it needs to be noted that because auditors were
permitted the section began increasing in numbers each week, until
at last it swelled to such proportions that this "free" auditing
policy had to be retracted. After that, we began to get "visitors"
to class. This experimental class represented quite a variety
of students. It ranged from a freshman woman, just married, through
the various academic growth stages, including one senior-graduate student,
to a young faculty member recently married to a senior man who also
attended. It ranged from those with no children, through students
in various stages of pregnancy, to one 44-year-old male with four children,
three of whom were teenagers. It ranged from two women members
who had experienced premarital pregnancy to one couple twelve years married
and seemingly unable to conceive. One might digress at
this point and speculate that if it is "wise" to create special sections
for special status, then why not a special section for women pregnant
before marriage, and one for 44-year-old men with teenage children,
and so on. Some of these speculations may have some merit, others
are somewhat ambiguous. But few who have experienced marriage can dispute
the fact that the focus of interpersonal relationships is different
<in> marriage than in a pre-marital situation. The writer
began this special class by explaining his background thinking for
creating such a section in the first place. He made it clear from the
beginning that this was the students' opportunity, and that the future
destiny of such groups depended on favorable results from this one.
He <did> build a framework of academic "respectability", and one
which did not encroach upon the "sacred sovereignty" of any other
existing campus course. This is to say that this was not a course
in wise buying or money spending methods, nor a course in how to raise
children. We already have courses covering those problems, and so on.
But within that framework he allowed for as much flexibility as possible.
A steering committee of students was organized on the first day
whose duty it was to be alert and constantly evaluate and re-evaluate
the direction and <pace> the class was taking. The writer, being
cognizant through his interviews of the reactions of previous married
students, did insist on there being included some "hind sight" material.
But the greater part of semester time was actually centered around
the attitudes "So we are married- now how do we make the best
of it"? or "How do we <enrich> our already fine marriage"?

Films were used, as with all sections, but with one big difference.
Our campus, unfortunately, owns no films. Since they are all
either rented or borrowed, the requested dates for their use have to
be far in advance. The writer never knew from week to week just where
the section might be. For example, the steering committee might announce
that the group felt a topic under study should not be dropped for
an additional week as there was still too much of it untouched. Since
the writer had established this democratic procedure in the beginning
he had to go along with their decision- after, of course, pointing
out
whether he thought their decision was a wise or an unwise one. Thus the
films seen as they came in (coordinated for the regular sections),
were often out of context. Nevertheless, the writer has never experienced
such spontaneity of discussion after film showings. Though
it did not become known to the writer for some time, a nucleus group
had sprung up within the class. They began to meet in the evenings and
carry forward various discussions they felt not fully enough covered
in class. From a few students this group gradually increased to include
over three-fourths of those officially enrolled in the class, and
many outsiders as well. Also, although only a few of the students were
intimately acquainted with each other in the beginning, most reported
that when the semester ended their dearest and closest campus friendships
were with members of that class. In fact, they often revamped
their social activities to include class members previously unknown.

Supplemental outside reading reports were handled just as in the

other sections, the major difference being that there was a noticeably
<deeper level> in the reported outside reading by the married group.
These students, although they might read various articles in popular
magazines, more often chose to report on articles found in the journals.
In addition to the noticeable difference in outside articles,
there was a considerable difference in the outside books they read. Whereas
a high per cent of the regular students can be expected to read
other texts which more or less plow the same ground in a little different
direction, the married students chose whole books on specific areas
and went into much greater detail in their areas of interest. Since
the writer had not noticed this characteristic in married students scattered
throughout the various sections previous to this experiment,
nor, as a matter of fact, in those who were continuing in "single sections",
he can only conclude that there must have been something "contagious"
within the specific group which caused this to occur.

In the main, this course took the following directional high roads:
1) A great deal of time was spent on <processes> for solving
marital differences. This was not a search for a "magic formula",
but rather an examination of basic principles pertaining especially
to all types of communication in marriage. In short, it was centered
around learning how to develop a <more sensitive empathy>. Not until
the group was satisfied in this area were they willing to venture further
to 2) Specific adjustment areas, such as sex, in-laws, religion,
finance, and so on. From here they proceeded to 3) These same areas
in relation to their own future family life stages, developing these
to the extent of examining various crises which could be expected to
confront them at some time or other. As an example of this last
facet, there were some lengthy discussions centered around bereavement.
Mainly these were concerned with the possibility of the death of
one parent and the complication of living with the survivor afterward,
but the possible death of one's own spouse was not overlooked. Since
the course, one member has lost her husband. This was not a particularly
shocking or unexpected thing- it was previously known to her
that it might happen. But just when was an unknown, and of course the
longer it did not happen, the stronger her wish and belief that it might
not. Since her bereavement this individual has reported to the writer
on numerous occasions about how helpful the class discussions were
to her in this adjustment crisis. Quite frequently class members
brought questions from their mates at home. These were often carefully
written out with a great deal of thought behind them. This added
a personal zest to class discussions and participation. Both
sexes reported that the discussions on sex adjustment within marriage
were extremely enlightening. The writer sensed a much freer and more
frank discussion, especially of this one area, than ever before. He
felt certain for the first time in his teaching experience that the men
in the class understood that orgasm, as a criterion, is not nearly so
essential for a satisfying female sexual experience as most males might
think. This was probably much more meaningful because all the women
in the class emphasized it time and again. On the other hand, the
women class members appeared to reach a far greater understanding than
have women members in other sections that it is more natural for males
as a group to view sex as sex rather than always associating it with
love as most women seem to do. in the reproductive area it could
be readily observed that all felt freer to discuss things than students
had previously in "mixed" marital status sections. Perhaps this
was related to the fact that all were in on it to some extent. Never
in other sections has there been the opportunity for the genuine down-to-earth
discussions about the feelings of both spouses during various
stages of pregnancy. There was a particularly marvelous opportunity
for study in this area since almost every stage of pregnancy was represented,
from a childless couple to and including every trimester.
In fact, we had one birth before the end of the course, and another student
had to take the final examiantion a week early, just to be on the
safe side. There was also one spontaneous abortion during the semester.
Thus it is reasonable to believe that there is a significant difference
between the two groups in their performance on this task after a brief
"structuring" experience. It was predicted that Kohnstamm-negative
subjects would adhere to more liberal, concretistic reports
of what the ambiguous figure "looked like" as reflecting their
hesitancy about taking chances. This was true mostly of those Kohnstamm-negative
subjects who did not perceive the ambiguous figure as people
in action. Responses such as "rope with a loop in it", and "two
pieces of rope", were quite characteristic. _GUILFORD-MARTIN
PERSONALITY INVENTORIES._ The three personality inventories (Guilford
~STDCR; Guilford-Martin ~GAMIN; Guilford-Martin
~OAGCo), were filled out by 12 of the Kohnstamm-positive
subjects and 19 of the Kohnstamm-negative subjects. These were the
same subjects who were given the Rorschach test. Some predictions
had been made concerning factors ~R, ~N, ~I and ~Co on these
inventories which appeared to be directly related to control and security
aspects of personality functioning which were hypothesized as
being of importance in differential Kohnstamm reactivity. Only
~Co differentiated between the two groups at less that the 5% level
(**f). One prediction had been made about the difference
in
security or self-confidence between those subjects who shifted their Kohnstamm
reactivity when informed and those who did not. The nonreactors
had been separated into two groups on this assumption with the presumably
"secure" nonreactors and "secure" reactors being used
as the groups for comparative personality studies. It was predicted
that those who shifted in their Kohnstamm reactivity would differ significantly
from those who did not on the factor ~I which the investigators
refer to as the "Inferiority" factor. All of the subjects
in the Kohnstamm-negative and Kohnstamm-positive groups (as defined
for purposes of the personality studies) were compared with those subjects
who shifted in Conditions /3, or /4,. A ~t test on these
two groups, shifters vs& nonshifters, gave a "~t" value of 2.405
which
is significant on the two-tail test at the .028 level.

#DISCUSSION#

_INDIVIDUAL DIFFERENCES_ Individual differences in Kohnstamm

reactivity to controlled Kohnstamm situations were found among the
subjects used in the study. Only 27% (11 subjects) gave a positive
Kohnstamm reaction when completely nai^ve concerning the phenomenon.
There were 49% (20 subjects) who did not give a positive reaction
even after they were informed of the normalcy of such a reaction and
had been given a demonstration. There were 24% (10 subjects) who
shifted from a negative to a positive reaction after they were reassured
as to the normalcy of the Kohnstamm-positive reaction. Among
this latter group there were also differences in the amount and kind
of information necessary before a shift in reaction occurred. One subject
changed when given only the information that some people have something
happen to their arm when they relax. Five subjects (12%) did
not change until they had been told that some people have something
happen to their arm, what that something was, and also were given a
demonstration.
Four subjects (10%) did not change even then but needed
the additional information that an arm-elevation under these circumstances
was a perfectly normal reflex reaction which some people showed
while others did not. At no time was it implied by the experimenter
that the subject's initial reaction was deviant. The subjects were
only given information about <other possibilities of "normal" reaction>.
Those who responded with an arm-elevation in the nai^ve state
did not change their reaction when told that there were some normal
people who did not react in this fashion. This information was accepted
with the frequent interpretation that those persons who did not
show arm-levitation must be preventing it. These subjects implied that
they too could prevent their arms from rising if they tried.
The positive Kohnstamm reactivity in Condition /1, (the nai^ve
state) is not adequately explained by such a concept as suggestibility
(if suggestibility is defined as the influence on behavior by verbal
cues). In no way, either verbally or behaviorally, did the experimenter
indicate to the subjects any preferred mode of responding to the voluntary
contraction. Moreover, when the experimenter did inform those
subjects that there were some normal people who did not have their arm
rise once they relaxed, the Kohnstamm-positive subjects were uninfluenced
in their subsequent reactions to the Kohnstamm situation. They
continued to give an arm-elevation. A differential suggestibility would
have to be invoked to explain the failure of this additional information
to influence the Kohnstamm-positive reactors and yet attribute
their nai^ve Kohnstamm reactivity to suggestion. Autosuggestibility,
the reaction of the subject in such a way as to conform to his own
expectations of the outcome (i&e&, that the arm-rise is a reaction
to the pressure exerted in the voluntary contraction, because of his
knowledge that "to every reaction there is an equal and opposite reaction")
also seems inadequate as an explanation for the following
reasons: (1) the subjects' apparently genuine experience of surprise
when their arms rose, and (2) manifestations of the phenomenon despite
anticipations of something else happening (e&g&, of becoming dizzy
and maybe falling, an expectation spontaneously volunteered by one
of the subjects). A suggestion hypothesis also seems inadequate
as an explanation for those who shifted their reactions after they
were informed of the possibilities of "normal" reactions different
from those which they gave. While they were told that there were some
normal people who reacted differently than they had, they were also informed
that there were other normals who reacted as they had. There
was no implication made that their initial reaction (absence of an arm-elevation)
was less preferred than the presence of levitation. A more
tenable explanation for the change in reactions is that the added knowledge
and increased familiarity with the total situation made it possible
for these subjects to be less guarded and to relax, since any reaction
seemed acceptable to the examiner as "normal". The
nai^ve state, Condition /1,, could therefore be viewed as an inhibiting
one for 24% of the subjects in this study. They were not free
to be themselves in this situation, an interpersonal one, where there
was an observer of their reactions and they had no guide for acceptable
behavior. Instructions to relax, i&e&, to be "spontaneous",
and react immediately to whatever impulse they might have, was not sufficiently
reassuring until some idea of the possibilities of normal reactions
had been given. While other conditions might be even more effective
in bringing about a change from immobility to mobility in Kohnstamm
reactivity, it is our hypothesis that all such conditions would
have as a common factor the capacity to induce an attitude in the subject
which enabled him to divorce himself temporarily from feelings of
responsibility for his behavior. Alcohol ingestion succeeded in
changing immobility to mobility quite strikingly in one pilot subject
(the only one with whom this technique was tried). This subject, who
has been undergoing psychoanalytic psychotherapy for five years, did
not give a positive Kohnstamm reaction under any of the four standardized
conditions used in this experiment while sober. After two drinks
containing alcohol, her arm flew upward very freely. There was evident
delight on the part of the subject in response to her experience of
the freedom of movement. She described herself as having the same kind
of "irresponsible" feeling as she had once experienced under hypnosis.
She ascribed her delight with both experiences to the effect
they seemed to have of temporarily removing from her the controls which
she felt so compulsively necessary to maintain even when it might
seem appropriate to relax these controls. Many subjects attributed
differences
in Kohnstamm reactivity to differences in degrees of subjective
control- voluntary as the Kohnstamm-positive subjects perceived
it and involuntary as the Kohnstamm-negative subjects perceived it.
These suggested interpretations were given by the subjects spontaneously
when they were told that there were people who reacted differently
than they had. The Kohnstamm-positive subjects described the vivid
experience of having their arms rise as one in which they exercised no
control. They explained its absence in others on the basis of an intervention
of control factors. They felt that they too could counteract
the upward arm movement by a voluntary effort after they had once experienced
the reaction. Some of those who did not initially react with
an arm-elevation also associated their behavior in the situation with
control factors- an inability to relinquish control voluntarily.
One subject spontaneously asked (after her arm had finally risen), "Do
you suppose I was unconsciously keeping it down before"? Another
said that her arm did not go up at first "because I wouldn't
let it; I thought it wasn't supposed to". This subject was
one
who gave an arm-elevation on the second trial in the nai^ve state but
not in the first. She had felt that her arm wanted to go up in the
first trial, but had consciously prevented it from so doing. She
explained nonreactivity of others by saying that they were "not letting
themselves relax". When informed that there were some persons who
did not have their arm go up, she commented, "I don't see how
they can prevent it". In contrast to this voluntary-control explanation
for nonreactivity given by the Kohnstamm-positive subjects, the
Kohnstamm-negative
subjects offered an involuntary-control hypothesis
to explain nonreactivity. They felt that they were relaxing as much as
they could and that any control factors which might be present to prevent
response must be on an unconscious level. The above discussion
does not mean to imply that control factors were completely in
abeyance in the Kohnstamm-positive subjects; but rather that they could
be diminished sufficiently not to interfere with arm-levitation.
One Kohnstamm-positive subject who had both arms rise while being tested
in the nai^ve condition described her subjective experience as
follows: "You feel they're going up and you're on a stage and
it's not right for them to do so and then you think maybe that's
what's supposed to happen". She then described her experience as
one in which she first had difficulty accepting for herself a state of
being in which she relinquished control. However, she was able to relax
and yield to the moment. It is our hypothesis that Kohnstamm-positive
subjects are less hesitant about relinquishing control than are
Kohnstamm-negative subjects; that they can give up their control and
allow themselves to be reactors rather than actors. It is our belief
that this readiness to relinquish some control was evidenced by the
Kohnstamm-positive
subjects in some of the other experimental situations
to be discussed below. Thus, this readiness to relax controls, evidenced
in the Kohnstamm situation, appears to be a more general personality
factor. _ANISEIKONIC ILLUSION_ The Kohnstamm-positive subjects
seemed to be freer to experience the unusual and seemingly impossible
in the external world. There was a significantly greater number
in this group who reported a desk as being in a tilted position while
a tennis ball resting on it remained stationary on the incline. This
occurred in spite of the rational awareness that the ball should be going
downhill. They knew that their perceptual experience differed from
objective reality since they had seen the desk and ball prior to putting
on the aniseikonic lenses. Yet they were not so bound by past experience
and constriction as to deny their immediate perceptions and to
be dominated by their knowledge of what the experience should be. The
change in perceptions by some of the Kohnstamm-negative subjects,
after they had been informed of the possibilities of normal reactions,
suggests that their constriction and guardedness is associated with
their general mode of responding to strange or unknown situations. They
were able to experience at first, in terms of past conventionality.
When informed as to the various possibilities of normal reactions, they
were then able to experience the uniqueness of the present. It might
be postulated that these subjects are unduly afraid of being wrong;
that they perceive new internal and environmental situations as "threatening"
until they are tested and proved otherwise. While
the interpretations that have been given are inferences only, they
gain support from such comments as the following, which was made by one
of the Kohnstamm-negative subjects who did not, on the first trial,
perceive the tilt illusion.
_CONTROL OF SOCIOECONOMIC STATUS_ It would have been desirable for
the two communities to have differed only in respect to the variable
being investigated: the degree of structure in teaching method. The
structured schools were in an industrial city, with three-family tenement
houses typical of the residential areas, but with one rather sizable
section of middle-class homes. The unstructured schools were in
a large suburban community, predominantly middle- to upper-middle class,
but fringed by an industrial area. In order to equate the samples
on socioeconomic status, we chose schools in both cities on the basis
of socioeconomic status of the neighborhoods. School principals and guidance
workers made ratings of the various neighborhoods and the research
team made independent observations of houses and dwelling areas.
An objective scale was developed for rating school neighborhoods from
these data. Equal proportions of children in each city were drawn from
upper-lower and lower-middle class neighborhoods. _SUBJECTS_ Individual
differences in maturation and the development of readiness for
learning to read indicate that not until the third grade have most
children had ample opportunity to demonstrate their capacity for school
achievement. Therefore, third-grade children were chosen as subjects
for this study. For purposes of sample selection only (individual
tests were given later) we obtained group test scores of reading
achievement and intelligence from school records of the entire third-grade
population in each school system. The subjects for this study were
randomly selected from stratified areas of the distribution, one-third
as underachievers, one-third medium, and one-third over-achievers.
Children whose reading scores were at least one standard deviation
below the regression line of each total third-grade school population
were considered under-achievers for the purposes of sample selection.
Over-achievers were at least one standard deviation above the regression
line in their school system. The final sample was not significantly
different from a normal distribution in regard to reading achievement
or intelligence test scores. Twenty-four classrooms in twelve unstructured
schools furnished 156 cases, 87 boys and 69 girls. Eight classrooms
in three structured schools furnished 72 cases, 36 boys and 36
girls. Administrative restrictions necessitated the smaller sample size
in the structured schools. It was assumed that the sampling
procedure was purely random with respect to the personality variables
under investigation. _RATING SCALE OF COMPULSIVITY_ An interview
schedule of open-ended questions and a multiple-choice questionnaire
were prepared, and one parent of each of the sample children was seen
in the home. The parent was asked to describe the child's typical
behavior in certain standard situations in which there was an opportunity
to observe tendencies toward perfectionism in demands upon self
and others, irrational conformity to rules, orderliness, punctuality,
and need for certainty. The interviewers were instructed not to suggest
answers and, as much as possible, to record the parents' actual
words as they described the child's behavior in home situations.

The rating scale of compulsivity was constructed by first perusing

the interview records, categorizing all evidence related to compulsivity,
then arranging a distribution of such information apart from the
case records. Final ratings were made on the basis of a point system
which was developed after studying the distributions of actual behaviors
recorded and assigning weight values to each type of behavior that
was deviant from the discovered norms. Children scoring high in compulsivity
were those who gave evidence of tension or emotionality in situations
where there was lack of organization or conformity to standards
and expectations, or who made exaggerated efforts to achieve these goals.
The low compulsive child was one who appeared relatively unconcerned
about such matters. For instance, the following statement was rated
low in compulsivity, "She's naturally quite neat about things,
but it doesn't bother her at all if her room gets messy. But she
cleans it up very well when I remind her". _MEASUREMENT OF ANXIETY_
Castaneda, <et al>& revised the Taylor Anxiety Scale for
use with children. The Taylor Scale was adapted from the Minnesota
Multiphastic Personality Inventory, with item selection based upon
clinical definitions of anxiety. There is much research evidence to
validate the use of the instrument in differentiating individuals who
are likely to manifest anxiety in varying degrees. Reliability and validation
work with the Children's Anxiety Scale by Castaneda, <et
al>& demonstrated results closely similar to the findings with
the adult scale. Although the Taylor Scale was designed as a group
testing device, in this study it was individually administered by psychologically
trained workers who established rapport and assisted the children
in reading the items. _RELATIONSHIP OF ANXIETY TO COMPULSIVITY_
The question may be raised whether or not we are dealing with
a common factor in anxiety and compulsivity. The two ratings yield a
correlation of +.04, which is not significantly different from zero;
therefore, we have measured two different characteristics. In theory,
compulsive behavior is a way of diminishing anxiety, and one might expect
a negative association except for the possibility that for many
children the obsessive-compulsive defenses are not sufficient to quell
the amount of anxiety they suffer. The issue of interaction between
anxiety and compulsivity will be taken up later. _CRITERION MEASUREMENT_
In the primary grades, reading permeates almost every aspect of
school progress, and the children's early experiences of success or
failure in learning to read often set a pattern of total achievement
that is relatively enduring throughout the following years. In establishing
criterion measurements, it was therefore thought best to broaden
the scope beyond the reading act itself. The predicted interaction
effect should, if potent, extend its influence over all academic achievement.

The Stanford Achievement Test, Form ~J, was administered

by classroom teachers, consisting of a battery of six sub-tests:
Paragraph Meaning, Word Meaning, Spelling, Language, Arithmetic
Computation, and Arithmetic Reasoning. All of these sub-tests
involve reading except Arithmetic Computation. Scores are stated
in grade-equivalents on a national norm. The battery median grade-equivalent
was used in data analysis in this study. The Wechsler
Intelligence Scale for Children was administered to each sample
third-grade child by a clinical worker. The relationship of intelligence
test scores to school achievement is a well-established fact (in this
case, **f); therefore, in the investigation of the present hypothesis,
it was necessary to control this factor. The criterion score
used in the statistical analysis is an index of over- or under-achievement.
It is the discrepancy between the actual attained achievement
test score and the score that would be predicted by the I&Q&.
For example, on the basis of the regression equation, a child with
an I&Q& of 120 in this sample would be expected to earn an achievement
test score of 4.8 (grade equivalent). If a child with an I&Q&
of 120 scored 5.5 in achievement, his discrepancy score would be
+.7, representing .7 of one year of over-achievement. A child with an
I&Q& of 98 would be expected to earn an achievement test score
of 3.5. If such a child scored 3.0, his discrepancy score would be -.5,
representing .5 of one year of under-achievement. In this manner,
the factors measured by the intelligence test were controlled, allowing
discovered differences in achievement to be interpreted as resulting
from other variables.

#RESULTS#

_TEST OF INTERACTION OF COMPULSIVITY

AND TEACHING METHODS_ Tables 1 and 2 present the results of
the statistical analysis of the data when compulsivity is used as the
descriptive variable. Figure 1 portrays the mean achievement scores of
each sub-group graphically. First of all, as we had surmised, the highly
compulsive children in the structured setting score significantly
better (**f) on achievement than do similar children in the unstructured
schools. It can be seen too that when we contrast levels of compulsivity
within the structured schools, the high compulsive children do
better (**f). No significant difference was found in achievement between
high and low compulsive children within the unstructured school. The
hypothesis of there being an interaction between compulsivity and teaching
method was supported, in this case, at the .05 level. While
we had expected that compulsive children in the unstructured school
setting would have difficulty when compared to those in the structured,
we were surprised to find that the achievement of the high compulsives
within the schools where the whole-word method is used in beginning
reading compares favorably with that of the low compulsives. Indeed
their achievement scores were somewhat better on an absolute basis
although the difference was not significant. We speculate that compulsives
in the unstructured schools are under greater strain because of
the lack of systemization in their school setting, but that their need
to organize (for comfort) is so intense that they struggle to induce
the phonic rules and achieve in spite of the lack of direction from the
environment. It is interesting to note that medium compulsives
in the unstructured schools made the lowest achievement scores (although
not significantly lower). Possibly their compulsivity was not strong
enough to cause them to build their own structure. Our conjecture
is, then, that regardless of the manner in which school lessons
are taught, the compulsive child accentuates those elements of each
lesson that aid him in systematizing his work. When helped by a high
degree of structure in lesson presentation, then, and only then, does
such a child attain unusual success. _TEST OF INTERACTION OF ANXIETY
AND TEACHING METHODS_ The statistical analyses of achievement in
relation to anxiety and teaching methods and the interactions of the
two are presented in Tables 3 and 4. Figure 2 is a graph of the mean
achievement scores of each group. As predicted, the highly anxious children
in the unstructured schools score more poorly (**f) than those
in
the structured schools. The interaction effect, which is significant
at the .01 level, can be seen best in the contrast of mean scores. While
high anxiety children achieve significantly less well (**f) in the
unstructured school than do low anxiety children, they appear to do at
least as well as the average in the structured classroom. The
most striking aspect of the interaction demonstrated is the marked decrement
in performance suffered by the highly anxious children in unstructured
schools. According to the theory proposed, this is a consequence
of the severe condition of perceived threat that persists unabated
for the anxious child in an ambiguous sort of school environment. The
fact that such threat is potent in the beginning reading lessons is
thought to be a vital factor in the continued pattern of failure or
under-achievement
these children exhibit. The child with high anxiety may
first direct his anxiety-released energy toward achievement, but because
his distress severely reduces the abilities of discrimination and
memorization of complex symbols, the child may fail in his initial attempts
to master the problem. Failure confirms the threat, and the intensity
of anxiety is increased as the required learning becomes more
difficult, so that by the time the child reaches the third grade the
decrement in performance is pronounced. The individual with high
anxiety in the structured classroom may approach the learning task
with the same increased energy and lowered powers of discrimination. But
the symbols he is asked to learn are simple. As shown earlier, the
highly anxious individual may be superior in his memorizing of simple
elements. Success reduces the prospect of threat and his powers of
discrimination are improved. By the time the child first attacks the
actual problem of reading, he is completely familiar and at ease with
all of the elements of words. Apparently academic challenge in the structured
setting creates an optimum of stress so that the child with high
anxiety is able to achieve because he is aroused to an energetic state
without becoming confused or panicked. Sarason <et al>&
present evidence that the anxious child will suffer in the test-like
situation, and that his performance will be impaired unless he receives
supporting and accepting treatment from the teacher. Although the
present study was not a direct replication of their investigations, the
results do not confirm their conclusion. Observers, in the two school
systems studied here, judged the teachers in the structured schools
to be more impersonal and demanding, while the atmosphere in the
unstructured schools was judged to be more supporting and accepting.
Yet the highly anxious child suffered a tremendous disadvantage only
in the unstructured school, and performed as well or better than average
in the structured setting.
_ANALYSIS_ Analysis means the evaluation of subparts, the comparative
ratings of parts, the comprehension of the meaning of isolated elements.
Analysis in roleplaying is usually done for the purpose of understanding
strong and weak points of an individual or as a process to
eliminate weak parts and strengthen good parts. _IMPERSONAL PURPOSES_
Up to this point stress has been placed on roleplaying in terms
of individuals. Roleplaying can be done for quite a different purpose:
to evaluate procedures, regardless of individuals. For example:
a sales presentation can be analyzed and evaluated through roleplaying.
_EXAMPLES_ Let us now put some flesh on the theoretical bones
we have assembled by giving illustrations of roleplaying used for evaluation
and analysis. One should keep in mind that many of the exciting
possiblities of roleplaying are largely unexplored and have not been
used in industry to the extent that they have been in military and other
areas. _EVALUATION_ The president of a small firm selling restaurant
products, had considerable difficulty in finding suitable salesmen
for his business. Interviewing, checking references, training the
salesmen, having them go with more experienced salesmen was expensive-
and the rate of attrition due to resignations or unsatisfactory
performance was too high. It was his experience that only one good salesman
was found out of every seven hired- and only one was hired out
of every seven interviewed. Roleplaying was offered as a solution-
and the procedure worked as follows: all candidates were invited
to a hotel conference room, where the president explained the difficulty
he had, and how unnecessary it seemed to him to hire people who
just did not work out. In place of asking salesmen to fill questionnaires,
checking their references, interviewing them, asking them to
be tried out, he told them he would prefer to test them. Each person
was to enter the testing room, carrying a suitcase of samples. Each salesman
was to read a sheet containing a description of the product. In
the testing room he was to make, successively, three presentations
to three different people. In the testing room, three of the veteran
salesmen served as antagonists. One handled the salesman in a
friendly manner, another in a rough manner, and the third in a hesitating
manner. Each was told to purchase material if he felt like it. The
antagonists came in, one at a time, and did not see or hear the other
presentations. After each presentation, the antagonist wrote his judgment
of the salesmen; and so did the observers consisting of the
president, three of his salesmen and a psychologist. Ten salesmen
were tested in the morning and ten more in the afternoon. This procedure
was repeated one day a month for four months. The batting average
of one success out of seven increased to one out of three. The president
of the firm, calculating expenses alone, felt his costs had dropped
one-half while success in selection had improved over one hundred
per cent. The reason for the value of this procedure was simply
that the applicants were tested "at work" in different situations
by the judgment of a number of experts who could see how the salesmen
conducted themselves with different, but typical restaurant owners
and managers. They were, in a sense, "tried out" in realistic situations.

From the point of view of the applicants, less time

was wasted in being evaluated- and they got a meal out of it as well
as some insights into their performances. Another use of roleplaying
for evaluation illustrates how this procedure can be used in
real life situations without special equipment or special assistants during
the daily course of work. The position of receptionist was
opened in a large office and an announcement was made to the other
girls already working that they could apply for this job which had higher
prestige and slightly higher salary than typing and clerking positions.
All applicants were generally familiar with the work of the receptionist.
At the end of work one day, the personnel man took the applicants
one at a time, asked them to sit behind the receptionist's desk
and he then played the role of a number of people who might come to
the receptionist with a number of queries and for a number of purposes.
Each girl was independently "tested" by the personnel man, and
he served not only as the director, but as the antagonist and the observer.

Somewhat to his surprise he found that one girl, whom

he would never have considered for the job since she had appeared somewhat
mousy and also had been in the office a relatively short time, did
the most outstanding job of playing the role of receptionist, showing
wit, sparkle, and aplomb. She was hired and was found to be entirely
satisfactory when she played the role eight hours a day. _ANALYSIS_
In considering roleplaying for analysis we enter a more complex area,
since we are now no longer dealing with a simple over-all decision
but rather with the examination and evaluation of many elements seen
in dynamic functioning. Some cases in evidence of the use of roleplaying
for analysis may help explain the procedure. An engineer
had been made the works manager of a firm, supplanting a retired employee
who had been considered outstandingly successful. The engineer had
more than seven years of experience in the firm, was well trained, was
considered a hard worker, was respected by his fellow engineers for
his technical competence and was regarded as a "comer". However,
he turned out to be a complete failure in his new position. He seemed
to antagonize everyone. Turnover rates of personnel went up, production
dropped, and morale was visibly reduced. Despite the fact that he
was regarded as an outstanding engineer, he seemed to be a very poor
administrator, although no one quite knew what was wrong with him. At
the insistence of his own supervisor- the president of the firm, he
enrolled in a course designed to develop leaders. He played
a number of typical situations before observers, other supervisors who
kept notes and then explained to him in detail what he did they thought
was wrong. Entirely concerned with efficiency, he was merciless in
criticizing people who made mistakes, condemning them to too great an
extent. He did not really listen to others, had little interest in their
ideas, and wanted to have his own way- which was the only right
way. The entire group of managers explained, in great detail, a number
of human relations errors that he made. One by one, these
errors were discussed and one by one he rejected accepting them as errors.
He admitted his behavior, and defended it. He refused to change
his approach, and instead he attacked high and low- the officials for
their not backing him, and subordinates for their laxness, stupidity,
and stubbornness. After the diagnosing, he left the course, convinced
that it could do him no good. We may say that his problem
was diagnosed but that he refused treatment. The engineer turned works
manager had a particular view of life- and refused to change it. We
may say that his attitude was foolish, since he may have been a success
had he learned some human relations skills; or we may say that
his attitude was commendable, showing his independence of mind, in his
refusal to adjust to the opinions of others. In any case, he refused
to accept the implications of the analysis, that he needed to be made
over. Another case may be given in illustration of a successful
use of analysis, and also of the employment of a procedure for intensive
analysis. In a course for supermarket operators, a district manager
who had been recently appointed to his position after being outstandingly
successful as a store manager, found that in supervising other
managers he was having a difficult time. On playing some typical situations
before a jury of his peers he showed some characteristics rated
as unsatisfactory. He was told he displayed, for example, a sense
of superiority- and he answered: "Well, I am supposed to know
all the answers, aren't I"? He was criticized for his curtness
and abruptness- and he answered: "I am not working to become
popular". On being criticized for his arbitrary behavior- he answered:
"I have to make decisions. That's my job". In short,
as frequently happens in analyses, the individual feels threatened and
defends himself. However, in this case the district manager was led
to see the errors of his ways. The necessary step between diagnosis and
training is acceptance of the validity of the criticisms. How this
was accomplished may be described, since this sometimes is a crucial
problem. The director helped tailor-make a check list of the district
manager's errors by asking various observers to write out sentences
commenting on the mistakes they felt he made. These errors were
then collected and written on a blackboard, condensing similar ideas.
Eighteen errors were located, and then the director asked each individual
to vote whether or not they felt that this manager had made the
particular errors. They were asked to vote "true" if they thought
they had seen him make the error, "false" if they thought he had
not; and "cannot say" if they were not certain. The manager
sat behind the group so he could see and count the hands that went
up, and the director wrote the numbers on the blackboard. No comments
were made during the voting. The results looked as follows: **f.

The first eight of these eighteen statements, which received

at least one-half of the votes, were duplicated to form an analysis
checklist for the particular manager, and when this particular manager
roleplayed in other situations, the members checked any items that appeared.
To prevent the manager from deliberately controlling himself
only during the sessions, they were rather lengthy (about twenty minutes),
the situations were imperfectly described to the manager so that
he would not know what to expect, new antagonists were brought on the
scene unexpectedly, and the antagonists were instructed to deliberately
behave in such ways as to upset the manager and get him to operate in
a manner for which he had been previously criticized. After
every session, the check marks were totaled up and graphed, and in this
way the supervisor's progress was charted. _SUMMARY_ In life
we learn to play our roles and we "freeze" into patterns which become
so habitual that we are not really aware of what we do. We can see
others more clearly than we can see ourselves, and others can see us
better than we see ourselves. To learn what we do is the first step
for improvement. To accept the validity of the judgments of others is
the second step. To want to change is the third step. To practice new
procedures under guided supervision and with constant feedback is the
fourth step. To use these new ways in daily life is the last step.
Roleplaying used for analysis follows these general steps leading to
training. When an evaluative situation is set up, and no concern
is with the details that lead to an over-all estimate, we say that
roleplaying is used for evaluation. Observers can see a person engaged
in spontaneous behavior, and watch him operating in a totalistic fashion.
This behavior is more "veridical"- or true than other
testing behavior for some types of evaluation, and so can give quick and
accurate estimates of complex functioning. While roleplaying
for testing is not too well understood at the present time, it represents
one of the major uses of this procedure.

#CHAPTER /10, SPONTANEITY

TRAINING#

THE OBJECTIVE OF THIS CHAPTER is to clarify

the distinctions between spontaneity theory and other training concepts.
In addition, the basic approach utilized in applying roleplaying will
be reviewed. The goal will be to provide the reader with an integrated
rationale to aid him in applying roleplaying techniques in this
unique training area. The reasons for extracting this particular roleplaying
application from the previous discussion of training are twofold:
_1._ Spontaneity training theory is unique and relatively new.
It is not easy for the therapist to discern when, in the patient's
communicating, an introject has appeared and is holding sway. One
learns to become alert to changes in his vocal tone- to his voice's
suddenly shifting to a quality not like his usual one, a quality
which sounds somehow artificial or, in some instances, parrotlike. The
content of his words may lapse back into monotonous repetition, as
if a phonograph needle were stuck in one groove; only seldom is it so
simple as to be a matter of his obviously parroting some timeworn axiom,
common to our culture, which he has evidently heard, over and over,
from a parent until he experiences it as part of him. One hebephrenic
woman often became submerged in what felt to me like a somehow
phony experience of pseudo-emotion, during which, despite her wracking
sobs and streaming cheeks, I felt only a cold annoyance with her.
Eventually such incidents became more sporadic, and more sharply demarcated
from her day-after-day behavior, and in one particular session,
after several minutes of such behavior- which, as usual, went on
without any accompanying words from her- she asked, eagerly, "Did
you see Granny"? At first I did not know what she meant; I
thought she must be seeing me as some one who had just come from
seeing
her grandmother, in their distant home-city. Then I realized that
she had been deliberately showing me, this time, what Granny was like;
and when I replied in this spirit, she corroborated my hunch.

At another phase in the therapy, when a pathogenic mother-introject

began to emerge more and more upon the investigative scene, she muttered
in a low but intense voice, to herself, "I hate that woman inside
me"! I could evoke no further elaboration from her about this;
but a few seconds later she was standing directly across the room
from me, looking me in the eyes and saying in a scathingly condemnatory
tone, "Your
father despises you"! Again, I at first misconstrued
this disconcertingly intense communication, and I quickly cast
through my mind to account for her being able to speak, with such utter
conviction, of an opinion held by my father, now several years deceased.
Then I replied, coldly, "If you despise me, why don't you
say so, directly"? She looked confused at this, and I felt sure
it had been a wrong response for me to make. It then occurred to me to
ask, "Is that what that woman told you"? She clearly agreed
that this had been the case. I realized, now, that she had been showing
me, in what impressed me as being a very accurate way, something her
mother had once said to her; it was as if she was showing me one of
the reasons why she hated that woman inside her. What had been an unmanageably
powerful introject was now, despite its continuing charge
of energy disconcerting to me, sufficiently within control of her ego
that she could use it to show me what this introjected mother was like.

Earlier, this woman had been so filled with a chaotic variety

of introjects that at times, when she was in her room alone, it would
sound to a passerby as though there were several different persons in
the room, as she would vocalize in various kinds of voice. A somewhat
less fragmented hebephrenic patient of mine, who used to often seclude
herself in her room, often sounded through the closed door- as I
would find on passing by, between our sessions- for all the world
like two persons, a scolding mother and a defensive child. Particularly
hard for the therapist to grasp are those instances in which
the patient is manifesting an introject traceable to something in the
therapist, some aspect of the therapist of which the latter is himself
only poorly aware, and the recognition of which, as a part of himself,
he finds distinctly unwelcome. I have found, time and again, that
some bit of particularly annoying and intractable behavior on the part
of a patient rests, in the final analysis, on this basis; and only
when I can acknowledge this, to myself, as being indeed an aspect of
my personality, does it cease to be a prominently troublesome aspect of
the patient's behavior. For example, one hebephrenic man used to
annoy me, month after month, by saying, whenever I got up to leave and
made my fairly steoreotyped comment that I would be seeing him on the
following day, or whenever, "You're welcome", in a notably condescending
fashion- as though it were his due for me to thank him
for the privilege of spending the hour with him, and he were thus pointing
up my failure to utter a humbly grateful, "thank you" to him
at the end of each session. Eventually it became clear to me, partly
with the aid of another schizophrenic patient who could point out my
condescension to me somewhat more directly, that this man, with his
condescending,
"You're welcome", was very accurately personifying
an element of obnoxious condescension which had been present in my own
demeanor, over these months, on each of these occasions when I had
bid him good-bye with the consoling note, each time, that the healing
Christ would be stooping to dispense this succor to the poor suffered
again on the morrow. Another patient, a paranoid woman, for many
months infuriated not only me but the ward-personnel and her fellow
patients by arrogantly behaving as though she owned the whole building,
as though she were the only person in it whose needs were to be met.
This behavior on her part subsided only after I had come to see the
uncomfortably close similarity between, on the one hand, her arranging
the ventilation of the common living room to her own liking, or turning
the television off or on without regard to the wishes of the others,
and on the other hand, my own coming stolidly into her room despite
her persistent and vociferous objections, bringing my big easy chair
with me, usually shutting the windows of her room which she preferred
to keep in a very cold state, and plunking myself down in my chair-
in short, behaving as if I owned her room.

#4. CONDENSATION:#

Here a variety of meanings and emotions are concentrated, or reduced,

in their communicative expression, to some comparatively simple-seeming
verbal or nonverbal statement. One finds, for example,
that a terse and stereotyped
verbal expression, seeming at first to be
a mere hollow convention, reveals itself over the months of therapy
as the vehicle for expressing the most varied and intense feelings, and
the most unconventional of meanings. More than anything, it is the
therapist's intuitive sensing of these latent meanings in the stereotype
which helps these meanings to become revealed, something like a spread-out
deck of cards, on sporadic occasions over the passage of the
patient's and his months of work together. one cannot assume, of course,
that all these accumulated meanings were inherent in the stereotype
at the beginning of the therapy, or at any one time later on when
the stereotype was uttered; probably it is correct to think of it as
a matter of a well-grooved, stereotyped mode of expression- and no,
or but a few, other communicational grooves, as yet- being <there>,
available for the patient's use, as newly-emerging emotions and
ideas well up in him over the course of months. But it is true that the
therapist can sense, when he hears this stereotype, that there are
at this moment many emotional determinants at work in it, a blurred babel
of indistinct voices which have yet to become clearly delineated from
one another. Sometimes it is not a verbal stereotype- a
"How are you now"? or an "I want to go home", or whatever-
but a nonverbal one which reveals itself, gradually, as the condensed
expression of more than one latent meaning. A hebephrenic man used
to give a repetitious wave of his hand a number of times during his
largely-silent
hours with his therapist. When the therapist came to feel
on sufficiently sure ground with him to ask him, "What is that,
Bill- hello or farewell"?, the patient replied, "Both, Dearie-
two in one". Of all the possible forms of nonverbal expression,
that which seems best to give release, and communicational expression,
to complex and undifferentiated feelings is laughter. It is
no coincidence that the hebephrenic patient, the most severely dedifferentiated
of all schizophrenic patients, shows, as one of his characteristic
symptoms, laughter- laughter which now makes one feel scorned
or hated, which now makes one feel like weeping, or which now gives
one a glimpse of the bleak and empty expanse of man's despair; and
which, more often than all these, conveys a <welter> of feelings which
could in no way be
conveyed by any number of words, words which are so
unlike this welter in being formed and discrete from one another. To
a much less full extent, the hebephrenic person's belching or flatus
has a comparable communicative function; in working with these patients
the therapist eventually gets to do some at least private mulling
over of the possible meaning of a belch, or the passage of flatus,
not only because he is reduced to this for lack of anything else to analyze,
but also because he learns that even these animal-like sounds constitute
forms of communication in which, from time to time, quite different
things are being said, long before the patient can become sufficiently
aware of these, as distinct feelings and concepts, to say them
in words. As I have been intimating, in the schizophrenic-
and perhaps also in the dreams of the neurotic; this is a question
which I have no wish to take up- condensation is a phenomenon in which
one finds not a condensed expression of various feelings and ideas
which are, at an unconscious level, well sorted out, but rather a condensed
expression of feelings and ideas which, even in the unconscious,
have yet to become well differentiated from one another. Freeman,
Cameron and McGhie, in their description of the disturbances of thinking
found in chronic schizophrenic patients, say, in regard to condensation,
that "**h the lack of adequate discrimination between the
self and the environment, and the objects contained therein **h in itself
is the prototypical condensation". In my experience, a
great many of the patient's more puzzling verbal communications are
so for the reason that concrete meanings have not become differentiated
from figurative meanings in his subjective experience. Thus he may
be referring to some concrete thing, or incident, in his immediate environment
by some symbolic-sounding, hyperbolic reference to transcendental
events on the global scene. Recently, for example, a paranoid woman's
large-scale philosophizing, in the session, about the intrusive
curiosity which has become, in her opinion, a deplorable characteristic
of mid-twentieth-century human culture, developed itself, before the
end of the session, into a suspicion that I was surreptitiously peeking
at her partially exposed breast, as indeed I was. Or, equally
often, a concretistic-seeming, particularistic-seeming statement may consist,
with its mundane exterior, in a form of poetry- may be full
of meaning and emotion when interpreted as a figurative expression:
a metaphor, a smile, an allegory, or some other symbolic mode of speaking.

Of such hidden meanings the patient himself is, more often

than not, entirely unaware. His subjective experience may be a remarkably
concretistic one. One hebephrenic women confided to me, "I
live in a world of words", as if, to her, words were fully concrete
objects; Burnham, in his excellent article (1955) concerning schizophrenic
communication, includes mention of similar clinical material.
A borderline schizophrenic young man told me that to him the various
theoretical concepts about which he had been expounding, in a most articulate
fashion, during session after session with me, were like great
cubes of almost tangibly solid matter up in the air above him; as he
spoke I was reminded of the great bales of cargo which are swung, high
in the air, from a docked steamship.

The many linguistic techniques for reducing the amount of dictionary

information that have been proposed all organize the dictionary's
contents around prefixes, stems, suffixes, etc&. A significant
reduction
in the voume of store information is thus realized, especially
for a highly inflected language such as Russian. For English the reduction
in size is less striking. This approach requires that: (1)
each text word be separated into smaller elements to establish a correspondence
between the occurrence and dictionary entries, and (2) the information
retrieved from several entries in the dictionary be synthesized
into a description of the particular word. The logical scheme used
to accomplish the former influences the placement of information in
the dictionary file. Implementation of the latter requires storage of
information needed only for synthesis. We suggest the application
of certain data-processing techniques as a solution to the problem.
But first, we must define two terms so that their meaning will be
clearly understood: _1._ <form>- any unique sequence of alphabetic
characters that can appear in a language preceded and followed
by a space. _2._ <occurrence>- an instance of a form in text.

We propose a method for selecting only dictionary information

required by the text being translated and a means for passing the information
directly to the occurrences in text. We accomplish this by compiling
a list of text forms as text is read by the computer. A random-storage
scheme, based on the spelling of forms, provides an economical
way to compile this text-form list. Dictionary forms found to match
forms in the text list are marked. A location in the computer store
is also named for each marked form; dictionary information about the
form stored at this location can be retrieved directly by occurrences
of the form in text. Finally, information is retrieved from the dictionary
as required by stages of the translation process- the grammatic
description for sentence-structure determination, equivalent-choice
information for semantic analysis, and target-language equivalents
for output construction. The dictionary is a form dictionary,
at least in the sense that complete forms are used as the basis for matching
text occurrences with dictionary entries. Also, the dictionary
is divided into at least two parts: the list of dictionary forms and
the file of information that pertains to these forms. A more detailed
description of dictionary operations- text lookup and dictionary
modification- give a clearer picture. Text lookup, as we will
describe it, consists of three steps. The first is compiling a list
of text forms, assigning an information cell to each, and replacing text
occurrences with the information cell assigned to the form of each
occurrence. For this step the computer memory is separated into three
regions: cells in the ~W-region are used for storage of the forms
in the text-form list; cells in the ~X-region and ~Y region
are reserved as information cells for text forms. When an occurrence
**f is isolated during text reading, a random memory address **f,
the address of a cell in the ~X-region, is computed from the form
of **f. Let **f denote the form of **f. If cell **f has not previously
been assigned as the information cell of a form in the text-form
list, it is now assigned as the information cell of **f. The form itself
is stored in the next available cells of the ~W-region, beginning
in cell **f. The address **f and the number of cells required to
store the form are written in **f; the information cell **f is saved
to represent the text occurrence. Text reading continues with the next
occurrence. Let us assume that **f is identical to the form
of an occurrence **f which preceded **f in the text. When this situation
exists, the address **f will equal **f which was produced from **f.
If **f was assigned as the information cell for **f, the routine can
detect that **f is identical to **f by comparing **f with the form
stored at location **f. The address **f is stored in the cell **f. When,
as in this case, the two forms match, the address **f is saved to
represent the occurrence **f. Text reading continues with the next
occurrence.

A third situation is possible. The formula for computing

random addresses from the form of each occurrence will not give a
distinct address for each distinct form. Thus, when more than one distinct
form leads to a particular cell in the ~X-region, a chain of
information cells must be created to accommodate the forms, one cell
in the chain for each form. If **f leads to an address **f that is equal
to the address computed from **f, even though **f does not match **f,
the chain of information cells is extended from **f by storing the
address of the next available cell in the ~Y-region, **f, in **f.
The
cell **f becomes the second information cell in the chain and is assigned
as the information cell of **f. A third cell can be added by storing
the address of another ~Y-cell in **f; similarly, as many cells
are added as are required. Each information cell in the chain contains
the address of the ~Y-cell where the form to which it is assigned
is stored. Each cell except the last in the chain also contains
the address of the ~Y-cell that is the next element of the chain;
the absence of such a link in the last cell indicates the end of the
chain. Hence, when the address **f is computed from **f, the cell **f
and
all ~Y-cells in its chain must be inspected to determine whether
**f is already in the form list or whether it should be added to the form
list and the chain. When the information cell for **f has been determined,
it is saved as a representation of **f. Text reading continues
with the next occurrence. Text reading is terminated when
a pre-determined number of forms have been stored in the text-form list.
This initiates the second step of glossary lookup- connecting the
information cell of forms in the text-form list to dictionary forms.
Each form represented by the dictionary is looked up in the text-form
list. Each time a dictionary form matches a text form, the information
cell of the matching text form is saved. The number of dictionary
forms skipped since the last one matched is also saved. These two pieces
of information for each dictionary form that is matched by a text
form constitute the table of dictionary usage. If each text form is
marked when matched with a dictionary form, the text forms not contained
in the dictionary can be identified when all dictionary forms have
been read. The appropriate action for handling these forms can be taken
at that time. Each dictionary form is looked up in the text-form
list by the same method used to look up a new text occurrence in
the form list during text reading. A random address **f that lies within
the ~X-region of memory mentioned earlier is computed from the
~i-th dictionary form. If cell **f is an information cell, it and
any information cells in the ~Y-region that have been linked to **f
each contain an address in the ~W-region where a potentially matching
form is stored. The dictionary form is compared with each of these
text forms. When a match is found, an entry is made in the table of
dictionary usage. If cell **f is not an information cell we conclude
that the ~i-th dictionary form is not in the text list. These
two steps essentially complete the lookup operation. The final step
merely uses the table of dictionary usage to select the dictionary information
that pertains to each form matched in the text-form list, and
uses the list of information cells recorded in text order to attach
the appropriate information to each occurrence in text. The list of
text forms in the ~W-region of memory and the contents of the information
cells in the ~X and ~Y-regions are no longer required. Only
the assignment of the information cells is important. The
first stage of translation after glossary lookup is structural analysis
of the input text. The grammatical description of each occurrence in
the text must be retrieved from the dictionary to permit such an analysis.
A description of this process will serve to illustrate how any
type of information can be retrieved from the dictionary and attached
to each text occurrence. The grammatic descriptions of all forms
in the dictionary are recorded in a separate part of the dictionary
file. The order is identical to the ordering of the forms they describe.
When entries are being retrieved from this file, the table of dictionary
usage indicates which entries to skip and which entries to store
in the computer. This selection-rejection process takes place as the
file is read. Each entry that is selected for storage is written into
the next available cells of the ~W-region. The address of the
first cell and the number of cells used is written in the information
cell for the form. (The address of the information cell is also supplied
by the table of dictionary usage.) When the complete file has been
read, the grammatic descriptions for all text forms found in the dictionary
have been stored in the ~W-region; the information cell assigned
to each text form contains the address of the grammatic description
of the form it represents. Hence, the description of each text
occurrence can be retrieved by reading the list of text-ordered information-cell
addresses and outputting the description indicated by the information
cell for each occurrence. The only requirements on
dictionary information made by the text-lookup operation are that each
form represented by the dictionary be available for lookup in the text-form
list and that information for each form be available in a sequence
identical with the sequence of the forms. This leaves the ordering
of entries variable. (Here an entry is a form plus the information
that pertains to it.) Two very useful ways for modifying a form-dictionary
are the addition to the dictionary of complete paradigms
rather than single forms and the application of a single change to more
than one dictionary form. The former is intended to decrease the amount
of work necessary to extend dictionary coverage. The latter is useful
for modifying information about some or all forms of a word, hence
reducing the work required to improve dictionary contents. Applying
the techniques developed at Harvard for generating a paradigm from
a representative form and its classification, we can add all forms of
a word to the dictionary at once. An extension of the principle would
permit entering a grammatic description of each form. Equivalents could
be assigned to the paradigm either at the time it is added to the
dictionary or after the word has been studied in context. Thus, one can
think of a dictionary entry as a word rather than a form. If
all forms of a paradigm are grouped together within the dictionary,
a considerable reduction in the amount of information required is possible.
For example, the inflected forms of a word can be represented,
insofar as regular inflection allows, by a stem and a set of endings to
be attached. (Indeed, the set of endings can be replaced by the <name>
of a set of endings.) The full forms can be derived from such information
just prior to the lookup of the form in the text-form list.
Similarly, if the equivalents for the forms of a word do not vary, the
equivalents need be entered only once with an indication that they
apply
to each form. The dictionary system is in no way dependent upon
such summarization or designed around it. When irregularity and variation
prevent summarizing, information is written in complete detail. Entries
are summarized only when by doing so the amount of information
retained in the dictionary is reduced and the time required for dictionary
operations is decreased.
In sentences, patterns of stress are determined by complex combinations
of influences that can only be suggested here. The tendency is toward
putting dominant stress at the end. There is a parallel to this tendency
in the assignment of time in long-known hymn tunes. Thus the
first lines of one of Charles Wesley's hymns are as follows.
"A charge to keep I have, A God to glorify". In the
tune to which this hymn is most often sung, "Boylston", the syllables
<have> and <fy>, ending their lines, have twice the time any
other syllables have. Dominant stress is of course more than extended
duration, and normally centers on syllables that would have primary stress
or phrase stress if the words or longer units they are parts of
were spoken alone: a dominant stress given to <glorify> would normally
center on its first syllable rather than its last. But the parallel
is significant. When the answer to <what's wrong now?> is <Bill's
broken a chair>, dominant stress will usually be on the complement
<a chair>. From the point of view of syntactic analysis the
head word in the statement is the predicator <has broken>, and from
the point of view of meaning it would seem that the trouble centers
in the breaking; but dominant stress will be assigned to <broken>
only in rather exceptional versions of the sentence. In <I know one
thing> dominant stress will usually be on the complement <one thing>;
in <one thing I know> it will usually be on the predicator <know>.
In <small-town people are very friendly> dominant stress will
generally be on the complement <very friendly>; in the double sentence
<the smaller the town, the friendlier the people> it will generally
be on the subjects <the town> and <the people>. In <what's
a linguist?> dominant stress will generally be on the subject
<a linguist>; in <who's a linguist?> it will generally be on
the complement <a linguist>. Dominant stress is on <her luggage>
both in <that's her luggage>, where <her luggage> is the complement,
and in <there's her luggage>, where it is the subject. Adverbial
second complements, however, are likely not to have dominant stress
when they terminate sentences. If the answer to <what was that noise?>
is <George put the cat out>, dominant stress will ordinarily
be on the first complement, <the cat>, not the second complement
<out>. Final adjuncts may or may not have dominant stress. If the
answer to <what was that noise?> is <George reads the news emotionally>,
dominant stress may or may not be on the adjunct <emotionally>.
When prepositional complements are divided as in <what are you
looking for?> they are likely to lose dominant stress. Context
is of extreme importance. What is new in the context is likely
to be made more prominent than what is not. Thus in a context in which
there has been discussion of snow but mention of local conditions is
new, dominant stress will probably be on <here> in <it rarely snows
here>, but in a context in which there has been discussion of local
weather but no mention of snow, dominant stress will probably be on <snows>.
The personal pronouns and substitute <one> are normally unstressed
because they refer to what is prominent in the immediate context.
In <I'll go with George> dominant stress is probably on <George>;
but if George has just been mentioned prominently (and
the trip to be made has been under discussion), what is said is probably
<I'll go with him>, and dominant stress is probably on the preposition
<with>. When a gesture accompanies <who's he?> the personal
pronoun has dominant stress because "he" has not been mentioned
previously. If both George and a piece of information George
does not have are prominent in the context, but the idea of telling George
is new, then dominant stress will probably be on <tell> in <why
not tell George?> But when what is new in a particular context
is also fairly obvious, there is normally only light stress or no stress
at all. Thus the unstressed <it> of <it rarely snows here> gets
its significance from its use with <snows>: nothing can snow snow
but "it". In <there aren't many young people in the neighborhood>
the modifier <young> takes dominant stress away from its head
<people>: the fact that the young creatures of interest are people
seems rather obvious. If <women> replaced <people>, it would normally
have dominant stress. In <I have things to do> the word <things>
makes little real contribution to meaning and has weaker stress
than <do>. If <work> is substituted for <things> (with more
exact contribution to meaning), it will have dominant stress. In <I
know one thing> dominant stress is likely to go to <one> rather than
to semantically pale <thing>. In <I knew you when you were a child,
and you were pretty then> dominant stress on <then> implies that
the young woman spoken to is still pretty. Dominant stress on <pretty>
would be almost insulting here. In the written language <then>
can be underlined or italicized to guide the reader here, but much
of the time the written language simply depends on the reader's alertness,
and a careless reader will have to back up and reread.
Often dominant stress simply indicates a centering of attention or emotion.
Thus in <it's incredible what that boy can eat> dominant stress
is likely to be on <incredible>, and <eat> will have strong
stress also. In <she has it in for George> dominant stress will ordinarily
be on <in>, where the notion of stored-up antipathy seems to
center. In <we're painting at our garage> strong stress on <at>
indicates that the job being done is not real painting but simply an
effort at painting. Where there is comparison or contrast dominant
stresses normally operate to center attention. Thus in <his friends
are stranger than his sisters'> strong stresses are normal for <his>
and <sisters'>, but in <his friends are stranger than his sisters>
strong stresses are normal for <friends> and <sisters>. In
<he's hurting himself more than he's hurting you> both <himself>
and <you> have stronger stress than they would ordinarily have if
there were no contrast. In <is she Chinese or Japanese?> the
desire to contrast the first parts of words which are alike in their last
components produces an exceptional disregard of the normal patterns
of stress of <Chinese> and <Japanese>. Sometimes strong stress
serves to focus an important secondary relationship. Thus in <Mary
wrote an account of the trip first> strong stress on <Mary> marks
Mary as the first in a series of people who wrote accounts of the trip,
strong stress on <wrote> marks the writing as the first of a series
of actions of Mary's concerned with an account of her trip (about
which she may later have made speeches, for example), and strong stress
on <trip> makes the trip the first of a series of subjects about
which Mary wrote accounts. In <hunger stimulates man too> the situation
is very similar. Strong stress on <hunger> treats hunger as
an additional stimulus, strong stress on <stimulates> treats stimulation
as an additional effect of hunger, strong stress on <man> treats
man as an additional creature who responds to the stimulation of hunger.
Here again, in the written language it is possible to help the
reader get his stresses right by using underlining or italics, but much
of the time there is simply reliance on his understanding in the light
of context. When a word represents a larger construction of
which it is the only expressed part, it normally has more stress than
it would have in fully expressed construction. Thus when <yes, I
have> is the response to <have you finished reading the paper?>
the stress on <have>, which here represents <have finished reading
the paper>, is quite strong. In <Mack's the leader at camp, but
Jack is here> the <is> of the second main declarative represents
<is the leader> and therefore has stress. <Mack's the leader at
camp, but Jack's here>, with this <is> deprived of stress, makes
<here> the complement in the clause. In <of all the suggestions that
were made, his was the silliest> the possessive <his> represents
<his suggestion> and is stressed. When <go> represents itself and
a complement (being equivalent, say, to <go to Martinique>) in <which
boat did Jack go on?> it has strong stress; when it represents
only itself and <on which> is its complement (so that <go on>
is semantically equivalent to <board>), <on> has stronger stress
than <go> does. Omission of a subordinator pronoun, however, does
not result in an increase in stress on a prepositional adverb for which
the subordinator pronoun would be object. Thus <to> has light stress
both in <that was the conclusion that I came to> and in <that
was the conclusion I came to>. But when <to> represents <to consciousness>
in <that was the moment that I came to>, and similarly
in <that was the moment I came to>, there is much stronger stress
on <to>. In <I wanted to tell him, but I was afraid to> the final
<to> is lightly stressed because it represents <to tell him>. In
<to tell him>, of course, <to> is normally unstressed. When <I
have instructions to leave> is equivalent in meaning to <I
have instructions that I am to leave this place>, dominant stress
is ordinarily on <leave>. When the same sequence is equivalent in
meaning to <I have instructions which I am to leave>, dominant stress
is ordinarily on <instructions>. It is clear that patterns
of stress sometimes
show construction unambiguously in the spoken language where
without the help of context it would be ambiguous in the written.
Other examples follow. "I'll come by Tuesday. I
can't be happy long without drinking water". In the first of these
sentences if <by> is the complement of <come> and <Tuesday> is
an adjunct of time equivalent to <on Tuesday>, there will be strong
stress on <by> in the spoken language; but if a complement for
<come> is implied and <by Tuesday> is a prepositional unit used as
an adjunct, <by> will be unstressed or lightly stressed at most. In
the second sentence if <drinking water> is a gerundial clause and
<without drinking water> is roughly equivalent in meaning to <unless
I drink water>, there will be stronger stress on <water> than on
<drinking>; but if <drinking> is a gerundial noun modifying <water>
and <without drinking water> is equivalent to <without water
for drinking>, there will be stronger stress on <drinking> than on
<water>. But the use of stress in comparison and contrast, for example,
can undermine distinctions such as these. And patterns of stress
are not always unambiguous by any means. In <the Steiners have
busy
lives without visiting relatives> only context can indicate whether <visiting
relatives> is equivalent in meaning to <paying visits to relatives>
or to <relatives who are visiting them>, and in <I looked
up the number> and <I looked up the chimney> only the meanings
of <number> and <chimney> make it clear that <up> is syntactically
a second complement in the first sentence and a preposition followed
by its object in the second.

#SYLLABIFICATION.#- Syllables are

linguistic units centering in peaks which are usually vocalic but, as
has been noted, are consonantal under certain circumstances, and which
may or may not be combined with preceding and/or following consonants
or combinations of consonants. Syllables are genuine units, but division
of words and sentences into them presents great difficulties. Sometimes
even the number of syllables is not clear. Doubt on this point
is strongest before /l/ and /@/ or /r/. From the point of view
of
word formation <real> might be expected to have two syllables. Historically
~<re> is the formative that is employed also in <republic>,
and ~<al> is the common suffix. When ~<ity> is added,
<real> clearly has two syllables. But there is every reason to regard
<deal> as a monosyllable, and because of the fact that /l/ commonly
has the quality of /@/ when it follows vowel sounds, <deal> seems
to be a perfectly satisfactory rhyme with <real>.

It is obvious enough that linguists in general have been less

successful in coping with tone systems than with consonants or vowels.
No single explanation is adequate to account for this. Improvement,
however, is urgent, and at least three things will be needed.
The first is a wide-ranging sample of successful tonal analyses. Even
beginning students in linguistics are made familiar with an appreciable
variety of consonant systems, both in their general outlines and in
many specific details. An advanced student has read a considerable
number of descriptions of consonantal systems, including some of the more
unusual types. By contrast, even experienced linguists commonly know
no more of the range of possibilities in tone systems than the over-simple
distinction between register and contour languages. This limited
familiarity with the possible phenomena has severely hampered work
with tone. Tone analysis will continue to be difficult and unsatisfactory
until a more representative selection of systems is familar to
every practicing field linguist. Papers like these four, if widely read,
will contribute importantly to improvement of our analytic work.

The second need is better field techniques. The great majority

of present-day linguists fall into one or more of a number of overlapping
types: those who are convinced that tone cannot be analysed, those who
are personally scared of tone and tone languages generally, those who
are convinced that tone is merely an unnecessary marginal feature in
those languages where it occurs, those who have no idea how to proceed
with tone analysis, those who take a simplistic view of the whole
matter. The result has been neglect, fumbling efforts, or superficial
treatment. As these maladies overlap, so must the cure. Analyses such
as these four will simultaneously combat the assumptions that tone
is impossible and that it is simple. They will give suggestions that
can be worked up into field procedures. Good field techniques will not
only equip linguists for better work, but also help them overcome negative
attitudes. Actually, none of these papers says much directly about
field techniques. But it is worth pondering that very little has
been published on any phase of field techniques in linguistics. These
things have been disseminated by other means, but always in the wake
of extensive publication of analytic results. The third need
is for better theory. We should expect that general phonologic theory
should be as adequate for tone as for consonants and vowels, but it has
not been. This can only be for one of two reasons: either the two
are quite different and will require totally different theory (and hence
techniques), or our existing theories are insufficiently general.
If, as I suspect, the problem is largely of the second sort, then development
of a theory better able to handle tone will result automatically
in better theory for all phonologic subsystems. One issue
that must be faced is the relative difficulty of analysis of different
phonologic subsystems. Since tone systems typically comprise fewer
units than either consonant or vowel systems, we might expect that they
would be the easiest part of a phonologic analysis. Actual practice
does not often work out this way. Tone systems are certainly more complex
than the number of units would suggest, and often analytically
more difficult than much larger consonantal systems. Welmers has
suggested one explanation. Tone languages use for linguistic contrasts
speech parameters which also function heavily in nonlinguistic use.
This may both divert the attention of the uninitiate and cause confusion
for the more knowledgeable. The problem is to disentangle the
linguistic features of pitch from the co-occurring nonlinguistic
features.
Of course, something of the same sort occurs with other sectors of
the phonology: consonantal articulations have both a linguistic and
an individual component. But in general the individual variation is
a small thing added onto basic linguistic features of greater magnitude.
With tone, individual differences may be greater than the linguistic
contrasts which are superimposed on them. Pitch differences from
one speaker to another, or from one emotional state to another, may far
exceed the small differences between tones. However, any such suggestion
accounts for only some of the difficulties in hearing tone, or in
developing a realistic attitude about tone, but not for the analytic
difficulties that occur even when tone is meticulously recorded.

A second explanation is suggested by the material described in Rowlands'

paper. Tone and intonation often become seriously intermeshed.
Neither can be adequately systematized until we are able to separate
the two and assign the observed phenomena individually to one or the
other. Other pairs of phonologic subsystems also interact or overlap
in this way; for example, duration sometimes figures in both the
vowel system and the intonation. Some phonetic features, for example
glottal catch or murmur, are sometimes to be assigned to segmental phonemics
and sometimes to accentual systems. But no other two phonologic
systems are as difficult to disentangle as are tone and intonation in
some languages. This explanation of tone difficulties, however, does
not apply in all languages. In some (the Ewe type mentioned above)
interaction of tone and intonation is restricted to the ends of intonation
spans. In many of the syllables, intonation can be safely ignored,
and much of the tonal analysis can be done without any study of intonation.
Still, even in such languages tone analysis has not been as
simple as one might expect. A third explanation is suggested
by Richardson's analysis of Sukuma tone. There we see a basically
simple phonemic system enmeshed in a very complex and puzzling morphophonemic
system. While the phonemes can be very easily stated, no one
is likely to be satisfied with the statement until phonemic occurrences
can be related in some way to morphemic units, i&e& until the morphophonemics
is worked out, or at least far enough that it seems reasonable
to expect success. In the "typical tone language",
tonal morphophonemics is of the same order of complexity as consonantal
morphophonemics. The phonemic systems which must support these morphophonemic
systems, however, are very different. The inventory of tones
is much smaller, and commonly the contrasts range along one single
dimension, pitch level. Consonantal systems are not merely larger, they
are multidimensional. Morphophonemic rules may be thought of as joining
certain points in the system. The possibilities in the consonantal
system are very numerous, and only a small portion of them are actually
used. Phonemes connected by a morphophonemic rule commonly show
a good bit of phonetic similarity, possible because of the several dimensions
of contrast in the system. Tonal morphophonemics, in a common
case, can do nothing but either raise or lower the tone. The possibilities
are few, and the total number of rules may be considerably greater.
Often, therefore, there are a number of rules having the same
effect, and commonly other sets of rules as well, having the opposite
effect. Tonal morphophonemics is much more confusing to the beginning
analyst than consonantal morphophonemics, even when the total number
of rules is no greater. The difficulty of analysis of any subsystem
in the phonology is an inverse function of the size- smaller systems
are more troublesome- for any given degree of morphophonemic
complexity. This hypothesis will account for a large part of the difficulties
of tonal analysis, as well as the fact that vowel systems are
often more puzzling than consonantal systems. The statement of the system
is a different matter. Smaller systems can of course be stated
much more succinctly. A phonemic system can be stated without reference
to morphophonemics, but it cannot always be found without morphophonemics.
And the more complex the morphophonemic system is in relation
to the phonemic base, the less easily a phonemic system will be analysed
without close attention to the morphophonemics- at least, the less
satisfying will a phonemic statement be if it cannot be related through
morphophonemic rules to grammatically meaningful structures.

The design of orthographies has received much less attention from

linguists than the problem deserves. There has been a tendency on the
part of many American linguists to assume that a phonemic transcription
will automatically be the best possible orthography and that the only
real problem will then be the social one of securing acceptance. This
seems naive. Most others have been content to give only the most
general attention to the broadest and most obvious features of the phonology
when designing orthographies. Apparently the feeling is that
anything more would be involvement in technical abstrusenesses of possible
pedantic interest but of no visible significance in practical affairs.
The result of this attitude has been the domination of many orthography
conferences by such considerations as typographic 'esthetics',
which usually turns out to be nothing more than certain prejudices
carried over from European languages. Many of the suggested systems
seem to have only the most tenuous relationship to the language structures
that they purport to represent. Linguists have not always been
more enlightened than "practical people" and sometimes have insisted
on incredibly trivial points while neglecting things of much greater
significance. As a result, many people have been confirmed in their
conviction that orthography design is not an activity to which experts
can contribute anything but confusion. A& E& Sharp,
in Vowel-Length and Syllabicity in Kikuyu, examines one set of related
orthographic questions and its phonologic background in detail. His
objective is merely to determine "what distinctions of length and
syllabicity it may be desirable to make explicit in a Kikuyu orthography"
(59). To do so, he finds it necessary to examine the relevant
parts of the phonology thoroughly and in detail. In the process, he
develops some very significant observations about problems of a sort
that are often difficult. A few of his examples are of very great interest,
and the whole discussion of some importance for theory. His orthographic
recommendations are no simplistic acceptance of phonemics on
the one hand or of superficiality on the other. Rather he weighs each
phonologic fact in the light of its orthographic usefulness. He concludes
that some changes can made in the current orthography which will
appreciably improve its usefulness, but hesitates to suggest precise
graphic devices to effect these changes. I hope his suggestions are
given the consideration they deserve in Kikuyu circles. This, however,
will not exhaust their practical usefulness, as they rather clearly
indicate what thorough phonologic investigation can contribute to orthography
design. We need many more studies of this sort if the design
of written languages is to be put on a sound basis. One other
paper deals with a phonologic problem: Vowel Harmony in Igbo, by
J& Carnochan. This restates the already widely known facts in terms
of prosodies. As a restatement it makes only a small contribution
to knowledge of Igbo. But it would seem more intended as a tract advocating
the prosodic theory than a paper directed to the specific problems
of Igbo phonology. The paper has a certain value as a comparatively
easy introduction to this approach, particularly since it treats
a fairly simple and straightforward phenomenon where it is possible
to compare it with a more traditional (though not structural) statement.
It does show one feature of the system that has not been previously
described. But it does not, as it claims, demonstrate that this could
not be treated by traditional methods. It seems to me that it rather
easily can. Five of the papers deal with grammatical problems.
On the whole they maintain much the same high standard, but they
are much more difficult to discuss in detail because of their wider
variety of subject matter. My comments must be briefer than the papers
deserve. W& H& Whiteley writes on The Verbal Radical
in Iraqw. This must be considered primarily an amendment and supplement
to his early A short Description of Item-Categories in Iraqw.
It exhibits much the same descriptive technique and is open to much
the same criticisms. The treatment seems unnecessarily loose-jointed
and complex, largely because the method is lax and the analysis seems
never to be pushed to a satisfactory or even a consistent stopping-point.
There are more stems per item in Athabascan, which expresses the fact
that the Athabascan languages have undergone somewhat more change in
diverging from proto-Athabascan than the Yokuts languages from proto-Yokuts.
This may be because the Athabascan divergence began earlier;
or again because the Athabascan languages spread over a very much
larger territory (including three wholly separated areas); or both.
The differentiation however is not very much greater, as shown by
the fact that Athabascan shows 3.46 stems per meaning slot as against
2.75 for Yokuts, with a slightly greater number of languages represented
in our sample: 24 as against 21. (On deduction of one-eighth from
3.46, the stem/item rate becomes 3.03 against 2.75 in equivalent number
of languages.) These general facts are mentioned to make clear
that the total situation in the two families is similar enough to warrant
comparison. The greatest difference in the two sets of figures
is due to differences in the two sets of lists used. These differences
in turn result from the fact that my Yokuts vocabularies were
built up of terms selected mainly to insure unambiguity of English meaning
between illiterate informants and myself, within a compact and uniform
territorial area, but that Hoijer's vocabulary is based on Swadesh's
second glottochronological list which aims at eliminating
all items which might be culturally or geographically determined. Swadesh
in short was trying to develop a basic list that was universal;
I, one that was specifically adapted to the San Joaquin Valley. The
result is that I included 70 animal names, but Swadesh only 4;
and somewhat similarly for plants, 16 as against 4. Swadesh, and therefore
Hoijer, felt compelled to omit all terms denoting species or even
genera (<fox, vulture, salmon, yellow pine, manzanita>); their
classes of animal and plant terms are restricted to generalizations or
recurrent parts (<fish, bird, tree, grass, horn, tail, bark, root>).
The groups are therefore really non-comparable in content as well as
in size. Other classes are included only by myself (interrogatives,
adverbs) or only by Swadesh and Hoijer (pronouns, demonstratives).

What we have left as reasonably comparable are four classes:

(1) body parts and products, which with a proportionally nearly
even representation (51 terms out of 253, 25 out of 100) come out with
nearly even ratios; 2.6 and 2.7; (2) Nature (29 terms against
17), ratios 3.3 versus 4.1; (3) adjectives (16, 15 terms), ratios 3.9
versus 4.7; (4) verbs (9, 22 terms), ratios 4.0 versus 3.4.
It will be seen that where the scope is similar, the Athabascan ratios
come out somewhat higher (as indeed they ought to with a total ratio
of 2.8 as against 3.5 or 4:5) except for verbs, where alone the Athabascan
ratio is lower. This exception may be connected with Hoijer's
use of a much higher percentage of verbs: 22% of his total
list as against 3.5% in mine. Or the exception may be due to a particular
durability peculiar to the Athabascan verb. More word class ratios
determined in more languages will no doubt ultimately answer the
question.

#5.#

If word classes differ in their resistance or liability

to stem replacement within meaning slot, it is conceivable that
individual meanings also differ with fair consistence trans-lingually.
Hoijer's Athabascan and my Yokuts share 71 identical meanings (with
allowance for several near-synonyms like <stomach-belly, big-large,
long-far, many-much, die-dead, say-speak>). For Yokuts,
I tabulated these 71 items in five columns, according as they were expressed
by 1, 2, 3, 4, and more than 4 stems. The totals for these
five categories are not too uneven, namely 20, 15, 11, 16, 9 respectively.
For Athabascan, with a greater range of stems, the first two
of five corresponding columns were identical, 1 and 2 stems; the three
others had to be spread somewhat, and are headed respectively **f;
**f; and **f stems. While the particular limits of these groupings
may
seem artificially arbitrary; they do fairly express a corresponding
grouping of more variable material, and they eventuate also in five
classes, along a similar scale, containing approximately equal numbers
of cases, namely 19, 14, 15, 11, 12 in Athabascan. When now
we count the frequency of the 71 items in the two language families appearing
in the same column or grade, or one column or grade apart, or
two or three or four, we find these differences: **f This distribution
can be summarized by averaging the distance in grades apart:
**f; which, divided by **f gives a mean of 1.07 grades apart. If
the distribution of the 71 items were wholly concordant in the two families,
the distance would of course be 0. If it were wholly random
and unrelated, it would be 2.0, assuming the five classes were equal in
~<n>, which approximately they are. The actual mean of 1.07 being
about halfway between 0 of complete correlation and 2.0 of no correlation,
it is evident that there is a pretty fair degree of similarity
in the behavior even of particular INDIVIDUAL items of meaning
as regards long-term stem displacement.
#6.#

In 1960, David D&

Thomas published Basic Vocabulary in some Mon-Khmer Languages
~AL 2, no& 3, pp& 7-11), which compares 8 Mon-Khmer languages
with the ~I-E language data on which Swadesh based the revised
retention
rate (**f) in place of original (**f), and his revised 100 word
basic
glottochronological list in Towards Greater Accuracy **h (~IJAL
21:121-137). Thomas' findings are, first, "that the individual
items vary greatly and unpredictably in their persistence";
but, second, "that the semantic groups are surprisingly unvarying
in their average persistence" (as between ~M-K and ~I-E. His
first conclusion, on behavior of individual items, is negative, whereas
mine (on Ath& and Yok&) was partially positive. His second
conclusion,
on semantic word classes, agrees with mine. This second conclusion,
independently arrived at by independent study of material from two
pairs of language families as different and remote from one another
as these four are, cannot be ignored. Thomas also presents a
simple equation for deriving an index of persistence, which weights not
only the number of stems ('roots') per meaning, but their relative
frequency. Thus his persistence values for some stem frequencies per
meaning is: stem identical in 8 languages, 100%; stem frequencies
7 and 1, 86%; stem frequencies 4 and 4, 64%; stem frequencies
4, 3, and 1, 57%. His formula will have to be weighed, may be
altered or improved, and it should be tested on additional bodies of
material. But consideration of the frequency of stems per constant meaning
seems to be established as having significance in comparative situations
with diachronic and classificatory relevance; and Gleason
presumably is on the way with a further contribution in this area.

As to relative frequencies of competing roots (7-1 vs& 4-4, etc&),

Thomas with his 'weighting' seems to be the first to have considered
the significance this might have. The problem needs further
exploration. I was at least conscious of the distinction in my full
Yokuts presentation that awaits publication, in which, in listing 'Two-Stem
Meanings', I set off by asterisks those forms in which
~<n> of stem ~B was **f of stem ~A/3, the unasterisked ones
standing for **f; or under 'Four Stems', I set off by asterisks
cases where the combined ~<n> of stems **f was **f.

#7.#

These
findings, and others which will in time be developed, will affect
the method of glottochronological inquiry. If adjectival meanings show
relatively low retentiveness of stems, as I am confident will prove
to be the case in most languages of the world, why should our basic
lists include 15 per cent of these unstable forms, but only 8 per cent
of animals and plants which replace much more slowly? Had Hoijer
substituted for his 15 adjectival slots 15 good animal and plant items,
his rate of stem replacement would have been lower and the age of Athabascan
language separation smaller. And irrespective of the outcome
in centuries elapsed since splitting, calculations obviously carry more
concordant and comparable meaning if they deal with the most stable
units
than with variously unstable ones. It is evident that Swadesh
has not only had much experience with basic vocabulary in many languages
but has acquired great tact and feeling for the expectable behavior
of lexical items. Why then this urge to include unstable items
in his basic list? It is the urge to obtain a list as free of geographical
and cultural conditioning as possible. And why that insistence?
It is the hope of attaining a list of items of UNIVERSAL occurrence.
But it is becoming increasingly evident that such a hope is
a snare. Not that such a list cannot be constructed; but the nearer
it comes to attaining universality, the less significant will it be
linguistically. Its terms will tend to be labile or vague, and they
will fit actual languages more and more badly. The practical operational
problem of lexicostatistics is the establishment of a basic
list of items of meaning against which the particular forms or terms
of languages can be matched as the medium of comparison. The most important
quality of the meanings is that they should be as definable as
possible. In proportion as meanings are concrete, we can better rely
on their being insulated and distinctive. An elephant or a fox or a swan
or a cocopalm or a banana possess in unusually high degree this quality
of obvious, common-sense, indubitable IDENTITY, as do an eye
or tooth or nail. They isolate out easily, naturally, and unambiguously
from the continuum of nature and existence; and they should be
given priority in the basic list as long as they continue to show these
qualities. With the universal list as his weapon, Swadesh
has
extended his march of conquest farther and farther into the past, eight,
ten, twelve millennia back. And he has proclaimed greater or less
affiliation between all Western hemisphere languages. Some of this
may prove to be true, or even considerable of it, whether by genetic
ramification or by diffusion and coalescence. But the farther out he
moves, the thinner will be his hold on conclusive evidence, and the larger
the speculative component in his inferences. He has traversed provinces
and kingdoms, but he has not consolidated them behind him, nor
does he control them. He has announced results on Hokan, Penutian,
Uto-Aztecan, and almost all other American families and phyla, and
has diagrammed their degree of interrelation; but he has not worked
out by lexicostatistics one comprehensively complete classification of
even a single family other than Salish. That is his privilege. The
remote, cloudy, possible has values of its own- values of scope,
stimulus, potential, and imagination. But there is also a firm aspect
to lexicostatistics: the aspect of learning the internal organization
of obvious natural genetic groups of languages as well as their more
remote and elusive external links; of classification first, with elapsed
age merely a by-product; of acquiring evidential knowledge of
what happened in Athabascan, in Yokuts, in Uto-Aztecan in the last
few thousand years as well as forecasting what more anciently may have
happened between them. This involves step-by-step progress, and such
will have to be the day-by-day work of lexicostatistics as a growing
body of scientific inquiry. If of the founders of glottochronology
Swadesh has escaped our steady plodding, and Lees has repudiated his
own share in the founding, that is no reason why we should swerve.

#8.#

There is no apparent reason why we should feel bound by Swadesh's

rules and procedure since his predilections and aims have grown
so vast. It seems time to consider a revision of operational procedures
for lexicostatistic studies on a more humble, solid, and limited basis.
I would propose, first, an abandonment of attempts at a
universal lexical list, as intrinsically unachievable, and operationally
inadequate in proportion as it is achieved. I would propose,
next, as the prime requirement for constitution of new basic lists,
items whose forms show as high an empirical retention rate as possible.
There would be no conceivable sense in going to the opposite extreme
of selecting items whose forms are the most unstable. An attempted
middle course might lead to devices like a 5000-word alphabetized dictionary
from which every fiftieth word was selected.

Doubtless it was inevitable that differences of opinion should

arise about the methods for applying these policies. It was nevertheless
almost incredible that four years after Yalta there should be a
complete split over Germany, with hot heads on both sides planning to
use the Germans against their former allies, and with Nazi-minded Germans
expecting to recover their power by fighting on one side or the
other.

#5. POLAND#

_FRONTIERS._ When the Yalta Conference

opened, the American policy of postponing all discussion of Russia's
western boundaries until the peace conference had broken down. Starting
in great force late in December, from a line stretching from
East Prussia to Budapest, the Red armies had swept two hundred miles
across Poland to the Oder, thirty miles from Berlin, and the Upper
Danube region was being rapidly overrun, while the Western Allies
had not yet occupied all of the left bank of the Rhine. The long
delay in opening the Second Front was now working to Russia's advantage.

The West was now glad to propose the 1919 Curzon Line,
which was substantially Russia's 1941 border, as the boundary between
Russia and Poland. When this proposal was made, Stalin spoke
with stronger emotion than at any other time during the Conference.
He stood up to emphasize his strong feeling on the subject. The bitter
memory of Russia's exclusion from the Paris Peace Conference
and of the West's effort to stamp out Bolshevism at its birth boiled
up within him. "You would drive us into shame", he declared.
The White Russians and the Ukrainians would say that Stalin and Molotov
were far less reliable defenders of Russia than Curzon and Clemenceau.

Yet after long and earnest discussion Stalin accepted

the Curzon Line and even agreed voluntarily that there should be
digressions from that line of five to eight kilometers in favor of Poland
in some regions. He did not mind the Line itself, which Churchill
declared in the House of Commons, on February 27, 1945, he had
always believed to be "just and right", but he did not want it called
by a hated name. The West had long since forgotten the events
of 1919, but it was not so easy for the Red leaders, who felt that they
had suffered great injustice in that period. In the Dunn-Atherton
memorandum of February 4, 1942, the State Department had expected
to be able to hold Russia in check by withholding agreement to
her 1941 boundaries. Now Stalin made it clear that he meant to move
Poland's western borders deep into Germany, back to the western
Neisse-Oder River lines, taking not only East Prussia and all of
Silesia but Pomerania and the tip of Brandenburg, back to and including
Stettin. From six to nine million additional Germans would be
evicted, though most would have fled, and Poland would receive far more
from Germany than the poor territories, including the great Pripet
Marshes, which she lost to Russia. Stalin declared that he preferred
to continue the war a little longer, "although it costs us blood",
in order to give Poland compensation in the West at the expense
of the Germans. By this time Churchill was not so cordial toward
moving Poland westward as he had been at Teheran, where he and
Eden had both heartily approved the idea. After "a prolonged study
of the Oder line on a map", at Teheran, Churchill "liked the
picture". He would tell the Poles, he said, that they had been "given
a fine place to live in, more than three hundred miles each way".
At Yalta he thought more about the six million Germans who would
have to leave, trying to find work in Germany, and Roosevelt objected
to the Western Neisse River being chosen in the south, instead
of the Eastern Neisse, both of which flow into the Oder. The
issue was left in abeyance, presumably for the peace conference. However,
there was no real question of the justice of creating a strong
Poland, both industrially and agriculturally, and one unplagued by large
minorities of Germans or Russians. The moving of millions of the
German master-race, from the very heart of Junkerdom, to make room
for the Polish Slavs whom they had enslaved and openly planned to exterminate
was a drastic operation, but there was little doubt that it
was historically justified. _GOVERNMENT._ Of more importance to
the West than Poland's boundaries was the character of her government.
At Yalta the West still believed that Eastern Europe could
be kept in its orbit, in spite of the onrushing Soviet armies. Though
little democracy had ever been practised in this region, and much of
it was still ruled by feudalistic means, it was taken for granted that
at least the forms of Western democracy would be established in this
area and Western capitalism preserved within it. Believing devoutly
as they did in Anglo-Saxon institutions, it was important to both
Roosevelt and Churchill that the Poles should have them. The
issue was acute because the exiled Polish Government in London, supported
in the main by Britain, was still competing with the new Lublin
Government formed behind the Red Army. More time was spent in
trying to marry these imcompatibles than over any subject discussed at
Yalta. The result was an agreement that the Lublin Government should
be "reorganized on a broader democratic basis with the inclusion
of democratic leaders from Poland itself and from the Poles abroad",
and pledged to hold "free and unfettered elections as soon as possible
on the basis of universal suffrage and secret ballot". All
"democratic and anti-Nazi parties" were to have the right to campaign.

Roosevelt acted as moderator of the long debate on this

issue. It was a matter of principle with Churchill, since Britain had
declared war in behalf of Poland. To Stalin it was a matter of
life and death. He made this completely clear. Speaking with "great
earnestness", he said: "For the Russian people, the question
of Poland is not only a question of honor but also a question of security.
Throughout history, Poland has been the corridor through which
the enemy has passed into Russia. Twice in the last thirty years our
enemies, the Germans, have passed through this corridor. It is in
Russia's interest that Poland should be strong and powerful, in a
position to shut the door of this corridor by her own force **h. It
is necessary that Poland should be free, independent in power. Therefore,
it is not only a question of honor but of life and death for the
Soviet state". In other words, the Soviet Union was determined
to create a Poland so strong as to be a powerful bulwark against
Germany and so closely tied to Russia that there would never be any
question of her serving as a <cordon sanitaire> against the Soviets
or posing as an independent, balancing power in between Russia and
Germany. Byrnes says that invariably thereafter the Soviets used
the same security argument to justify their course in Poland. This reasoning
was also as inevitable as anything could be. Any free elections
that were to be held in Poland would have to produce a government
in which Moscow had complete confidence, and all pressure from the West
for free voting by anti-Soviet elements in Poland would be met
by
restrictions on voting by these elements.

#6. LIBERATED EUROPE#

In even greater degree the same rule applied to the remainder of Eastern
Europe, where the upper classes had generally collaborated with
the Nazis, even to the extent of sending millions of their peasants into
Russia as a part of Hitler's armies. But at Yalta the conflicting
expectations of East and West were merged into an agreement by
the Big Three to assist all liberated countries in Europe "to
create
democratic institutions of their own choice". In any case "<where
in their judgment conditions require>" [italics added] they
would "form interim governmental authorities broadly representative
of all democratic elements in the population and pledged to the earliest
possible establishment through free elections of governments responsive
to the will of the people". Other similar affirmations in the
Declaration on Liberated Europe seemed to assure democratic institutions
on the Western model. Later it developed that the Soviets had
a very different interpretation of democracy, which will be discussed
later, and their judgment never told them that the Big Three should
unite in establishing democratic conditions, as we understand them,
within their zone of influence. Professor McNeill thinks that
at Yalta, Stalin did not fully realize the dilemma which faced him,
that he thought the exclusion of the anti-Soviet voters from East
European
elections would not be greatly resented by his allies, while
neither Roosevelt nor Churchill frankly faced "the fact that, in Poland
at least, genuinely free democratic elections would return governments
unfriendly to Russia", by any definition of international friendliness.
Also war-time propaganda and cooperation had "obscured
the differences between Russian and Western ideas of democracy",
and it seemed better to have them covered by verbal formulae than to imperil
the military victories over Germany and Japan. The application
of these formulae could not please both sides, for they really
attempted to marry the impossible to the inevitable. While obliged
to concede governments in East Europe allied with the Soviet Union
instead of opposed to it, we thought we had preserved our social and
economic system in East Europe. This illusion was described
in a far-sighted editorial in the <New York Herald Tribune>, on
March 5, 1947, in connection with the submission of the satellite peace
treaties to the Senate. In doing so Marshall and Byrnes were "asking
for the ratification of a grim lesson in the facts of international
life". We had entertained exaggerated ideas about our victory
automatically establishing our system throughout the world. "<We
were troubled about the fate of the Baltic States. Yalta left us with
comforting illusions of a Western capitalist-democratic political
economy reigning supreme up to the Curzon line and the borders of Bessarabia>".
[Italics added.] This is a penetrating description
of our post-war illusion, which applied to other areas than East
Europe. The same editorial continued that "We expected to democratize
Japan and Korea and to see a new China pattern itself easily
on our institutions. We expected, in short, that most of the world
would make itself over in our image and that it would be relatively simple,
from such a position, to deal with the localized aberrations of
the Soviet Union". Yet actually "the image corresponded in no
way to the actualities of the post-war world. Neither our military, our
economic nor our ideological power reached far enough" to determine
the fate of East Europe. Then the editorial added prophetically:
"how far they may reach in Asia is yet undetermined, but they fall
far short of our dreams of the war conferences". Here is
the best short explanation of the origins of the Cold War that has been
written. Failing to heed the lesson so clearly contained in the satellite
treaties, President Truman re-declared the Cold War on March
12, 1947, in the Truman Doctrine, exactly one week after the <Herald
Tribune> editorial was written, and a year after the Cold War
had been announced by Churchill at Fulton, Missouri, in Truman's
presence. Then China promptly went Communist, and Mr& Truman
had to fight the interminable Korean war for the democratization of
Korea before we learned how far our writ did "reach in Asia".

Years of war, strain, and hatred; of heavy arms expenditures

and constant danger of another world war had to ensue before the United
States could bring itself to accept the two chief results of World
War /2,- Communist control of East Europe and China. _A
NEW BALANCE OF POWER._ While the Cold War raged it was easy to blame
it all on Yalta. Yet, in summarizing a series of careful essays
on the Yalta Conference, Forrest Pogue could find no basis for Yalta
becoming "a symbol for betrayal and a shibboleth for the opponents
of Roosevelt and international cooperation". When the Yalta Papers
were finally published with great fanfare they had revealed no betrayal
by anyone.

An analysis of the election falls naturally in four parts. First

is the long and still somewhat obscure process of preparation, planning
and discussion. Preparation began slightly more than a year after
independence with the first steps to organize rural communes. All
political interests supported electoral planning, although there are some
signs that the inherent uncertainties of a popular judgment led to
some procrastination. The second major aspect of the election is the
actual procedure of registration, nomination and voting. Considerable
technical skill was used and the administration of the elections was
generally above reproach. However, the regionally differentiated results,
which appear below in tables, are interesting evidence of the problems
of developing self-government under even the most favorable circumstances.
A third aspect, and probably the one open to most controversy,
is the results of the election. The electoral procedure prevented
the ready identification of party affiliation, but all vitally interested
parties, including the government itself, were busily engaged in
determining the party identifications of all successful candidates the
month following the elections. The fourth and concluding point will
be to estimate the long-run significance of the elections and how they
figure in the current pattern of internal politics. Elections
have figured prominently in nearly every government program and official
address since independence. They were stressed in the speeches
of Si Mubarak Bekkai when the first Council of Ministers was formed
and again when the Istiqlal took a leading role in the second Council.
King Muhammad /5, was known to be most sympathetic to the formation
of local self-government and made the first firm promise of elections
on May Day, 1957. There followed a long and sometimes bitter
discussion of the feasibility of elections for the fall of 1957, in
which it appears that the Minister of the Interior took the most pessimistic
view and that the Istiqlal was something less than enthusiastic.
Since the complicated process of establishing new communes and
reviewing the rudimentary plan left by the French did not even begin
until the fall of 1957, this goal appears somewhat ambitious. From
the very beginning the electoral discussions raised fundamental issues
in Moroccan politics, precisely the type of questions that were
most difficult to resolve in the new government. Until the Charter
of Liberties was issued in the fall of 1958, there were no guarantees
of the right to assemble or to organize for political purposes. The
Istiqlal was still firmly united in 1957, but the P&D&I& (<Parti
Democratique de l'Independance>), the most important minor
party at the time, objected to the Istiqlal's predominance in the
civil service and influence in Radio Maroc. There were rumors that
the Ministry of the Interior favored an arbitrary, "non-political"
process, which were indirectly affirmed when the King personally intervened
in the planned meetings. The day following his intervention
the palace issued a statement reassuring the citizens that "**h the
possibility of introducing appeals concerning the establishment of electoral
lists, lists of candidates and finally the holding of the consultation
itself **h" would be supported by the King himself.
The Ifni crisis in the fall of 1957 postponed further consideration
of elections, but French consultants were called in and notices of further
investigation appeared from time to time. In January, 1958, the
Minister of the Interior announced that an election law was ready
to be submitted to the King, the rumors of election dates appeared once
again, first for spring of 1958 and later for the summer. Although
the government was probably prepared for elections by mid-1958, the
first decision was no doubt made more difficult as party strife multiplied.
In late 1957 the M&P& (<Mouvement Populaire>) appeared
and in the spring of 1958 the internal strains of the Istiqlal was
revealed when the third Council of Government under Balafrej was formed
without support from progressive elements in the party. The parties
were on the whole unprepared for elections, while the people were
still experiencing post-independence let-down and suffering the after
effects of poor harvests in 1957. Despite the internal and international
crises that harassed Morocco the elections remained a central
issue. They figured prominently in the Balafrej government of May,
1958, which the King was reportedly determined to keep in office until
elections could be held. But the eagerly sought "homogeneity"
of the Balafrej Council of Government was never achieved as the Istiqlal
quarreled over foreign policy, labor politics and economic development.
By December, 1958, when 'Abdallah Ibrahim became President
of the Council, elections had even greater importance. They were
increasingly looked upon as a means of establishing the new rural
communes as the focus of a new, constructive national effort. To minimize
the chances of repeating the Balafrej debacle the Ibrahim government
was formed <a titre personnel> and a special office was created
in the Ministry of the Interior to plan and to conduct the elections.
By this time there is little doubt but what election plans were complete.
There remained only the delicate task of maneuvering the laws
through the labyrinth of Palace politics and making a small number
of
policy decisions. From the rather tortuous history of electoral
planning in Morocco an important point emerges concerning the first
elections in a developing country and evaluating their results. In
the new country the electoral process is considered as a means of resolving
fundamental, and sometimes bitter, differences among leaders and
also as a source of policy guidance. In the absence of a reservoir
of political consensus each organized political group hopes that the elections
will give them new prominence, but in a system where there is
as yet no place for the less prominent. Lacking the respected and effective
institutions that consensus helps provide, minority parties, such
as the P&D&I& in 1957 and the progressive Istiqlal faction
in 1958, clamor for elections when out of power, but are not at all
certain they wish to be controlled by popular choice when in power. Those
in power tend to procrastinate and even to repudiate the electoral
process. The tendency to treat elections as an instrument of self-interest
rather than an instrument of national interest had two important
effects
on electoral planning in Morocco. At the central level
the <scrutin uninominal> voting system was selected over some form
of the <scrutin de liste> system, even though the latter had been
recommended by Duverger and favored by all political parties. The
choice of the single member district was dictated to a certain extent
by problems of communication and understanding in the more remote areas
of the country, but it also served to minimize the national political
value of the elections. Although the elections were for local officials,
it was not necessary to conduct the elections so as to prevent parties
from publicly identifying their candidates. With multiple member
districts the still fragmentary local party organizations could have
operated more effectively and parties might have been encouraged to
state their positions more clearly. Both parties and the Ministry of
the Interior were busily at work after the elections trying to unearth
the political affiliations of the successful candidates and, thereby,
give the elections a confidential but known degree of national political
significance. Since a national interpretation cannot be avoided
it is unfortunate that the elections were not held in a way to maximize
party responsibility and the educational effect of mass political participation.

The general setting of the Moroccan election may

also encourage the deterioration of local party organization. The concentration
of effective power in Rabat leads not only to party bickering,
but to distraction from local activity that might have had many
auxiliary benefits in addition to contributing to more meaningful elections.
Interesting evidence can be found in the results of the Chamber
of Commerce elections, which took place three weeks before national
elections. The Istiqlal sponsored U&M&C&I&A& (<L'Union
Marocaine des Commercants, Industrialistes et Artisans>)
was opposed by candidates of the new U&N&F&P& (<L'Union
National des Forces Populaires>) in nearly all urban centers.
As the more conservative group with strong backing from wealthy
businessmen, the U&M&C&I&A& was generally favored
against the more progressive, labor-based U&N&F&P& The
newer party campaigned heavily, while the older, more confident party
expected the Moroccan merchants and small businessmen to support them
as they had done for many years. The local Istiqlal and U&M&C&I&A&
offices did not campaign and lost heavily. The
value of the elections was lost, both as an experiment in increased political
participation and as a reliable indicator of commercial interest,
as shown in Table /1,. The chamber of Commerce elections
were, of course, an important event in the preparation for rural commune
elections. The U&N&F&P& learned that its urban organization,
which depends heavily on U&M&T& support, was most
effective. The Istiqlal found that the spontaneous solidarity of
the independence struggle was not easily transposed to the more concrete,
precise problems of internal politics. The overall effect was probably
to stimulate more party activity in the communal elections than
might have otherwise taken place. A second major point of this
essay is to examine the formal arrangements for the elections. Although
a somewhat technical subject, it has important political implications
as the above discussion of the voting system indicated. Furthermore,
the problems and solutions devised in the electoral experiences of
the rapidly changing countries are often of comparative value and essential
to evaluating election results. The <sine qua non> of the elections
was naturally an impartial and standardized procedure. As the
background discussion indicated there were frequently expressed doubts
that a government dominated by either party could fairly administer
elections. The P&D&I& and later the Popular Movement protected
the Istiqlal's "privileged position" until the fall of
Balafrej, and then the Istiqlal used the same argument, which it had
previously ignored, against the pro-U&N&F&P& tendencies
of the Ibrahim government. The bulk of the preparation had,
of course, proceeded under the supervision of the Ministry of the Interior,
whose officials are barred from party activity and probably generally
disinterested in party politics. Apart from some areas of recurring
trouble, like Bani Mellal, where inexperienced officials had
been appointed, there is little evidence that local officials intervened
in the electoral process. Centrally, however, the administrative
problem was more complex and the sheer prestige of office was very likely
an unfair advantage. The King decided to remove Ibrahim a week
before elections and to institute a non-party Council of Government
under his personal direction. Although the monarch had frequently asserted
that the elections were to be without party significance, his action
was an implicit admission that party identifications were a factor.
The new Council was itself inescapably of political meaning, which
was most clearly revealed in the absence of any U&N&F&P&
members and the presence of several Istiqlal leaders. Since the
details of the elections were settled the change of government had no
direct effect on the technical aspects of the elections, and may have
been
more important as an indication of royal displeasure with the U&N&F&P&

Voting preparations began in the fall of 1959,

although the actual demarcation and planning for the rural communes
was completed in 1958. There were three major administrative tasks:
the fixing of electoral districts, the registration of voters and the
registration of candidates. Voter registration began in late November
1959 and continued until early January, 1960. The government was
most anxious that there be a respectable response. Periodic bulletins
of the accomplishment in each province made the registration process
into a kind of competition among provincial officials. A goal was fixed,
as given in Table 2, and attention focused on its fulfillment. The
qualifications to vote were kept very simple. Both men and women of
twenty-one years of age could register and vote upon presenting proof
of residence and identification. There were liberal provisions for
dispensation where documents or records were lacking. The police were
disqualified along with certain categories of naturalized citizens, criminals
and those punished for Protectorate activities. The
registration figures given in Table 2 must be interpreted with caution
since the estimate for eligible electors were made without the benefit
of a reliable census.

Unemployed older workers who have no expectation of securing employment

in the occupation in which they are skilled should be able to
secure counseling and retraining in an occupation with a future. Some
vocational training schools provide such training, but the current
need exceeds the facilities. _CURRENT PROGRAMS_ The present Federal
program of vocational education began in 1917 with the passage of
the Smith-Hughes Act, which provided a continuing annual appropriation
of $7 million to support, on a matching basis, state-administered
programs of vocational education in agriculture, trades, industrial skills
and home economics. Since 1917 some thirteen supplementary and related
acts have extended this Federal program. The George-Barden
Act of 1946 raised the previous increases in annual authorizations to
$29 million in addition to the $7 million under the Smith Act. The
Health Amendment Act of 1956 added $5 million for practical nurse
training. The latest major change in this program was introduced
by the National Defense Education Act of 1958, Title /8, of
which amended the George-Barden Act. Annual authorizations of $15
million were added for area vocational education programs that meet national
defense needs for highly skilled technicians. The Federal
program of vocational education merely provides financial aid to encourage
the establishment of vocational education programs in public
schools. The initiative, administration and control remain primarily
with the local school districts. Even the states remain primarily in
an assisting role, providing leadership and teacher training. Federal
assistance is limited to half of the total expenditure, and the
state or local districts must pay at least half. The state may decide
to encourage local programs by paying half of the cost, or the state
may require the local district to bear this half or some part of it.
Throughout the history of the program, state government expenditures
in the aggregate have usually matched or exceeded the Federal expenditures,
while local districts all together have spent more than either
Federal or state governments. Today, Federal funds account for only
one-fifth of the nation's expenditures for vocational education. The
greatest impact of the matching-fund principle has been in initially
encouraging the poorest states and school districts to spend enough
to obtain their full allocation of outside funds. National defense
considerations have been the major reason behind most Federal
training expenditures in recent decades. During World War /2, about
7.5 million persons were enrolled in courses organized under two special
programs administered by state and local school authorities: (1)
Vocational Education for National Defense, and (2) War Production
Training. The total cost of the five-year program was $297 million.
For the Smith-Hughes, George-Barden, and National Defense
Act of 1958, the cumulative total of Federal expenditures in 42 years
was only about $740 million. No comparable measures are available
of enrollments and expenditures for private vocational education
training. There are a great number and variety of private commercial
schools, trade schools and technical schools. In addition, many large
corporations operate their own formal training programs. A recent study
indicated that 85 per cent of the nation's largest corporations
conducted educational programs involving some class meetings and examinations.

Most skilled industrial workers, nevertheless, still

acquire their skills outside of formal training institutions. The National
Manpower Council of Columbia University has estimated that
three out of five skilled workers and one out of five technicians have
not been formally trained. There is little doubt that the students
benefit from vocational education. Employers prefer to hire youth
with such training rather than those without, and most graduates of
vocational training go to work in jobs related to their training. Vocational
educators do not claim that school training alone makes skilled
workers, but it provides the essential groundwork for developing skills.
In most states, trade and industrial training is provided
in a minority of the high schools, usually located in the larger cities.
In Arkansas fewer than 6 per cent of the high schools offer trade
and industrial courses. In Illinois about 13 per cent of the schools
have programs, and in Pennsylvania 11 per cent. An important
recent trend is the development of area vocational schools. For
a number of years Kentucky, Louisiana and several other states have
been building state-sponsored vocational education schools that serve
nearby school districts in several counties. These schools are intended
to provide the facilities and specialized curriculum that would not
be possible for very small school districts. Transportation may be
provided from nearby school districts. Courses are provided mainly for
post high school day programs; but sometimes arrangements also are
made for high school students to attend, and evening extension courses
also may be conducted. The Title /8, program of the National
Defense Education Act of 1958 was a great spur to this trend toward
area schools. By 1960 there were such schools in all but 4 states.
They were operating in 10 of the 17 major areas of chronic labor
surplus and in 10 of the minor areas. An extension of this program into
the other distressed areas should be undertaken. _RELATION TO NEW
INDUSTRY_ Some of this trend toward area vocational schools has been
related to the problems of persistent labor surplus areas and their
desire to attract new industry. The major training need of a new
industrial plant is a short period of pre-employment training for a
large number of semi-skilled machine operators. A few key skilled workers
experienced in the company's type of work usually must be brought
in with the plant manager, or hired away from a similar plant elsewhere.
A prospective industry also may be interested in the long-run
advantages of training programs in the area to supply future skilled workers
and provide supplementary extension courses for its employees.

The existence of a public school vocational training program in

trade and industry provides a base from which such needs can be filled.
Additional courses can readily be added and special cooperative programs
worked out with any new industry if the basic facilities, staff
and program are in being. Thus, besides the training provided to youth
in school, the existence of the school program can have supplementary
benefits to industry which make it an asset to industrial development
efforts. Few states make effective use of their existing vocational
education programs or funds for the purpose of attracting new
industry. The opportunity exists for states to reserve some of their
vocational education funds to apply on an <ad hoc> flexible basis
to subsidize any local preemployment training programs that my be quickly
set up in a community to aid a new industrial plant. _LOCAL FOCUS
OF PROGRAMS_ The major weakness of vocational training programs in
labor surplus areas is their focus on serving solely local job demands.
This weakness is not unique to labor surplus areas, for it is inherent
in the system of local school districts in this country.
Planning of vocational education programs and courses is oriented to
local employer needs for trained workers. All the manuals for setting
up vocational courses stress the importance of first making a <local>
survey of skill needs, of estimating the growth of <local> jobs,
and of consulting with <local> employers on the types of courses and
their content. Furthermore, there is a cautious conservatism
on the part of those making local skill surveys. Local jobs can be seen
and counted, while opportunities elsewhere are regarded as more hypothetical.

While the U& S& Department of Labor has a

program of projecting industry and occupational employment trends and
publishing current outlook statements, there is little tangible evidence
that these projections have been used extensively in local curriculum
planning. The U& S& Office of Education continues to stress
local surveys rather than national surveys. This procedure is
extremely shortsighted in chronic labor surplus areas with a long history
of declining employment. Elaborate studies have been made in labor
surplus areas in order to identify sufficient numbers of local job
vacancies and future replacement needs for certain skills to justify
training programs for those skills. No effort is made in the same studies
to present information on regional or national demand trends in these
skills or to consider whether regional or national demands for other
skills might provide much better opportunities for the youth to be
trained. Moreover, the current information on what types of training
are needed and possible is too limited and fragmentary. There
simply is not enough material available on the types of job skills that
are in demand and the types of training programs that are required
or most suitable. Much of the available information comes not from the
Federal government but from an exchange of experiences among states.
_PROPOSALS_ State and local agencies in the vocational education
field must be encouraged to adopt a wider outlook on future job opportunities.
There is a need for an expanded Federal effort to provide
research and information to help guide state education departments and
local school boards in existing programs. A related question
is whether unemployed workers can be motivated to take the training provided.
There is little evidence that existing public or private training
programs have any great difficulty getting students to enroll in
their programs, even though they must pay tuition, receive no subsistence
payments, and are not guaranteed a job. However, there always is
some limit to the numbers who will spend the time and effort to acquire
training. Again, one major difficulty is the local focus. A
training program in a depressed area may have few enrollees unless there
is some apparent prospect for better employment opportunities afterwards,
and the prospect may be poor if the training is aimed solely
at jobs in the local community. If there is adequate information on job
opportunities for skilled jobs elsewhere, many more workers can be
expected to respond. Another problem is who will pay for the training.
Local school districts are hard pressed financially and unenthusiastic
about vocational training. Programs usually are expanded only
when outside funds are available or local business leaders demand
it. Even industrial development leaders find it hard to win local support
for training unless a new industry is in sight and requests it. State
governments have been taking the lead in establishing area vocational
schools, but their focus is still on area job opportunities. Only
the Federal government is likely to be able to take a long-run and
nation-wide view and to pay for training to meet national skilled manpower
needs. If only state funds were used to pay for the vocational
education, it could be argued that the state should not have to
bear the cost of vocational training which would benefit employers in
other states. However, if Federal funds are used, it would be entirely
appropriate to train workers for jobs which could be obtained elsewhere
as well as for jobs in the area of chronic unemployment. Such training
would increase the tendency of workers to leave the area and find
jobs in other localities. A further possibility is suggested
by the example of the G& I& bills and also by some recent trends
in attitudes toward improving college education: that is to provide
financial assistance to individuals for vocational training when local
facilities are inadequate. This probably would require some support
for subsistence as well as for tuition, but the total would be no
greater than for the proposals of unemployment compensation or a Youth
Conservation Corps. A maximum of $600 per year per student would
enable many to take training away from home. A program of financial
assistance would permit placing emphasis on the national interest
in training highly skilled labor. Instead of being limited to the poor
training facilities in remote areas, the student would be able to
move to large institutions of concentrated specialized training. Such
specialized training institutions could be located near the most rapidly
growing industries, where the equipment and job experience exist
and
where the future employment opportunities are located. This would heighten
possibilities for part-time cooperative, on-the-job and extension
training. Personal financial assistance would enable more
emphasis to be placed on the interests of the individual. His aptitudes
and preferences could be given more weight in selecting the proper
training.

But briefly, the topping configuration must be examined for its

inferences. Then the fact that the lower channel line was pierced had
further forecasting significance. And then the application of the
count rules to the width (horizontally) of the configuration give us an
intial estimate of the probable depth of the decline. The very idea
of their being "count rules" implies that there is some sort of proportion
to be expected between the amount of congestive activity and
the extent of the breakaway (run up or run down) movement. This expectation
is what really "sold" point and figure. But there is no positive
and consistently demonstrable relationship in the strictest sense.
Experience will show that only the vaguest generalities apply, and
in fine, these merely dwell upon a relationship between the durations
and intensities of events. After all, too much does not happen too
suddenly, nor does very little take long. The advantages and disadvantages
of these two types of charting, bar charting and point and
figure charting, remain the subject of fairly good natured litigation
among their respective professional advocates, with both methods enjoying
in common, one irrevocable merit. They are both trend-following
methods. Even if we strip their respective claims to the barest minimum,
the "odds" still favor them both, for the trend in effect is
always
more likely to continue than to reverse. Of course, many
more things are charted besides prices. The foregoing have been methods
of charting prices, but now let us look at some of the other indices
that are customarily charted, and which are looked to for their forecasting
abilities. _THE QUEST FOR METHODS_ The search for forecasting
formulae is ceaseless. Correlations have been worked up between
the loading of freight cars and the course of stock price. The theory
behind this is, of course, fundamentalist in character. As the number
of reported freight car loadings increased, this was taken to indicate
increased industrial activity, and consequently increased stock earnings,
implying fatter dividends, and implying therefore increased stock
market prices. We now know that things rarely ever work out in such
cut-and-dried fashion, and that car loadings, while perhaps interesting
enough, are nevertheless not the magic formula that will always turn
before stock prices turn. But the quest for such an index
goes on ceaselessly, with all manner of investors and speculators participating,
ranging from the sedate institutional type virtually to the
proverbial shoe-string operator, all seeking doggedly, studiously, daily-
and often nightly- for the enchanting index that will foretell
the eternal secret: Which way will the market move; up or down?
It recalls to mind the quest of olden times for the fountain of youth,
a quest heavily invested in, during the days of wooden ships. Just
as heavily invested are the endeavors of multitudes of modern men who
carry on the quest for the enchanting index. The quest offers careers.
Much of this goes on in offices high up in Wall Street's lofty
wind-swept towers. There sit men who make moving averages of
weekly volume, monthly averages of price-earnings ratios, ratios of
the number of advances to the number of declines, ratios of an individual
stock's performance to overall market performance, ratios of rising
price volume to falling price volume, odd-lot indices, and what not.
They are concerned with all things traded in, securities, bonds, cocao,
coffee, soybeans, cotton, tin, oats, etc&. And along
Chicago's
West Jackson Boulevard, La Salle Street, and around the
Merchandise Mart Plaza there sit men who chart crop reports, who divide
the number of reported lady-bugs by the number of reported green-bugs,
and the number of hogs by the amount of corn. They plot the open
interest curves, rainfall curves, and they even divide Democratic
congressmen by Republican congressmen. All these things and countless
more enter into their calculations, and yet, the enchanting index remains
non-forthcoming. Not, at any rate, in the fuller sense of the word.

The markets are far too subtle, and the last word in these
endeavors will doubtless never be written, for the enchanting index
is about as nebulous as the fountain of youth. But whereas civilized
men no longer pursue the fountain, they never abandoned their pursuit
of the enchanting index. We mentioned odd-lot indices a
few paragraphs ago. In the stock market, the normal trading package
is a hundred shares, just as 5,000 bushels is the standard grain contract
package. A stock transaction for less than a hundred shares is executed
via a special odd-lot broker on the floor of the exchange. This
results in a separate record being made, distinguishing these trades
from the overall volume of trading. According to the theory underlying
odd-lot indices, the trader who trades odd lots is most likely
a small trader, one who can't afford to trade round lots. Or, to
use the cynical phraseology of one odd-lot index enthusiast, they represent
a sampling of the least sophisticated echelon of traders. Falling
most easily prey to an adverse market movement, for this rank of traders
can least afford to lose, virtually anything the odd-lot traders
do, marketwise, is taken to exemplify the "wrong" thing to do.

Figures reporting the volume of odd-lot purchases and odd-lot sales

are released by the stock exchange and carried in the newspapers.
Odd-lot index observers then make graphs of the data according to their
particular statistical recipe. They might, for example, plot it exactly
as is, or they might make ten day moving averages of it, or longer
moving averages, or they might simply plot the ratio of odd-lot purchases
to odd-lot sales. The particular recipe is a matter of individual
taste. The data is now interpreted in conjunction with a price
chart, usually of a popular stock average. Towards the end of
an intermediate or major rise, while the top is forming on the price
chart, it is frequently observed that the odd-lot buying increases sharply.
This warns the chartist that the formation in progress is quite
likely to be a top. Similarly, at the opposite end of the market cycle,
towards the end of an intermediate or major decline, usually while
the bottom is being formed on the price chart, it is characteristic
that an increase is noticed in odd-lot selling again alerting the chartist
that a bottom is becoming a greater likelihood. Thus, in the aggregate,
the odd-lot trader is one who buys at the tops and sells at the
bottoms, notwithstanding occasional individual exceptions. While
it had long been known in general, that "the public is always wrong",
the use of odd-lot indices now puts the adage on a statistical
basis. One might well wonder why the "public is always wrong"
and the question raised is about as awkward as the one concerned
with the chicken and the egg. Which came first? Is it really that
the "public" buys at the tops, and not that the market tops out when
the "public" buys? And the converse at bottoms. Does the "public"
usually sell at bottoms, or does the market usually bottom
out when the "public" sells? We have been using the word
"public" in quotation marks, that is, in its vernacular connotation
with reference to the odd-lot index theory. Obviously someone has
to sell in order for someone to buy, and vice versa. And while all concerned
are members of the literal public, somewhat less than all concerned,
although still a majority, form the quotation marked "public".
And the public minus the "public" leaves the so-called "sophisticated"
element- the element on the other end of the "public's"
transactions. This element is often called "strong
hands". Strong hands differ from "weak hands" in that their operations
are the primary movers. They initiate campaigns, so to speak,
even if this initiation is diffused among them, and their concerted action
only psychologically organized. Strong hands act; weak hands
react. Strong hands move first; weak hands ask, What is going on?
When strong hands buy, they are able to buy more, and they do it even
in the face of bearish news reports. They are able to sit more patiently
with what they have bought. Needless to say, strong hands are
not eager to be joined by weak hands, for this increases the risk that
they will have to absorb what these weak hands unload on the way up,
at higher prices, during the run-up phase of the campaign. Certain
badly disillusioned market critics are often apt to feel that there
is something somehow unfair, dirty, or even thoroughly criminal about
this interplay of competitive forces. But after all, can anyone imagine
a market wherein the reverse of these things were true? Try to
imagine a market in which only a minority of traders would lose, and
the majority would make consistent profits. How much and how many profits
could a majority take out of the losses of a few? Moreover,
the taunt concerning the "sophisticated" echelon and its alleged
erudition is put to test during every campaign, and accrues only
upon results; not before. It quite often happens that campaigns go
askew, resulting in a most unflattering deterioration of strong hands
into played-out hands, just as a member of a former campaign's "public"
may emerge flatteringly "right" the next time. Membership
in the echelons fluctuates too. The study of odd-lot indices
is somehow akin to the spectacle of a man trying to outfox his own shadow,
what with all observers trying to get on the side of the "few"
at the same time. The usefulness of this study and of configuration
analysis as well, declines in direct proportion to the dissemination
of its use. It has to, by virtue of the very dictionary definition of
the word "few". Diametric opposition must persist as to
the future course of prices, if there is to persist a market at all. And
the few must win what the many lose, for the opposite arrangement
would not support markets as we know them at all, and is, in fact, unimaginable.
There need be no squeamishness about admitting this. Anyone
still doubting that this is the only way markets can be is invited
to try to imagine a market wherein the majority consistently wins what
the minority loses. Mr& John Magee, whose work has been discussed
in this chapter, was quoted in a New Yorker magazine profile
as saying- "**h Of course, you have to remember it's a good thing
for us chartists that there aren't more of us. If you got too
many people investing by this method, their operations would begin to
affect stock prices, and thus throw the charts off. The method would
become self-defeating". Mr& Alexander H& Wheelan's
Study Helps in Point and Figure Technique tells the readers- "We
assure you that the total number of people using this method of
market analysis is a very small portion of the sum total of those operating
in the securities and commodities markets". What with
traders trading for so many different objectives, and what with there
being so many unique and individualized market theories and trading
techniques in use, and more coming into use all the time, it is hard to
imagine how any particular theory or technique could acquire enough
"fans" to invalidate itself. Nevertheless, all theories and techniques
lead but to one of two possible modes of expression, if they lead
to a market committment at all. In the final analysis, then, the user
becomes either a bull or a bear in a given instance, notwithstanding
any amount of forethought and calculation, however elaborate. Thus
while his theory or technique may not be oversubscribed, it is commonplace
for bullish and bearish positions to become temporarily over-subscribed.
Though the methods of deciding may be profound and diverse, the
possible conclusions remain but two.

#CHAPTER /6, MORE METHODS#

_THE HOAXES_ The purpose set forth at the beginning of this book
was first to introduce the reader to a general background knowledge
of the various types and capabilities of the forecasting methods already
in use, so that he might then be in a position to evaluate for himself
the validity of the rather astonishing empirical correlation that
is to follow, and to appraise the forecast that its interpretation suggests
for the future of farm prices over the years immediately ahead.

IN assessing the outlook for interest rates in 1961, the

question, as always, is the prospect for general business activity.
By
and large, what happens to business as a whole will govern the relationship
between demand and supply conditions in the capital markets and
will thus determine interest rates. Moreover, the trend of general business
activity in 1961 will exert a decisive influence on fiscal, monetary,
and other Federal policies which affect interest rates.

Nineteen-sixty has been a baffling year for analysts of general business

activity. During much of the year the general level of business
activity has moved along on a record-high plateau, but there have been
persistent signs of slack in the economy. The tendency for general
business activity to soften somewhat is becoming more evident.
Although the pause in the advance of general business activity this year
has thus far been quite modest, it is hard to escape the conclusion
that the softening process will continue into the first quarter of 1961
and possibly somewhat longer. It is difficult to see any powerful
sources of strength on the horizon at this time which would give the
economy a new upward thrust. The rate of plant and equipment spending
by business and industry now seems to be topping out and facing some
decline. In earlier business cycles, when this occurred the country usually
experienced a sharp upturn in residential construction as mortgage
financing became easier to obtain. At this time, however, there are
signs that increased availability of mortgage credit will not act with
the usual speed to stimulate a sharp rise in residential construction.
These signs are the inventories of unsold houses in some areas of
the country and the moderate rise in vacancy rates for apartments (7.6%
in September). On the other hand, in a more favorable vein, general
business activity should receive some stimulus from rising Federal
spending, and the reduction in business inventories has probably
run a good part of its course. The 2% increase in retail sales in October
to a 4-month high is encouraging in this connection as well
as the most recent consumer survey by the National Industrial Conference
Board, which shows a decided pickup in consumer spending plans.

The pattern of general business activity which probably lies

ahead of us is a further moderate softening through the spring of 1961
before a new rise in economic activity gets under way. The recovery
will probably be sparked by a rising rate of housing starts next spring
in response to more readily available mortgage credit, as well as by
an expansion of Government spending, well sustained consumer spending,
and some rebuilding of business inventories.

#SLIGHT DOWNWARD PRESSURE#

What does the general business outlook suggest about the trend
of long-term rates in 1961? It suggests that during the next several
months, through the spring of 1961, the demand for long-term capital
funds may be moderately lower and that interest rates may tend to
move a little lower, especially the rates on Federal, state, and local
bonds, as well as those on publicly offered corporate bonds. However,
as witnessed by the large corporate bond calendar at present, as well
as the record amount of municipal bond issues approved by voters, the
over-all demands for capital funds seem likely to remain high, so that
any downward pressure on rates from reduced demand should not be great.
It seems likely,
moreover, that with an increase in the rate of
saving in mortgage lending institutions, interest rates on residential
mortgages may move somewhat lower through the spring of next year, although
the increased ease in residential mortgage lending may occur primarily
in other terms than interest rate, e&g&, easier downpayment
and amortization terms. If the trend of general business activity
follows the pattern suggested here, we are likely to see additional
steps by the Federal Reserve authorities to ease the availability
of credit. Certainly a further reduction in the discount rate would
be a strong possibility, as well as an easier reserve position for the
banking system. However, the monetary authorities will continue to
be required to pay attention to the consequences of their actions with
respect to our international balance of payments position and the outflow
of gold, as well as with regard to avoiding the creation of excessive
liquidity in the economy, which would delay the effectiveness of
monetary policy measures in the next expansion phase of the business cycle.

#OPEN MARKET POLICY#

One of the most intriguing questions is

whether the recent departures of the Federal Reserve authorities from
confining their open market operations to Treasury bills will spread
into longer-term Government securities in the next few months. To
the extent that the new Administration has its wishes, the Federal
Reserve would conduct its open market operations throughout the entire
maturity range of Government securities and aggressively seek to force
down long-term interest rates. The principle of "bills only",
or "bills preferably", seems so strongly accepted by the Federal
Reserve that it is difficult to envision conditions which would persuade
the authorities to depart radically from it by extending their open
market purchases regularly into long-term Government securities.
However, to the extent that the monetary authorities, in their effort
to ease credit in the next several months, conduct their open market
operations in longer-term Government bonds, they will certainly act to
accentuate any tendency for long-term interest rates to ease as a result
of market forces. By the end of the spring of 1961, assuming
that a general business recovery gets under way, interest rates should
begin to edge upward again, depending upon the vigor of the recovery
and the determination with which the monetary authorities move to
restrain credit availability. My guess would be that interest rates will
decline moderately into the spring of 1961 and during the second half
of the year will turn up gradually to recover the ground lost during
the downturn. It is pertinent to ask the question: Has the
long upswing of interest rates during the past 15 years just about
run its course, and are we now entering a period in which both capital
market forces and Federal policies will produce a prolonged decline
of interest rates? My answer is in the negative because I believe
that total capital demands during the Sixties will continue to press
against available supplies, and interest rates will generally tend to
be firm at high levels.

#FIVE BASIC FORCES#

This view is based upon

several basic economic forces which I believe will be operating in
the Sixties, as follows: _(1)_ Recent events in the General
Assembly of the United Nations confirm that the cold war will remain
with us, and probably intensify, for the foreseeable future. This makes
it certain that Federal expenditures for military preparedness and
foreign economic aid are likely to rise further in the next several
years. We are just beginning the task of trying to win or maintain the
friendship of the new African nations against the ruthless competition
of the Communist bloc. Our efforts to overcome the lead of the
Russians in space are bound to mean accelerated Federal spending. Moreover,
it is likely that Federal policies aimed at stimulating a faster
rate of economic growth of the country, to keep ahead of the Communist
countries and to demonstrate that our free economic system is better
than theirs, will lead to rising Federal spending in certain areas
such as education, housing, medical aid, and the like. There are
serious dangers involved in this trend toward rising Federal expenditures,
of which I take a dim view, but it seems very likely to occur.
_(2)_ During the Sixties we have the prospect of a significant stepping
up in the rate of household formations, which should contribute
to a rising volume of consumer expenditures and home building. According
to the latest
projections of the Bureau of the Census, the annual
rate of household formations will increase for the next 20 years. Under
the most favorable assumptions for increase, the Bureau of the
Census projects that the annual rate of household formations will rise
from about 883,000 in the last two years of the Fifties to an annual
rate of about 1,018,000 in the first five years of the Sixties, and
to a slightly higher annual rate of 1,083,000 in the second half of the
decade. During the Seventies the projections show a more pronounced
rise to an annual rate of 1,338,000 in the second half of that decade.
Accordingly, the expanding markets for consumer goods and housing
occasioned by the higher rate of household formation should enhance the
general economic prospects of the Sixties. However, the impact of
a rising rate of household formation this decade should not be exaggerated.
The average annual rate of 1,083,000 in the second half of the
Sixties is still considerably below the annual rate of 1,525,000 in
the three-year period from April 1947 to March 1950. _(3)_ With
the expansion of family formation in the Sixties, a continued substantial
rise in expenditures by state and local government units seems
to be indicated. This is an area in which there is still a large backlog
of demand. State and local expenditures (in real terms) increased
persistently from $26.5-billion in 1949 to $44.3-billion in 1959, and
it would not be surprising if they showed a comparable increase in this
decade, which would carry them to the neighborhood of $75-billion
by 1970. Here would be a powerful force for raising business activity.
_(4)_ It seems likely that with the three preceding forces at play,
the rate of business and industrial plant and equipment expenditures
should continue to move upward from the levels of the Fifties. Spurred
by keen competition in our industrial system, and still further
increases in the funds devoted to industrial research, plant and equipment
expenditures by business and industry should rise during the decade.
_(5)_ In a more pessimistic vein about the economic outlook,
I suspect that the reservoir of demand for consumer goods and housing
which was dammed-up during the Thirties and World War /2, is finally
in the process of running dry. There is some clear-cut evidence
of this. For example, the huge postwar demand on the part of veterans
for housing under the ~VA home loan guaranty program seems to have
largely exhausted itself. Indeed, the failure of home-building as a
whole to respond this year to somewhat greater availability of mortgage
financing, and the increasing reports of pockets of unsold homes and
rising vacancy rates in apartment buildings, may also signal in part
that the lush days of big backlog demand for housing are reaching an
end. In a way, we may be witnessing the same thing in the sales of automobiles
today as the public no longer is willing to purchase any car
coming on the market but is more insistent on compact cars free of
the frills which were accepted in the Fifties. The huge backlog of demand
which was evident in the first decade and a half after the War
was fed by liquid assets accumulated by the public during the War, and
even more so by the easier and easier credit in the consumer loan and
home loan fields. The consuming public has used up a good part of these
liquid assets, or they have been drained by the rising price level,
and we have apparently gotten to the end of the line in making consumer
or home mortgage terms easier. This is not to say that the level
of consumer expenditures will not continue to rise in the Sixties. I
am confident that it will, but consumer spending in the Sixties will
not be fortified by the great backlog of wants and desires which characterized
most of the Fifties. Markets should become more competitive
as consumers become more selective.

#SIXTIES' CAPITAL REQUIREMENTS#

Accordingly, during the Sixties our national economy is likely

to grow at as fast a rate as in the Fifties and, in the process, to
require enormous amounts of capital funds.

Wage-price policies of industry are the result of a complex of

forces- no single explanation has been found which applies to all cases.
The purpose of this paper is to analyze one possible force which
has not been treated in the literature, but which we believe makes a
significant contribution to explaining the wage-price behavior of a few
very important industries. While there may be several such industries
to which the model of this paper is applicable, the authors make particular
claim of relevance to the explanation of the course of wages
and prices in the steel industry of the United States since World
War /2,. Indeed, the apparent stiffening of the industry's attitude
in the recent steel strike has a direct explanation in terms of the
model here presented. The model of this paper considers an industry
which is not characterized by vigorous price competition, but
which is so basic that its wage-price policies are held in check by continuous
critical public scrutiny. Where the industry's product price
has been kept below the "profit-maximizing" and "entry-limiting"
prices due to fears of public reaction, the profit seeking producers
have an interest in offering little real resistance to wage demands.
The contribution of this paper is a demonstration of this proposition,
and an exploration of some of its implications. In order
to focus clearly upon the operation of this one force, which we may call
the effect of "public-limit pricing" on "key" wage bargains,
we deliberately simplify the model by abstracting from other forces,
such as union power, which may be relevant in an actual situation. For
expository purposes, this is best treated as a model which spells
out the conditions under which an important industry affected with the
public interest would find it profitable to raise wages even in the absence
of union pressures for higher wages. Part /1, below describes
this abstract model by spelling out its assumptions. Part /2,
discusses the operation of the model and derives some significant
conclusions. Part /3, discusses the empirical relevance and policy
implications of the conclusions. Part /4, is a brief summary. The
Mathematical Appendix presents the rigorous argument, but is best read
after Part /1, in order that the assumptions underlying the equations
may be explicit. #/1, THE ASSUMPTIONS OF THE MODEL#

_A.
THE INDUSTRY_ The industry with which this model is concerned is a
basic industry, producing a substantial share of gross national product.
Price competition is lacking. For the purposes of setting the product
price, the industry behaves as a single entity. In wage negotiations,
the industry bargains as a unit with a single union. _B. THE DEMAND
FOR THE INDUSTRY'S PRODUCT_ We are concerned with aggregate
demand for the industry's product. The manner in which this is shared
among firms is taken as given. In any given time period, the aggregate
demand for the industry's product is determined by two things:
the price charged by the industry, and the level of ~GNP. For
the purposes of this discussion, the problem of relative prices is encompassed
in these two variables, since ~GNP includes other prices.
(We abstract here from technological progress and assume that prices
of all other products change proportionately.) The form of
the industry demand function is one which makes quantity demanded vary
inversely with the product price, and vary directly with the level of
~GNP. _C. INDUSTRY PRODUCT PRICE POLICY_ The industry of
this model is so important that its wage and price policies are affected
with a public interest. Because of its importance, and because the
lack of price competition is well recognized, the industry is under considerable
public pressure not to raise its price any more than could
be justified by cost increases. The threat of effective anti-trust action,
provoked by "gouging the public" through price increases not
justified by cost increases, and fears of endangering relations with
customers, Congress, the general public and the press, all operate
to keep price increases in some relation to cost increases. For the
industry of this model, the effect of such public pressures in the
past has been to hold the price well below the short-run profit-maximizing
price (given the wage rate and the level of ~GNP), and even
below the entry-limited price (but not below average cost). For
such an industry, it is only "safe" to raise its price if such an
increase is manifestly "justified" by rising costs (due to rising
wages, etc&). Thus, if public pressure sets the effective limit to
the price that the industry may charge, this pressure is itself a function
of the wage rate. In this model, we abstract from all non-wage
sources of cost changes, so that the "public-limit price" <only>
rises as the wage rate rises. In such circumstances, it may well be
to the advantage of the industry to allow an increase in the basic wage
rate. Since marginal costs rise when the wage rate rises, the
profit-maximizing price also rises when the public-limit price is elevated,
and is likely to remain well above the latter. The entry-limiting
price will also be raised for potential domestic competition, but
unless general inflation permits profit margins to increase proportionately
throughout the economy, we might expect the public-limit price
to approach the entry-limit price. The foreign-entry-limit price would
be approached more rapidly, since domestic wage-rates do not enter foreign
costs directly. Where this approach becomes critical, the industry
can be expected to put much emphasis on this as evidence of its
sincerity in "resisting" the wage pressures of a powerful union,
requesting
tariff relief after it has "reluctantly" acceded to the union
pressure. Whether or not it is in the industry's interest
to allow the basic wage rate to rise obviously depends upon the extent
to which the public-limit price rises in response to a basic wage
increase, and the relation of this response to the increase in costs accompanying
the wage increase. The extent to which the public-limit price
is raised by a given increase in the basic wage rate is itself a
function of three things: the passage of time, the level of ~GNP,
and the size of the wage increase. We are abstracting from
the fact of strikes here, but it should be obvious that the extent to
which the public-limit price is raised by a given increase in the basic
wage rate is also a function of the show of resistance put up by the
industry. The industry may deliberately take a strike, not to put pressure
on the union, but in order to "educate" the government and
the customers of the industry. As a strike continues, these parties increase
their pressure on the industry to reach an agreement. They become
increasingly willing to accept the price increase that the industry
claims the wage bargain would entail. Public indignation and
resistance to wage-price increases is obviously much less when the increases
are on the order of 3% per annum than when the increases are
on the order of 3% per month. The simple passage of an additional
eleven months' time makes the second 3% boost more acceptable. Thus,
the public-limit price is raised further by a given wage increase
the longer it has been since the previous price increase. Notice, however,
that the passage of time does not permit the raising of prices
<per se>, without an accompanying wage increase. Similarly, higher
levels of ~GNP do not, in themselves, provide grounds for raising
prices, but they do relax some of the pressure on the industry so that
it can raise prices higher for a given wage increase. This is not
extended to anticipated levels of ~GNP, however- only the current
level of ~GNP affects the public pressure against wage-price increases.
Finally, since the public requires some restraint on the part
of the companies, larger wage increases call for less than proportionately
larger price increases (e&g&, if a wage increase of 5% allows
a price increase of 7%, a wage increase of 10% allows a price
increase of something less than 14%). _D. INDUSTRY COSTS_ We
assume that average total unit cost in the relevant region of operation
is constant with respect to quantity produced (the average cost curve
is horizontal, and therefore is identical with the marginal cost curve),
and is the same for every firm (and therefore for the industry).
The <level> of this average cost is determined by factor prices, technology,
and so forth. As we have noted, however, we are abstracting
from changes in all determinants of this level except for changes in
the wage rate. The level of average cost (equal to marginal cost) is
thus strictly a function of the wage rate. _E. UNION POLICIES AND COLLECTIVE
BARGAINING ISSUES_ The single union which faces the industry
does not restrict its membership, and there is an adequate supply
of labor available to the firms of the industry at the going wage rate.
The union does not regard unemployment of its own members as a matter
of concern when setting its own wage policy- its concern with employment
makes itself felt in pressure upon the government to maintain
full employment. The union vigorously demands wage increases from
productivity increases, and wage increases to offset cost-of-living
increases, but we abstract from these forces here. For our present
purposes we assume that the sole subject of bargaining is the basic wage
rate (not including productivity improvement factors or cost-of-living
adjustments), and it is this basic wage rate which determines the
level of costs. Productivity is something of an amorphous concept and
the amount of productivity increase in a given time period is not even
well known to the industry, much less to the union or to the public.
Disagreement on the amount of productivity increase exacerbates the
problem of agreeing how an increase in profit margins related to a productivity
increase should be shared. The existence of conflict and of
vigorous union demand for an increase in money wages does not contradict
the assumption that the union is willing to settle for cost-of-living
and productivity-share increases as distinct from a cost-raising increase
in the basic wage rate. We assume further that the union
recognizes the possibility that price-level increases may offset wage-rate
increases, and it does not entirely disregard the effect of price
increases arising from its own wage increases upon the "real"
wage rate. For internal political reasons, the union asks for (and accepts)
increases in the <basic> wage rate, and would vigorously oppose
a reduction in this rate, but the adjustment of the basic wage rate
upwards is essentially up to the discretion of the companies of the industry.

Changes in the basic wage rate are cost-raising, and

they constitute an argument for raising prices. However, it is not known
to either the union or the public precisely how much of a cost increase
is caused by a given change in the basic wage rate, although the
companies are presumed to have reliable estimates of this magnitude.

In this model, then, the industry is presumed to realize that

they could successfully resist a change in the basic wage rate, but since
such a change is the only effective means to raising prices they may,
in circumstances to be spelled out in Part /2, below, find it to
their advantage to allow the wage rise. Thus, for non-negative changes
in the basic wage rate, the industry becomes the active wage-setter,
since any increase in the basic wage rate can occur only by reason
of industry acquiescence. The presumption in the literature would appear
to be that the basic wage rate would be unchanged in this case, on
the grounds that it is "clearly" not in the interest of the industry
to raise wages gratuitously. From this presumption it is an easy
step to the conclusion that any observed increases in the basic wage rate
must be due to union behavior different and more aggressive than assumed
in our model. It is this conclusion that we challenge; we do
so by disproving the presumption on which it is based. #/2, THE OPERATION
OF THE MODEL#

It is convenient to assume that the union-industry

contract is of one year's duration.
In the century from 1815 to 1914 the law of nations became international
law. Several factors contributed to this change. The
Congress of Vienna is a convenient starting point because it both
epitomized and symbolized what was to follow. Here in 1815 the great
nations assembled to legislate not merely for Europe, but for the world.
Thus the Congress marks a formal recognition of the political system
that was central to world politics for a century. International
law had to fit the conditions of Europe, and nothing that could not
fit this
system, or the interests of the great European nations collectively,
could possibly emerge as law in any meaningful sense. Essentially
this imposed two conditions: First, international law had to recognize
and be compatible with an international political system in which
a number of states were competitive, suspicious, and opportunistic
in their political alignments with one another; second, it had to
be compatible with the value system that they shared. In both respects,
international law was Europeanized. It was not always easy
to develop theory and doctrine which would square the two conditions.
On the one hand, the major European nations had to maintain vis-a-vis
each other an emphasis upon sovereignty, independence, formal equality-
thus insuring for themselves individually an optimal freedom of
action to maintain the "flexibility of alignment" that the system
required and to avoid anything approaching a repetition of the disastrous
Napoleonic experience. But there was no pressing need to maintain
these same standards with regard to most of the rest of the world.
Thus, theory and doctrine applicable among the great nations and the
smaller European states did not really comfortably fit less developed
and less powerful societies elsewhere. Political interference in Africa
and Asia and even in Latin America (though limited in Latin America
by the special interest of the United States as expressed in
the Monroe Doctrine, itself from the outset related to European politics
and long dependent upon the "balance of power" system in Europe)
was necessary in order to preserve both common economic values
and the European "balance" itself. A nation such as Switzerland
could be neutralized by agreement and could be relied upon to protect
its neutrality; more doubtful, but possible, (with an assist from the
North) was the neutralization of the Latin American countries;
out of the question was the neutralization of Asia and Africa.

This Europeanization of the law was made explicit by a number of

19th century scholars. More emphasis was put upon the fact that international
law was the law of "civilized nations"; Kent and Story,
the great early American scholars, repeatedly made use of this phrase,
or of "Christian nations", which is a substantial equivalent.
Wheaton stated that the public law was essentially "limited to the
civilized and Christian peoples of Europe or to those of European
origin". Of course it had always been of European origin in fact,
but it had maintained a universal outlook under the natural law theory.
Now, with virtually every writer, not only was the European origin
of public law acknowledged as a historical phenomenon, but the rules
thus established by the advanced civilizations of Europe were to be imposed
on others. The European customs on which international law was
based were to become, by force and fiat, the customs that others were
to accept as law if they were to join this community as sovereign states.
Hall, for example, was quite explicit on this point when he said
"states outside European civilization must formally enter into the
circle of law-governed countries. They must do something with the
acquiescence of the latter, or some of them, which amounts to an acceptance
of the law in its entirety beyond all possibility of misconstruction".
During the nineteenth century these views were protested by
virtually all the Latin American writers, though ineffectively, just
as the new nations of Africa and Asia protest them, with more effect,
today. A number of other nineteenth-century developments
contributed
to the transmutation of the law of nations into international
law; that is, from aspects of a universal system of Justice into
particular rules governing the relations of sovereign states. The difference
is important, for although the older law of nations did cover
relationships among sovereigns, this was by no means its exclusive domain.
The law of nature governed sovereigns in their relationship to
their own citizens, to foreigners, and to each other in a conceptually
unified system. The theory of international law, which in the nineteenth
century became common to virtually all writers in Europe and America,
broke this unity and this universality. It lost sight of the
individual almost entirely and confined itself to rules limiting the exercise
of state power for reasons essentially unconnected with justice
or morality save as these values might affect international relations.
No longer did the sovereign look to the law of nations to determine
what he ought to do; his search was merely for rules that might limit
his freedom of action. To appreciate this development, we
must relate it to other aspects of nineteenth-century philosophy. First,
and most obvious, was the growing nationalism and the tendency to
regard the state, and the individual's identification with the state,
as transcending other ties of social solidarity. National identification
was not new, but it was accelerating in intensity and scope throughout
Europe as new unifications occurred. It reached its ultimate
philosophical statement in notions of "state will" put forward by
the Germans, especially by Hegel, although political philosophers will
recognize its origins in the rejected doctrines of Hobbes. National
identification was reflected jurisprudentially in law theories which
incorporated this Hegelian abstraction and saw law, domestic and international,
simply as its formal reflection. In the international community
this reduced law to Jellinek's auto-limitation. A state, the
highest form of human organization in fact and theory, could be subjected
to Law only by a manifestation of self-will, or consent. According
to the new theories, the nineteenth century corporate sovereign
was "sovereign" in a quite new and different sense from his historical
predecessors. He no longer sought to find the law; he made it;
he could be subjected to law only because he agreed to be. There was
no law, domestic or international, except that willed by, acknowledged
by, or consented to by states. Hidden behind Hegelian abstractions
were more practical reasons for a changing jurisprudence. Related
to, but distinguishable from, nationalism was the growth of democracy
in one form or another. Increased participation in politics and
the demands of various groups for status and recognition had dramatic
effects upon law institutions. The efforts of various interest groups
to control or influence governmental decisions, particularly when
taken in conjunction with the impact of industralization, led to a concentration
of attention on the legislative power and the means whereby
policy could be formulated and enforced as law through bureaucratic institutions.
Law became a conscious process, something more than simply
doing justice and looking to local customs and a common morality for
applicable norms. Particularly was this true when the norms previously
applied were no longer satisfactory to many, when customs were rapidly
changing as the forces of the new productivity were harnessed. The
old way of doing things, which depended on a relatively stable community
with stable ideas dealing with familiar situations, was no longer
adequate to the task. First was the period of codification of existing
law: the Code Napoleon in France and the peculiar codification
that, in fact, resulted from Austin's restatement and ordering of
the Common Law in England. Codification was followed in all countries
by a growing amount of legislation, some changing and adjusting
the older law, much dealing with entirely new situations. The legislative
mills have been grinding ever since, and when its cumbersome processes
were no longer adequate to the task, a limited legislative authority
was delegated in one form or another, to the executive. Whereas
the eighteenth century had been a time in which man sought justice, the
nineteenth and twentieth have been centuries in which men are satisfied
with law. Indeed, with developed positivism, the separation of law
from justice, or from morality generally, became quite specific.

In municipal systems we tend to view what is called positivism as

fundamentally a movement to democratize policy by increasing the power
of parliament- the elected representatives- at the expense of the
more conservative judiciary. When the power of the latter was made
both limited and explicit- when norms were clarified and made more precise
and the creation of new norms was placed exclusively in parliamentary
hands- two purposes were served: Government was made subservient
to an institutionalized popular will, and law became a rational
system for implementing that will, for serving conscious goals, for embodying
the "public policy". It is true that, initially, the task
was to remove restrictions that, it was thought, inhibited the free
flow of money, goods, and labor; but even laissez-faire was a conscious
policy. Law was seen as an emanation of the "sovereign will".
However, the sovereign was not Hobbes' absolute monarch but rather
the parliamentary sovereign of Austin. It was, too, an optimistic
philosophy, and, though it separated law from morality, it was by no means
an immoral or amoral one. Man, through democratic institutions
of government and economic freedom, was master of his destiny. The theory
did not require, though it unfortunately might acquire, a Hegelian
mystique. It was merely a rationalization and ordering of new institutions
of popular government. It was not opposed to either justice
or morality; it merely wished to minimize subjective views of officials
who wielded public authority. Particularly was this true as
laissez-faire capitalism became the dominant credo of Western society.
To free the factors of production was a major objective of the rising
bourgeoisie, and this objective required that governmental authority-
administrative officials and judges- be limited as precisely
and explicitly as possible; that old customs which inhibited trade be
abrogated; that business be free from governmental supervision and
notions of morality which might clog the automatic adjustments of the
free market; that obligations of status that were inconsistent with
the new politics and the new economics be done away with. Contract-
conceived as the free bargain of formal equals- replaced the implied
obligations of a more static and status-conscious society. Indeed,
contract was the dominant legal theme of the century, the touchstone
of the free society. Government itself was based upon contract; business
organization- the corporation- was analyzed in contractual terms;
trade was based on freedom of contract, and money was lent and
borrowed on contractual terms; even marriage and the family was seen
as a contractual arrangement. It is not surprising that the international
obligations of states were also viewed in terms of contract. In
fact, some- Anzilotti is the principle example- went so far as
to say that all international law could be traced to the single legal
norm, <Pacta sunt Servanda>. The displacement (at least to
a considerable extent) of the ethical jurisprudence of the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries by positivism reshaped both international law
theory and doctrine. In the first place the new doctrine brought
a
formal separation of international from municipal law, rejecting the earlier
view that both were parts of a universal legal system. One result
was to nationalize much that had been regarded as the law of nations.
Admiralty law, the law merchant, and the host of problems which arise
in private litigation because of some contact with a foreign country
were all severed from the older Law of Nations and made dependent
on the several national laws. Private international law (which Americans
call the "conflict of laws") was thus segregated from international
law proper, or, as it is often called, public international law.
States were free to enact, within broad though (perhaps) determinate
limits, their own rules as to the application of foreign law by their
courts, to vary the law merchant, and to enact legislation with regard
to many claims arising on the high seas. The change was not quite
so dramatic as it sounds because in fact common norms continued to be
invoked by municipal courts and were only gradually changed by legislation,
and then largely in marginal situations.
Mr& Justice Black was one of the minority that rested on the Article
/1, power. In this view, supported by only three members of the
Court, a power denied by the specific provisions of Article /3,
was granted by the generality of Article /1,. If this seems arbitrary,
its effect was to treat citizens of the District of Columbia equally
with citizens of the states- at the expense of expanding a troublesome
jurisdiction.

#FEDERAL QUESTION JURISDICTION#

For almost
a hundred years we relied upon state courts (subject to review by the
Supreme Court) for the protection of most rights arising under national
law. Then in 1875, apparently in response to the nationalizing
influence of the Civil War, Congress first gave the lower federal courts
general authority- concurrently with state tribunals- to decide
cases involving federal-right questions. One purpose of the change
was to attain sympathetic enforcement of rights insured by the Civil
War amendments against state interference. Serious difficulty arose
with the advent of Substantive Due Process. An amendment, presumably
designed to deal with the problems of newly freed slaves, became
a "laissez-faire" limitation upon state economic policy. A flood
of federal lower court injunctions seriously impeded the processes of
local government. Congress reacted with a series of measures modifying
in various ways what it had granted in 1875. In 1910 it required the
convening of a special three-judge court for the issuance of certain
injunctions and allowed direct appeals to the Supreme Court. Such
legislation was clarified and extended from time to time thereafter.
In 1913 an abortive provision was made for the stay of federal injunction
proceedings upon institution of state court test cases. The essential
ineffectiveness of these measures resulted in 1934 in substantial
elimination of federal jurisdiction to enjoin state public utility rate
orders. Three years later similar restraints were imposed upon injunctions
against collection of state taxes. This saved for state adjudication,
in the first instance, the two major areas where federal injunctions
had been most obnoxious, but other areas remained vulnerable.

Meanwhile, the Supreme Court, like Congress, showed misgivings

concerning this aspect of government by injunction. Drawing upon
the traditional discretion of the chancellor, Mr& Justice Holmes
introduced a series of self-imposed judicial restraints that culminated
in Mr& Justice Frankfurter's famous doctrine of abstention.
Whereas the earlier cases turned rather narrowly upon the availability
of adequate state remedies, the new emphasis is upon the nature of
the state policy at issue. The classic case is <Railroad Commission>
v& <Pullman>. The commission had issued an administrative order
which was challenged as discriminatory against Negroes. Its enforcement
was enjoined by a federal trial court. On review the Supreme
Court, via Mr& Justice Frankfurter, found southern racial problems
"a sensitive area of social policy on which the federal courts ought
not to enter unless no alternative to **h adjudication is open".
An alternative was found in the vagueness of state law as to whether
the offending order had in fact been authorized. Reluctant, as usual,
to interpret state legislation- such interpretation can only be
a "forecast rather than a determination"- Mr& Justice Frankfurter
led a unanimous Court to vacate the injunction. But it is crucial
that here, unlike <Burford>, the trial court was ordered to retain
the case until the state courts had had a reasonable opportunity
to settle the state-law question. "The resources of equity are equal
to an adjustment that will avoid the waste of a tentative decision as
well as the friction of a premature constitutional adjudication".

Temporary abstention, i&e&, postponement, is one thing;

refusal to adjudicate is another. To the extent that the jurisdictional
principle of 1875 stands unmodified by subsequent legislation, federal
equitable relief against state action must be available- or so
it seems to Mr& Justice Frankfurter. In <Alabama Public Service
Commission> v& <Southern Ry& Co>&, the commission had
refused to permit abandonment of certain "uneconomic" train facilities.
The railroad, claiming deprivation of property without due process
of law, sought injunctive relief. The Court held that federal
jurisdiction should not be exercised lest the domestic policy of the state
be obstructed; this in the name of equitable discretion.
Justices Frankfurter and Jackson concurred in the Court's result,
for they found no merit in the railroad's claim. But they objected
vigorously to the proposition that federal courts may refuse to exercise
jurisdiction conferred in a valid act of Congress: "By
one fell swoop the Court now finds that Congress indulged in needless
legislation in the acts of 1910, 1913, 1925, 1934 and 1937. By
these measures, Congress, so the Court [in effect] now decides, gave
not only needless but inadequate relief, since it now appears that
the federal courts have inherent power to sterilize the Act of 1875 against
all proceedings challenging local regulation". A most
revealing recent case is <Textile Workers Union> v& <Lincoln
Mills>. The Taft-Hartley Act gave the federal courts jurisdiction
over "suits for violation of contracts between an employer and a
labor organization representing employees in an industry affecting commerce".
On its face this merely provides a federal forum; it does
not establish any law (rights) for the federal judges to enforce. How
can judges exercise jurisdiction to enforce national rights when Congress
has created none? The Court held that Congress had intended
the federal judiciary to "fashion" an appropriate law of labor-management
contracts. In short, congressional power to grant federal-question
authority to federal courts is now apparently so broad that Congress
need not create, or specify, the right to be enforced.
The <Lincoln Mills> decision authorizes a whole new body of federal
"common law" which, as Mr& Justice Frankfurter pointed out
in dissent, leads to one of the following "incongruities": "(1)
conflict in federal and state court interpretations of collective
bargaining agreements; (2) displacement of state law by federal law
in state courts **h in all actions regarding collective bargaining agreements;
or (3) exclusion of state court jurisdiction over these matters".
The Justice's elaborate examination of the legislative history
of the provision in question suggests that Congress' purpose
was merely to make unions <suable>. With a few exceptions, the lawmakers
seemed unaware of the technical problems of federal jurisdiction
involved- to say nothing of the delegation of lawmaking power to judges.
To avoid these constitutional difficulties, Mr& Justice Frankfurter
was prepared to read the Taft-Hartley provision as concerned
with diversity, rather than federal question, jurisdiction. This
would satisfy what presumably was Congress' major purpose- the suability
of unions. It would also leave intact the states' traditional
authority in the realm of contract law. (As we have seen, the <Erie>
and <York> decisions require federal courts in diversity cases
to follow state decisional rules.) Here again Mr& Justice Frankfurter
could not lightly accept the principle of wholesale judicial
legislation. If Congress wants to displace the states from areas
which they have customarily occupied, let it do so knowingly and explicitly.
And let it do its own lawmaking and not leave that to federal
judges. Does <Lincoln Mills> suggest that if Congress granted jurisdiction
over interstate divorce cases, the federal courts would be
authorized to fashion a national law for the dissolution of marriages?

There is a common problem behind most of these federal question

and diversity cases. Congress has not clearly defined the bounds
between state and federal court competence. It has the power to do
so but for the most part has left the matter for solution by judges on
a case-by-case basis. A careful student has suggested that "In any
new revision [of the Judicial Code] the legislators would do well
to remember that the allocation of power to the federal courts should
be limited to those matters in which their expertise in federal law
might be used, leaving to the state judiciaries the primary obligation
of pronouncing state law". Obviously, the goal here proposed is the
guiding principle in Mr& Justice Frankfurter's opinions- to
the extent that Congress leaves the problem to judicial discretion.
The same rule of specialization and division of labor guides him in
the ~FELA <certiorari> cases, in the administrative law area,
and indeed in the whole realm of judicial review. Mr& Justice Black
no doubt concurs in principle but is more apt to make exceptions to
achieve a generous and "just" result. He will not be "fooled
by technicalities".

#FEDERAL REVIEW OF STATE DECISIONS#

With few
exceptions, Congress has not given federal courts <exclusive> authority
to enforce rights arising under federal law. To put it differently,
state and federal courts have concurrent jurisdiction with respect
to most claims of federal right. To insure uniformity in the meaning
of national law, however, state interpretations are subject to Supreme
Court review. It may be noted, parenthetically, that to evade
"desegregation"
an ex-Justice and former southern governor has urged
Congress to abolish this reviewing authority. The result, of course,
would be that federal law inevitably would mean different things in
different states. It would also probably mean different things within
the same state- depending upon what court (state or federal) rendered
decision. We consider here only a few of many problems involved
in this crucial federal-state relationship. The first is that enforcement
of national law in state litigation raises in reverse the old
diversity puzzle of the relation of procedure to substance. Subject to
certain constitutional restraints in favor of fair trials, each level
of government is free to devise its own judicial procedures. Litigants
who choose to assert federal claims in a state court go into that
court subject to its rules of procedure. A similar canon applies to those
who press state claims in federal tribunals, e&g&, in diversity
cases. In an ~FELA
controversy the state court followed established state procedure
by construing a vague complaint "most strongly against" the complainant.
In other words the burden of pleading clearly rested upon
the pleader by state law. The result was that the plaintiff's case
was dismissed. Mr& Justice Black led a reversing majority: "Strict
local rules of pleading cannot be used to impose unnecessary burdens
upon rights of recovery authorized by federal law". Here, as
in the <Byrd> case, another element of state procedure was subsumed
to federal judge-made law. Justices Frankfurter and Jackson dissented:
"One State may cherish formalities more than another, one
State may be more responsive than another to procedural reforms. If
a litigant chooses to enforce a Federal right in a State court, he
cannot be heard to object if he is treated exactly as are plaintiffs who
press like claims arising under State law with regard to the form
in which the claim must be stated- the particularity, for instance,
with which a cause of action must be described. Federal law, though invoked
in a State court, delimits the Federal claim- defines what
gives a right to recovery and what goes to prove it. But the form in
which the claim must be stated need not be different from what the State
exacts in the enforcement of like obligations created by it, so long
as a requirement does not add to, or diminish, the right as defined
by Federal law, nor burden the realization of this right in the actualities
of litigation". Another problem in the area of federal-state
relationships is this: what constitutes reversible error in
a state decision? <Terminiello> v& <Chicago> involved a conviction
for disorderly conduct under a local ordinance. The conduct
in question was a speech. The accused did not object to the trial court's
charge to the jury that discourse "may constitute a breach of
the peace if it stirs the public to anger, invites dispute, brings about
a condition of unrest **h". For present purposes it may be assumed
that this charge so narrowly limited speech as to violate the federal
Constitution. Though the accused raised many other objections, he
did not object on this crucial point at any stage of the proceedings.
That is, he did not claim in any of the four courts through which his
case progressed that the jury charge had denied him any federal right.
How else can one explain, for example, allowing the survival of the right
to amortize bond discount and premium (section 381(c)(9)), but not
the right to amortize bond issue expenses; or allowing a deduction
for payment of certain obligations of a transferor assumed in the reorganization
(section 381(c)(16)), but not a deduction for theft losses
sustained by a transferor prior to a reorganization but discovered
after it; or requiring a transferor to carry over its method of depeciation
(section 381(c)(6)), but not allowing rapid amortization of
emergency facilities transferred in a reorganization; or allowing survival
of a dividend carryover to a personal holding company (section
381(c)(14)), but not carryover of excess tax credits for foreign taxes?

These items, and most of the others listed above, seem

quite comparable to items whose right of survival is provided for in section
381. There does not seem to be any reasonable basis for distinction
either in terms of the nature of the tax attribute or in terms of
tax-avoidance possibilities. With respect to items such as these the
provisions of section 381(c), viewed in historical perspective, suggest
a rule requiring survival, whether the items are beneficial or detrimental
to the surviving corporation. To this extent some stretching
of the literal meaning of the Committee Report seems justified, since
the literal meaning conflicts with the clear implication, if not the
language, of the statute. It is not contended that section
381 should prescribe the survival of all of the transferor's tax attributes.
Such an interpretation could not be justified by a construction
of the statute alone; it would certainly violate the intention of
Congress as expressed in the Committee Report; and in at least
one instance, involving refund claims, it might be contrary to another
provision of the United States Code.

#REFUND CLAIMS#

Section
203 of the United States Code voids an assignment of a claim against
the Government unless made after it has been allowed, the amount due
has been ascertained, and a warrant for its payment has been issued.
If it were not for judicial development of certain exceptions, this
section would prohibit a suit for refund by an acquiring corporation for
taxes paid by a transferor corporation, even though the reorganization
meets the requirements of section 381(a). A clearly recognized
exception is a statutory merger or consolidation. The leading case,
<Seaboard Air Line Railway v& United States,> held that
the transferee could sue for a refund of taxes paid by the transferor,
and it has been consistently followed. The Court said the purpose
of the section was principally to spare the Government the embarrassment
and trouble of dealing with several parties, one of them a stranger
to the claim, and to prevent traffic in claims, particularly tenuous
claims, against the Government. Neither reason, said the Court, applied
to the case at hand; furthermore, Congress could not be presumed
to have intended to obstruct mergers approved by the states. Other
exceptions are assignments for the benefit of creditors, corporate dissolutions,
transfers by descent, or transfers by subrogation. Exceptions
are often classified as transfers by "operation of law".

A tax-free reorganization not complying with the merger or consolidation

statutes of the states involved is difficult to fit into an "operation
of law" mold. Although it is in some ways comparable to
a voluntary sale of assets for cash, to which section 203 quite clearly
applies, the courts and Treasury have held that acquiring corporations
in several types of non-taxable reorganizations may sue for refund
of taxes paid by transferors. A recent case in point is <Mitchell
Canneries v& United States,> in which a claim against the Government
was transferred first from a corporation to a partnership, whose
partners were former stockholders, and then to another corporation formed
by the partners. Holding the final corporation entitled to sue on
the claim, the Court cited the <Seaboard, Novo Trading,> and <Roomberg>
cases for the proposition that "**h transfers by operation
of law or in conjunction with changes of corporate structure are not
assignments prohibited by the statute". In an earlier case,
<Kingan + Co& v& United States,> an American corporation
was formed for the purpose of acquiring the stock of a British corporation
in exchange for its own stock and then liquidating the British
corporation. The anti-assignment statute was held not to prevent the
American corporation from suing for a refund of taxes paid by the British
corporation. The transaction presumably would have qualified under
section 368(a)(1)(B) as a contractual reorganization, followed
by a section 332 liquidation, but not under section 368(a)(1)(A)
as a statutory merger of consolidation. The Court, nevertheless, relied
on the <Seaboard> case and also mentioned that the shareholders
of the two corporations were the same. In substance, said the Court,
there was no transfer of equitable title. The Treasury arrives
at substantially the same conclusion, but skirts the problem of section
203 of the United States Code. Revenue Ruling 54-17 provides
that if the corporation against which a tax was assessed has since been
liquidated by merger with a successor corporation, a claim for refund
should be filed by the successor in the name and on behalf of the
corporation which paid the tax, followed by the name of the successor
corporation. Proper evidence of the liquidation and succession must also
be filed. If the succession is a matter of public record, certificates
of the Secretaries of State or other public officials having custody
of the documents will suffice; if the succession is not of record,
all documents relating to such succession, properly certified, are
required. The former proof seems applicable to a statutory merger
or consolidation, the latter to a contractual acquisition. The Ruling
would not, however, apply to an acquisition of assets for cash. A recent
Ruling, although rather confusing, cites and follows Rev& Rul&
54-17. The Ruling suggests also that it applies to either a statutory
or contractual reorganization. Hence, a successor corporation
in a ~C reorganization appears entitled to sue for a refund of taxes
paid by the merged corporation despite section 203. In a ~B
reorganization, followed by a section 332 liquidation, those cases
which hold that section 203 is inapplicable to transfers in liquidation
appear to permit the successor corporation to sue for refund of taxes
paid by the transferor. In fact, a cash purchase of a corporation's
stock followed by liquidation might also be an effective way to transfer
a claim for refund if the <Kimbell-Diamond> doctrine is not
applied to eliminate the intermediate step. These results appear
sound. As stated in <Seaboard> and numerous other cases, the two
primary reasons for the enactment of section 203 of the United States
Code were to prevent the Government from having to deal with more
than one claimant and to prevent the assignment of meretricious claims
on a contingent-fee basis. The cases have allowed transfer of claims
if beneficial ownership is not changed. The first reason would never
apply to a reorganization transfer which meets the conditions of section
381(a), which is the only type presently under discussion. Section
381(a) applies only to a transfer by liquidation of a subsidiary
owned to the extent of at least 80 per cent, a statutory merger or consolidation,
an acquisition of substantially all a corporation's assets
solely in exchange for voting stock, or a change of identity, form,
or place of organization. In virtually every case the transferor corporation
is liquidated, and its former stockholders either own outright,
or have a continuing stock interest in, the assets which gave rise
to the tax. In these circumstances the possibility of multiple or conflicting
claims is exceedingly remote. Furthermore, in a ~C reorganization
the continuing interest of stockholders of the corporation
which paid the tax must be greater than is necessary in a statutory merger,
to which the statute is clearly inapplicable. Nor is it
at all likely that a "desperate" claim against the Government will
be assigned on a contingent-fee basis in the guise of a tax-free reorganization.
If the transferor has substantial assets other than the
claim, it seems reasonable to assume no corporation would be willing to
acquire all of its properties in the dim hope of collecting a claim
for refund of taxes. If such an unlikely transaction were to take place,
it would more logically be accomplished by a stock purchase, followed
by the prosecution of the claim by the wholly-owned subsidiary, followed
by liquidation. In the rare case where a corporation's only
substantial asset, or its most important one, is a claim for refund, perhaps
its transfer should not be permitted, whether the reorganization
takes the form of a statutory merger or of the acquisition of assets
for stock. It appears, then, that although the matter is not
dealt with in section 381(c), a successor corporation in a reorganization
of a type specified in section 381(a) is entitled to sue for refund
of taxes paid by a transferor corporation. Section 203 of the United
States Code has been interpreted as not applying to claims against
the Government transferred in tax-free reorganizations. The successor
corporations have been held entitled to sue on such claims.

#OTHER
TAX ATTRIBUTES OF THE TRANSFEROR#

There are certain tax attributes

of a corporation whose nature and effect might depend on the facts
of the particular reorganization involved. For example, property "used
in the trade or business" of a transferor corporation, as defined
in section 1231, presumably would not retain its special status following
a non-taxable reorganization if it is not so used in the business
of the acquiring corporation. The parent of a group filing consolidated
returns might be treated as the same corporation following a reorganization
defined in section 368(a)(1)(F), but as a different corporation
for this purpose after a tax-free acquisition by another corporation
which had not, for example, elected to file consolidated returns
with its own subsidiaries. Similar considerations presumably made
it difficult to prescribe a general rule where the acquired and acquiring
corporations have different methods of accounting (section 381(c)(4))
or depreciation (section 381(c)(6)). Other sections
of the 1954 Internal Revenue Code provide for survival of certain of
a transferor's tax attributes following a tax-free reorganization.
Section 362 requires carryover of the transferor corporation's basis
for property transferred, and section 1223 provides for tacking on
the transferor's holding period for such property to that of the transferee.
Section 169 permits a person acquiring grain-storage facilities
to elect to continue amortization over a 60-month period. However,
a similar privilege was not specifically provided in section 168 for
a person acquiring emergency facilities. _ATTRIBUTES SIMILAR TO A LOSS
CARRYOVER._ There may be certain items which are quite similar
to a net operating loss carryover or operating deficit and whose right
to survive a reorganization should perhaps be subject to the conditions
applicable to those items. For example, suppose another excess profits
tax similar to prior laws is enacted, providing for carryover of
excess profits credits. This carryover right has a number of things in
common with a net operating loss carryover. It is an averaging device
intended to ease the tax burden of fluctuating income; it is a tax
benefit which might be of substantial value to a corporation which expects
to have a high excess profits tax. Under the 1939 Code this item
was permitted to survive a tax-free reorganization in the <Stanton
Brewery> case, but only over the dissent of Judge Learned Hand,
who wrote the majority opinion in the <Sansome> case, a leading case
requiring carryover of earnings and profits in a non-taxable reorganization.

Since this type of item was not in the statute when

section 381 was enacted in 1954, one cannot say with certainty what effect
the enactment of that section should have. With respect to this
type of item, one might properly apply the language of the Committee
Report, quoted above, which cautions against using section 381 as a
basis for treating other tax attributes not mentioned therein.
Actually, there do not presently appear to be items in the statute comparable
to a net operating loss carryover. Probably the primary reason
for special treatment of a net operating loss carryover is the unique
opportunity it presents for tax avoidance.

#A. REASONS FOR SELECTING MAIL QUESTIONNAIRE METHOD#

There were two

methods that could have been used for conducting the study within the
resources available: (1) interviews in depth with a few selected
companies, and (2) the more limited interrogation of a large number of
companies by means of a mail questionnaire. While the method
of interviewing a small number of companies was appealing because of the
opportunity it might have furnished to probe fully the reasons and
circumstances of a company's practices and opinions, it also involved
the risk of paying undue attention to the unique and peculiar problems
of just a few individual companies. As a result, it was decided that
a mail questionnaire sent to a large number of companies would be more
effective in determining the general practices and opinions of
small
firms and in highlighting some of the fundamental and recurring problems
of defense procurement that concern both industry and government.
It was also hoped that responses to a mail questionnaire would suggest
fruitful inquiries that might be made in subsequent studies of a more
detailed nature. It is recognized that a mail questionnaire
has inherent limitations. There is the danger that the questions will
mean different things to different respondents. Simple "yes" or
"no" answers do not reveal the different shades of opinion that the
various respondents may have. A respondent may want to make alternative
answers because he does not know the precise circumstances assumed
in the question. There is also the problem of the respondent's frame
of reference. Is the respondent making a recommendation for his own
benefit, for the benefit of his industry, for the benefit of a specific
government department or service, for the benefit of the defense
program, for the benefit of small business, or for the benefit of the
taxpayers? There is also the question of whether the respondent
based his answers on factual information and carefully considered
judgment, or whether his answers were casual guesses. Finally, there
is the question of how strongly an expressed opinion is held- whether
it is a firm opinion or one that the respondent favors only slightly
over the alternatives. The research team was very mindful of
these dangers and limitations of a mail questionnaire. Under the circumstances,
however, the team considered it would provide the most useful
information at this point. In the preparation of the questionnaire
the problems noted above were carefully considered, and the structure
and phraseology used were designed to minimize the effects of these
limitations.

#B. DESIGN OF THE QUESTIONNAIRE#

The questionnaire was

designed to elicit three types of information: (1) the facts regarding
certain characteristics of the respondents, including their experience
with, and interest in, securing defense business; (2) the actual
selling and buying practices of the respondents; and (3) the attitudes
and opinions of the respondents concerning bidding procedures and
the methods of awarding defense contracts. It was hoped that the facts
concerning the characteristics and practices of the respondents would
offer clues to the reasons why they took the positions and made the
recommendations which they did. The major sections of the questionnaire
(see Appendix ~B) are devoted to the following:
_1._
Information for classifying respondents (Part ~A of the questionnaire)
_2._ Characteristics of defense sales activities (Part ~B
of the questionnaire) _3._ Respondents' practices in participating
in advertised bidding for defense business (Part ~C of the
questionnaire) _4._ Respondents' practices in participating in
negotiated bidding for defense purposes (Part ~D of the questionnaire)
_5._ Respondents' opinions regarding advertised bidding
(Part ~E of the questionnaire) _6._ Respondents' opinions regarding
negotiated bidding (Part ~F of the questionnaire) _7._
Respondents' preferences regarding the methods of awarding defense
contracts (Part ~G of the questionnaire) The questionnaire
provided a place for the name of the respondent but stated that identification
of the respondent was optional. The questionnaire also stated
that, in any event, all replies would be treated confidentially.
It is interesting to note that 75 per cent of those who returned the
questionnaire identified themselves.

#C. PREPARATION AND PRETEST OF

THE QUESTIONNAIRE#

The research team prepared and then revised the questionnaire

over a period of six months. In June, 1960, an early draft
of the questionnaire, along with a cover letter, was mailed to fourteen
companies in the state of Washington. Several days after the companies
had received the questionnaire, members of the research team contacted
the presidents of eleven of these companies in person or by phone
to discuss any ambiguities or difficulties the addressees might have
experienced in completing the questionnaire. This test resulted in
further revisions of the questionnaire. The research team was
concerned that responses from firms in the state of Washington might
not be typical of those throughout the country, or that the results might
be different when no phone or personal follow-up was made. Accordingly,
another test of the questionaire was made. The revised draft
was mailed in July, 1960, to 100 firms throughout the United States.
Fifty of the 100 firms were selected on a random basis from 3,500 names
submitted by member companies of the Aerospace Industries Association
(~AIA list) and fifty were selected in a similar manner from
a list of 1,500 names compiled by the research team from the Thomas
Register (~TR list). The method of compiling the ~AIA and
~TR lists will be described later. Ten days after the questionnaires
were mailed, follow-up airmail postcards were sent urging
those companies which had not yet returned their questionnaires to do
so at once. Twenty-eight returns in all were received. The responses
were carefully checked for obvious errors in the answers or for questions
that were apparently not understood by the respondent. The cover
letter, questionnaire, and follow-up postcard were then revised into
final form (see Appendixes ~A, ~B, and ~C.

#D. COMPILATION
OF MAILING LISTS#

The objective of the study was to determine the

opinions and practices of small firms selling to defense programs. The
firms to receive the questionnaires were selected with this objective
in mind. Three lists of companies were made and used in the
study. The first was a list of fourteen manufacturing companies
located in the state of Washington which were personally known to
the research team to be active in defense work. The primary consideration
in the compilation of this list was convenience in discussing the
questionnaire with company officers. The second list was derived
from a group of approximately 8,000 names supplied to the research
team by the Aerospace Industries Association. These names were secured
from member companies by the Association from the forty-four sources
listed in Appendix ~F. Each source selected from its approved
bidders list about 200 firms which it believed to be small businesses
that participated in the production of weapons and weapon support systems.
Where possible, the name of an executive was supplied along with
the company name and address. The forty-four lists supplied
by the ~AIA member companies were merged and duplicate names were
eliminated. There was further elimination of all companies that were
not accompanied by the name of a responsible company executive. The
remaining names were then checked against the Thomas Register list
(see below) and duplicate names were removed from the ~AIA lists.
By these steps the final ~AIA list was reduced from 8,000 to 3,500.

The third list was selected by the research team on a random

basis from the Thomas Register. It was compiled as a control sample
to determine if the opinions and practices of companies on the
lists
submitted by the members of the Aerospace industries Association
were materially different from those of other small firms selling to defense
programs. Such a difference might have resulted from: _1._
The fact that the Aerospace Industries Association members whose
lists were used did not comprise all firms engaged in defense programs.
_2._ The fact that companies on the ~AIA lists were already
participating in the defense program because of the manner of their
selection. Accordingly, as "in-group", they might have different
opinions
and practices than an "out-group" composed of those companies
not so participating but interested in defense business. _3._
The fact that ~AIA lists might not have been selected on a random
basis. The control sample was selected by taking the bottom
name of each of the two columns of names on each page of the alphabetical
listing of manufacturers in the Thomas Register. If the bottom
name in each column did not have a responsible executive identified,
the next name above which identified such a responsible executive was
substituted. Fifteen hundred names were selected in this fashion.

#E.
MAILING THE QUESTIONNAIRE#

Each questionnaire was mailed with a

cover letter addressed personally to the president or other executive
of each firm. The questionnaires were mailed in Seattle, Washington,
and sent by regular mail to addresses in the states of Idaho, Montana,
Oregon, and Washington. Airmail was used for the addresses outside
the Pacific Northwest. Each letter contained a postage-prepaid
return envelope by regular mail for addresses in the Pacific
Northwest, and by airmail for those outside the Pacific Northwest.
Approximately ten days after the questionnaire was mailed, a
follow-up
airmail postcard was sent to each of the original names. The
first test mailing (to 14 companies) was made in June, 1960. The second
test mailing (to 100 companies) was made in July, 1960. The final
mailing of the questionnaire was made late in August, 1960, to 4,900
firms consisting of 3,450 from the ~AIA list and 1,450 from the
~TR list.

#F.
RETURNS RECEIVED#

Over 1,000 returns were received

within two weeks after the final mailing was made. They continued
to arrive until the end of December, 1960, by which time a total of
1,343 returns were received representing 26.8 per cent of the 5,014
questionnaires
sent out. Fifty-seven returns could not be used because
they were incomplete or received too late to be processed. The remaining
1,286 returns that were processed came from the categories in Table
2.

#G. PROCESSING THE RETURNS#

Each questionnaire was audited

for obvious mistakes and for comments, and was identified by a serial
number, by the source list from which the company name was selected,
and by the geographical location of the company as determined by the postmark
on the return envelope. All responses, except comments, were
numerically coded to permit use of data-processing equipment. The codes
were key-punched
into ~IBM punch cards and verified. Each return
required three cards and involved key punching 228 digital columns.
In order to be able to properly relate the data for a single company
each of the three cards comprising the set for each firm was identified
with the appropriate serial number of the respondent. The cards were
then processed using standard ~IBM punch card equipment, including
an ~IBM 650 computer. The first step in processing was
to analyze the returns from Questions 1, 2, and 3 to determine
whether the respondents were large businesses or small businesses, in
accordance with the definitions contained in ~ASPR Section 1-701.
(see Chapter /2,). The results are shown in Table 3.
The returns from companies classified as large businesses were set aside
and not used because they were not relevant to a study of the opinions
and practices of small firms. The second step in processing
was to compare the responses from companies on the ~AIA list with
those from companies on the ~TR list in order to determine whether
it would be appropriate to merge the responses for the purposes of
the study. The methods and results of this comparative analysis are
described in Appendix ~H. It was concluded that it would be appropriate
to process the two groups of responses as a single sample of all
small businesses engaged in, or wishing to sell to, defense programs.
In the first place, the two groups of firms, when combined, had characteristics
and practices that were more representative of companies
that were the subject of this study than did the firms from the ~AIA
list alone.

THE vast Central Valley of California is one of the most

productive agricultural areas in the world. During the summer of 1960,
it became the setting for a bitter and basic labor-management struggle.

The contestants in this economic struggle are the Agricultural

Workers Organizing Committee (~AWOC) of the ~AFL-~CIO
and the agricultural employers of the State. By virtue of
the legal responsibilities of the Department of Employment in the
farm placement program, we necessarily found ourselves in the middle between
these two forces. It is not a pleasant or easy position, but one
we have endeavored to maintain. We have sought to be strictly neutral
as between the parties, but at the same time we have been required
frequently to rule on specific issues or situations as they arose.

Inevitably, one side was pleased and the other displeased, regardless
of how we ruled. Often the displeased parties interpreted our decision
as implying favoritism toward the other. We have consoled ourselves
with the thought that this is a normal human reaction and is one
of the consequences of any decision in an adversary proceeding. It
is disconcerting, nevertheless, to read in a labor weekly, "Perluss
knuckles down to growers", and then to be confronted with a growers'
publication which states, "Perluss recognizes obviously phony and
trumped-up strikes as bona fide". For a number of years,
there have been sporadic attempts in California to organize farm workers.
These attempts met with little sucess for a variety of reasons.
They were inadequately financed, without experienced leadership, and
lacked the general support of organized labor as a whole. This past
year the pattern has been different: The organizing program had the
full support of the ~AFL-~CIO, which supplied staff and money
to the ~AWOC, as well as moral support. Leadership was experienced
and skillful, and financial resources were significant. Regardless
of where personal sympathies may lie as between the parties, failure
to recognize these changed conditions would be to ignore the facts
of life. As a result of these changed conditions, the impact
of the organizational effort on agricultural labor-management relations
has been much greater than in the past. The ~AWOC has been able
to employ the traditional weapons of labor- the strike and the
picket
line- with considerable success, particularly in the area of wages.

By the very nature of the situation, it is the union which

has been able to select the time and place to bring pressure upon management.
To date, at least, the strategy of the ~AWOC has been
selective; that is to say, to concentrate on a particular crop or activity
in a particular area at a strategic time, rather than any broadside
engagement with management throughout an area or the State.

Primarily, we became involved in these disputes because of our referral

obligations under our farm placement program. Normally, because
agricultural labor is not covered by unemployment insurance, we would
not expect any issues to arise regarding benefit payments under the trade
dispute provision of the Unemployment Insurance Code, although
such a situation is quite within the realm of possibility. But the current
issues arose out of the Wagner-Peyser Act concerning referrals
to an establishment where a labor dispute exists, and out of Public
Law 78 and the Migrant Labor Agreement if Mexican nationals were
employed at the ranch. Most of us remember and think of the Wagner-Peyser
Act in its historical sense, as a major milestone in the
development of public placement services. Infrequently do we think
of it as a living, continuing, operating control over the system. However,
when labor disputes arise, its provisions come clearly into play.
California has accepted the provisions of that Act (as have all other
States) by enacting into our Code (Section 2051) a provision that

<The State of California accepts the provisions of the

Wagner-Peyser Act, **h and will observe and comply with the requirements
of that act>. With respect to labor disputes, the Wagner-Peyser
Act states only, <In carrying out the provisions
of this Act, the Secretary is authorized and directed to provide for
the giving of notice of strikes or lock-outs to applicants before they
are referred to employment>.

Other provisions of the Act empower

the Secretary to adopt regulations necessary to carry out its provisions,
and he has done so. The pertinent regulation for our purposes
is Section 602.2 (~b), as follows: Referrals in labor
dispute situations. <No person shall be referred to a position the
filling of which will aid directly or indirectly in filling a job which
(1) is vacant because the former occupant is on strike or is being locked
out in the course of a labor dispute, or (2) the filling of which
is an issue in a labor dispute. With respect to positions not covered
by subparagraph (1) or (2) of this paragraph, any individual may be
referred to a place of employment in which a labor dispute exists, provided
he is given written notice of such dispute prior to or at the time
of his referral>. In analyzing this regulation, let us take
the last sentence first. It permits referrals under certain circumstances
even when there is a labor dispute, provided the individual is
given written notice of such a dispute. Assume, for example, a situation
where a farm has a packing shed and fields. The packing shed workers
go on strike. There is no dispute involving fieldwork. We concluded
that we may refer workers to the fieldwork (but not the packing shed
work) provided we give them written notice of the packing shed dispute.
So far, no troublesome cases have arisen under this provision.

It is the first part of the Regulation that is currently at issue.

Note that it <prohibits> referrals under either condition (1)
or condition (2). Employer representatives have contended that the Secretary
has gone beyond his authority by such a prohibition, on the
grounds that the Wagner-Peyser Act requires only written notice to
the prospective worker that a dispute exists.

#INTO COURT#

The matter
got into the courts this way: One of the early strikes called
by the ~AWOC was at the DiGiorgio pear orchards in Yuba County.
We found that a labor dispute existed, and that the workers had left
their jobs, which were then vacant because of the dispute. Accordingly,
under clause (1) of the Secretary's Regulation, we suspended
referrals to the employer. (Incidentally, no Mexican nationals were
involved.) The employer, seeking to continue his harvest, challenged
our right to cease referrals to him, and sought relief in the Superior
Court of Yuba County. The court issued a temporary restraining
order, directing us to resume referrals. We, of course, obeyed the court
order. However, the Attorney General of California, at the request
of the Secretary of Labor, sought to have the jurisdiction over
the issue removed to the Federal District Court, on grounds that
it was predominantly a Federal issue since the validity of the Secretary's
Regulation was being challenged. However, the Federal Court
held that since the State had accepted the provisions of the Wagner-Peyser
Act into its own Code, and presumably therefore also the
regulations, it was now a State matter. It accordingly refused to assume
jurisdiction, whereupon the California Superior Court made the
restraining order permanent. Under that order, we have continued referring
workers to the ranch. A similar case arose at the Bowers ranch
in Butte County, and the Superior Court of that county issued similar
restraining orders. The growers have strenuously argued
that I should have accepted the Superior Court decisions as conclusive
and issued statewide instructions to our staff to ignore this provision
in the Secretary's Regulation. I cannot accept that view,
either as a lawyer or as an administrator.

#LEGAL CONSIDERATIONS#

First, let us examine briefly some of the legal considerations involved.

It is an accepted juridical principle in California that a Superior
Court decision does not constitute a binding legal precedent. It
is conclusive, unless appealed, only upon the particular parties to
the particular action which was heard. It is not binding upon another
Superior Court, which could rule to the contrary. Only when a decision
is rendered by the District Court of Appeal (or, of course, the
Supreme Court) is a binding precedent established. In that event,
we can correctly say that we have received an authoritative interpretation
of the matter, and one which we can follow statewide with confidence
that the policy will not be overthrown in other Superior Courts.

But over and beyond the compelling need for a binding precedent
decision, I am convinced that the decisions of the Superior Courts
which in effect nullify the Secretary's Regulation are not a
correct interpretation of the Secretary's power under the Federal
law. I believe I am in good company in this view. The Attorney General
of California concurs in this interpretation and has filed an appeal
from these decisions to the District Court of Appeal. The Attorney
General of the United States, in considering the power of the
Secretary to issue similar regulations under the Wagner-Peyser Act
relating to the interstate recruitment of farm workers, has rendered
an opinion sustaining his authority. Further, and as an evidence of
legislative intent only, the Senate of the United States recently
defeated by a substantial majority the "Holland Amendment" to the
Fair Labor Standards Act, which would have specifically limited
the regulatory authority of the Secretary in these matters. Next,
let us consider briefly the program and administrative implications
of a failure on our part to pursue our appeals. There is far
too much at stake for all of the parties concerned to leave the matter
hanging in midair. The ramifications of the issue are enormous. A
decision to refer workers to jobs vacant because of a strike would have
to be applied equally to nonagricultural situations, and might in
effect place the public employment services in the position of acting
as strikebreakers. The public interest is so dominant in such an issue
that I cannot be so presumptuous as to attempt to settle it by an administrative
order based upon conclusions reached in a summary action
in one or two Superior Courts in the State. It is an issue which
may well reach the Supreme Court of the United States before judicial
finality is achieved. As an administrator, I cannot place
the Employment Service in California in jeopardy of being out of compliance
with the Federal laws by my failure to pursue the avenues of
appeal open to me. To have applied statewide the decisions of the two
cases heard in Superior Court, in my opinion, would have placed us
clearly out of compliance with the Wagner-Peyser Act and would have
immediately opened the way for the Secretary of Labor, were he so
inclined, to notify the Governor of such noncompliance, set a date for
hearing, and issue his finding. The impact of noncompliance under
the Wagner-Peyser Act is clear: the withdrawal of some $11 million
a year of administrative funds which finance our employment service
program or, as a corollary, the taking over by the Federal Government
of its operation. Thus far, the cases which have come before
the courts have involved only the issue of referral where the job is
vacant due to a strike- condition (1) in the Regulation of the Secretary.
None has yet arisen under condition (2), relating to referral
to jobs "the filling of which is an issue in a labor dispute".

Here the problem is essentially one of defining the word "filling".

Should it be defined in a narrow sense to include only such elements
as job specifications, union membership, union jurisdiction, and
the like? Or should it have a broader connotation of including wage
demands and other factors not necessarily associated with the
mechanics of "filling" the job. Because of the uncertainty
of this definition, I solicited the interpretation of the Secretary
of Labor. He has advised me that the narrower interpretation is the
proper one; that is, that if wages, for example, is the only issue
in a labor dispute, and no workers have left their jobs because of the
dispute, we may continue to make referrals.
_9._ Martin and Stendler present evidence that infants and young
children can and do solve many problems at a relatively simple perceptual
level simply by combining objects and counting them. After they
have developed concepts, they are free from the necessity of manipulating
objects; they do symbolically what they once had to do concretely.
The ability to think seems to increase consistently with age. One
experiment showed the greatest one-year difference occurring between
the eleventh and twelfth years. _10._ Many studies indicate that
elementary-school children's interests cover the whole field of science;
that their questions indicate a genuine interest in social processes
and events; and that as they mature their interests and capabilities
change and broaden. _EMOTIONAL CHARACTERISTICS_ How a child
feels about himself, about other people, and about the tasks confronting
him in school may have as much influence on his success in school
as his physical and intellectual characteristics. A considerable amount
of evidence exists to show that an unhappy and insecure child is not
likely to do well in school subjects. Emotional maturity is the result
of many factors, the principal ones being the experiences of the
first few years of the child's life. However, the teacher who understands
the influence of emotions on behavior may be highly influential
in helping pupils gain confidence, security, and satisfaction.
Concerning this responsibility of the teacher, suggestions for helping
children gain better control of the emotions are presented in Chapter
11. The following generalizations about the emotional characteristics
of elementary-school children may be helpful. _1._ Typically,
the young child's emotional reactions last for a relatively short
time, as contrasted to those of an adult. _2._ As the child grows
older, his emotional reactions lead to "moods", or emotional states
drawn out over a period of time and expressed slowly, rather than in
short, abrupt outbursts. _3._ Studies of the growth and decline
of children's fears indicate that fears due to strange objects, noises,
falling, and unexpected movement decline during the preschool years,
but that fears of the dark, of being alone, and of imaginary creatures
or robbers increase. _4._ Ridiculing a child for being afraid
or forcing him to meet the feared situation alone are poor ways of dealing
with the problem; more effective solutions include explanations,
the example of another child, or conditioning by associating the feared
object, place, or person with something pleasant. _5._ Children
need help in learning to control their emotions. The young child
learns from parents and teachers that temper tantrums, screaming, kicking,
and hitting will not get him what he wants; the older child learns
that intense emotional outbursts will not win approval by his peers,
and, therefore, makes a real effort to control his emotions. _6._
Children differ widely in their emotional responses. Among infants
the patterns of emotional responses are similar; as the influence
of learning and environment are felt, emotional behavior becomes individualized.
_SOCIAL CHARACTERISTICS_ Although no national norms exist
for the social development of children, the teacher can find a great
deal of information concerning types of social behavior normally displayed
by children at various age levels. The following summary will
give the student some idea about the social characteristics of elementary-school
children; the student will certainly want to explore more
deeply into the fascinating study of immature individuals, struggling
to meet their developmental needs, and at the same time trying to learn
the rules of the game in the ever-expanding number of groups in which
they hold membership. _1._ During early childhood, children
are more interested in the approval of their parents and teachers than
they are in the approval of other children; after they have been in
school a few years, their interest in playmates of their own age increases,
and their interest in adults decreases; the child who had once
considered it a treat to accompany his parents on picnics and family
gatherings now considers it a bore. In late childhood the influence
of the group on the social behavior of the child continues to increase;
the group sets the styles in clothing, the kind of play engaged in,
and the ideals of right and wrong behavior. _2._ In early childhood
the choice of a companion is likely to be for another child of his
own age or a year or two older, who can do the things he likes to do;
such factors as sex, intelligence, and status in the group do not
influence his choice much at this time. _3._ In later childhood,
an interest in team games replaces individual play; loyalty to the group,
a feeling of superiority over those who are not members, and unwillingness
to play with members of the opposite sex become dominant traits.
_4._ During early childhood boys tease and bully, on the average,
more than girls; those who feel inferior or insecure engage in
these activities more than do well-adjusted children. _5._ During
late childhood boys like to tease, jostle, and talk smart to girls;
girls, who are more mature than boys, frown upon the youthful antics
of boys of their own age. _6._ By the time pupils reach the sixth
grade, their ethical and moral standards are fairly well developed;
they exhibit a keen interest in social, political, and economic problems,
but they frequently have vague and incorrect notions about the
terms they use rather glibly in their routine school work. _7._ Between
the ages of two and four years, negativism or resistance to adult
authority is noticeable; after the fourth year it begins to decline.
However, as we have seen, in later childhood the child begins to
substitute the standards of the peer group for those of parents and teachers.
_8._ The elementary-school child grows gradually in his ability
to work in groups. The child in the primary grades can play harmoniously
with one companion, but his desire to be first in everything
gets him into trouble when the group gets larger; he wants to be with
people, but he hasn't yet learned to cooperate. In the middle grades,
however, he begins to participate more effectively in group activities
such as selecting a leader, helping to make plans and carry on
group activities, and setting up rules governing the enterprise.

#WHY
THE TEACHER SHOULD STUDY THE INDIVIDUAL PUPIL#

Much progress has

been made in the last two decades in developing techniques for understanding
children, yet in almost any classroom today can be found children
whose needs are not being met by the school program. Some are failing
to achieve as much as their ability would permit; others never
seem able to enter fully into the life of the classroom. These children
have been described as those who were trying to say something to adults
who did not understand. Many school systems now employ school
psychologists and child guidance specialists. These specialists
perform valuable services by helping teachers learn to identify children
who need special attention, by suggesting ways of meeting the needs
of individual children in the regular classroom, and by providing clinical
services for severely maladjusted children. It is the classroom
teacher, however, who has daily contacts with pupils, and who is in a
unique position to put sound psychological principles into practice.
Indeed, a study of the individual child is an integral part of the work
of the elementary-school teacher, rather than merely an additional
chore. Teachers and administrators in many elementary schools
have assumed that dividing the pupils in any grade into groups on the
basis of test scores solves the problem of meeting the needs of individuals.
What they should recognize is that children who have been placed
in one of these groups on a narrow academic basis still differ widely
in attributes that influence success, and that they still must be
treated as individuals. Although the teacher must be concerned with
maintaining standards, he must also be concerned about understanding
differences in ability, background, and experience. _FACTORS THAT INHIBIT
LEARNING AND LEAD TO MALADJUSTMENT_ Studies conducted in various
sections of the United States indicate that many children in elementary
schools are maladjusted emotionally, and that many of them are
failing to make satisfactory progress in school subjects. One study,
which involved 1,524 pupils in grades one to six, found that 12 percent
of the pupils were seriously maladjusted and that 23 percent were reading
a year below capacity. It is apparent, therefore, that the teacher
needs to know what factors have a vital bearing on the learning and
adjustment of children. When a child fails to meet the standards of
the school in his rate of learning, insecurity, unhappiness, and other
forms of maladjustment frequently follow. These maladjustments in
turn inhibit learning, and a vicious cycle is completed. It is
easy for the teacher to rationalize that the child who is not achieving
in accordance with his known ability is just plain lazy, or that the
child who lacks interest in school, who dislikes the teacher, or who
is overaggressive is a hopeless delinquent. The causes of retardation
and maladjustment may be found in physical factors, such as defective
speech or hearing, impaired vision, faulty motor coordination, a frail
constitution, chronic disease, malnutrition, and glandular malfunctioning.
They may be caused by poor health habits, such as faulty eating
and sleeping habits. They may be related to mental immaturity or lack
of aptitude for certain types of school work. The curriculum may
be too difficult for some and too easy for others. Teaching methods,
learning materials, and promotion policies may inhibit learning and lead
to maladjustments for some children. Unwholesome family relations,
broken homes, and undesirable community influences may also be contributing
factors. This is only a minimum list of the factors that inhibit
learning and contribute to maladjustment among children. Moreover,
these conditions do not influence all children in the same manner. A
vision handicap that may produce nervous tension and reading
disability
for one child may spur another child on to even greater achievement
in reading. An impoverished home that may discourage one child may constitute
the motivation causing another to work harder for successful
achievement in school. At any rate, the teacher who recognizes common
causes of retardation and maladjustment can frequently do a great deal
to eliminate the causes of pupil discouragement, failure, and maladjustment.

#SOURCES OF INFORMATION ABOUT CHILDREN#

Successful teaching
involves getting enough information about each pupil to understand
why he behaves as he does in certain situations and how his achievement
in school is being influenced by various factors in his environment.
The classroom teacher cannot be expected to be as proficient in the
use of the techniques of child study as the clinical psychologist;
he cannot be expected to administer all the tests and gather all the information
needed about each child in his classroom. He can be expected,
however, to examine and interpret the information already available;
to refine and extend his own techniques for studying individual children;
and to utilize opportunities, arising in connection with regular
classroom activities, for gaining a better understanding of his
pupils. This section deals with some of the sources of information that
can be tapped by the classroom teacher; Chapter 15 provides more
detailed information about specific techniques used in evaluating pupil
progress. _CUMULATIVE RECORDS_ Most school systems today maintain
a system of cumulative records of pupils. These records, when systematically
maintained, provide much information about the children, which
the teacher can use in guidance, instruction, grouping, and reporting
to parents. Each teacher has in his classroom a metal file, equipped
with a lock, which is used to store cumulative record folders. During
summer vacation periods these records are stored in the office of
the principal. Only the teacher and other professional personnel are
permitted to see or use these records. Each new teacher to whom the
pupil goes is expected to study the information in the cumulative record
and to bring it up to date. Some school systems provide written instructions
to principals and teachers designating when certain information
is to be recorded on cumulative record forms and explaining how
the information is to be summarized and used.

THE SUMMARY REPORT ON DESEGREGATION PROGRESS IN EDUCATION IN

THE MIDDLE-SOUTH REGION, 1959-1960" clearly shows two pieces of
information. The Summary Report, which was prepared for this Conference,
indicates, first, that actual or pending school desegregation is
increasing; second, that both actual and pending desegregation is,
with few exceptions, the product or result of court order. The Report
together with other information suggests that desegregation in the
schools is slow. The Middle-South Region, as defined by the
National Association of Intergroup Relations Officials (~NAIRO),
consists of the states of Kentucky, Maryland, Tennessee, West
Virginia, Delaware, Virginia and the District of Columbia. The
states and the Nation's Capital all have some desegregation, in
fact some dating back to 1954; but the region also embraces some of
the staunchest opposition. Desegregation has been opposed by massive
resistance, interposition, pupil assignment (with no assignments of
Negro children), and hate bombings.

#DESEGREGATION AND COURT ORDER#

Now let's look at the evidence that shows the increase in desegregation
and such increase as a result of court order. First <Kentucky>.
Elementary school desegregation came to Owen and Union Counties,
which already had high school desegregation. The action was a result
of a court order, the citation for which (and for other court action
mentioned in this paper) is taken from the Summary Report for this
Conference. In <Maryland> the Harford County Board of Education
had prepared a desegregation plan which the Court approved but
which a plaintiff had challenged; thus, county school board and Federal
court joined hands here to promote school desegregation. Additional
school desegregation in <Tennessee> resulted from a court
order opening a school serving children of military personnel. Similarly,
further desegregation may come from suits pending in three Tennessee
cities, Chattanooga, Knoxville, and Memphis. In <West Virginia>
the number of white and Negro children attending the same school
has increased almost twofold. There are no court decisions here.

As in Maryland, a District court has approved an official plan

of school desegregation in <Delaware>. As a result of the State
Board of Education plan, Negro children entered heretofore white
elementary schools in five districts. The Third Circuit Court of
Appeals is reviewing an appeal from the plan. In <Virginia>
court orders led to desegregation in Charlottesville and Floyd Counties.
Desegregation in Pulaski County is pending because of court
order, although date of admission is not yet determined. Negro parents
have filed application for admission of additional children to schools
in Alexandria, Arlington, Fairfax, and Warren Counties. Desegregation
can also result from additional suits brought by Negro plaintiffs
against school boards in Newport News, Fairfax County, Arlington
County, and Norfolk. As a school district, the <District
of Columbia> has had desegregated schools since 1954, shortly
after the Supreme Court decision. This recapitulation makes
it clear that school desegregation continues, including the Old Dominion
State, in spite of its stern resistance. The record is clear that
increase in school desegregation last year came largely as a result
of a court order; that on the immediate horizon, if further large-scale
(relatively speaking) desegregation comes, it will result from court
orders on suits filed in several Middle-South states. Knowledge
that thousands of school districts are involved and observation that
school desegregation has occurred in only a handful in 1959-1960 leads
to a conclusion that desegregation-from-court-order is slow.
Before turning to my views as to the problems and issues before us at
this Regional Conference, I wish to note a small item in the Summary
Report as it refers to the District of Columbia. That reference
in the Report is "continuation of the trend toward an all-Negro
school system", a remark apparently occasioned by the increase of Negro
school population from 74.1 per cent to 76.7 per cent. I see no
real prospects for an all-Negro school population. West of Rock Creek
Park is still monolithically white and is in fact increasingly white
as a result of Georgetown's conversion-by-renovation housing program.
Nearby Foggy Bottom is ousting Negroes. The large acreage
in the Southwest Redevelopment area beckons white people- what with
high-priced town houses and elevator apartments. The Capitol Hill
rehabilitation, like Foggy Bottom, replaces Negroes with whites (but
also replaces some whites with other whites). The sharpest
break with tradition, the past and present of "White Ring Around
a Black Core", may come with the opening of nearby Montgomery County
suburbs to Negro residents and, presumably, the consequent conclusion
of some whites that they cannot escape the Negro by fleeing to
the suburbs. In fact, short of fleeing to Warrenton, Virginia, or Rockville,
Maryland, white people may have to live with Negroes. All
of this must be taken into account before the image of an "all-Negro"
D&C& public school system is conjured up.
#PROBLEMS TO
SOLVE#

From the Summary Report before us at this Conference, a number

of problems are apparent. They vex us and perplex us but generally
do not divide us like the issues which follow the problems.
First, how can we step up the desegregation movement? It is slow.
I believe we all want more schools where white and Negro together
can and do attend. I believe we all want no child denied admission to
a school on account of his color. In general, members of ~NAIRO
would certainly want a child admitted to a school nearest his residence
or within his residence zone. How to achieve this objective is
a problem, but we are not divided on what we want. Second, as
we increase the number of desegregated school districts and schools themselves,
how can we achieve this action through school board action?
It may be county school board or state school board action, as well
as that of municipal school boards. Correlatively, can we reduce the
role of the district courts, so that the action is that of the people
of the community or other school district and not that of the law court?
This is a problem, and I believe there is little difference of
opinion that wherever possible a local school board should devise and
effect a plan of desegregation. Third, how can we insure a systematic
and continuing group relations education in the schools? Not
simply a brief program when the schools are actually desegregated but
a continuing program that also promotes integration, that encourages
the children and teachers not to look at each other as white or Negro,
but as human beings. Again the problem is how to get it done and
in what form to offer the group relations education; not whether it
should be done. Fourth, in the segregated school system, during
the period before desegregation, how can we assure equal opportunity?
In fact, in the desegregated school system which may have a good
many schools with all-Negro population, how can we assure equal opportunity?
This is a problem, but we are not divided over its importance
or by its existence. Fifth, in the segregated school system
or in the all-Negro or all-white schools, how can we encourage better
group relations or an improved attitude toward people who do not belong
to the group? Can we help children adjust to "images of other
children" when the latter are not actually present.

#NOW, THE ISSUES#

If we have five problems whose solution we seek in relatively

united fashion, then there are twice as many issues which, I judge, sharply
divide us, intergroup relations practitioners and lay people. _ISSUE
NO& 1. PUPIL ASSIGNMENT._ Since on the one hand school
desegregation
has come in Virginia hand-in-glove with pupil assignment, shall
we support the plan? On the basis of pupil assignment criteria,
Judge Albert Bryan has assigned Negro children to formerly white
schools in Arlington and Alexandria, Virginia. Shall we support pupil
assignment? On the other hand, looking at the larger picture,
is it true that pupil assignment has effectively cut off, blocked, or
reduced school desegregation to a "trickle"? Shall we therefore
oppose the plan? This question is an issue because it likely divides
us into two camps- those for or against pupil assignment. _ISSUE
NO& 2.
TEACHER ASSIGNMENT IN ORDER TO DESEGREGATE._ In large cities
like Baltimore, Louisville, and Washington, D&C&, should school
desegregation be extended to all-Negro and all-white schools by
assigning white and Negro teachers, respectively? On the one hand
do we argue the Supreme Court decision required only that a <child>
not be denied admission to a school on account of his race? Or should
we argue that if we want adjustment of children to children of different
races and that that is impossible in an all-something-or-the-other
school, we must at least provide him some opportunity to adjust
to people of another race within the school namely, to a teacher of another
race. We can argue that where residence makes pupil desegregation
impossible teacher assignment can create a partially desegregated
situation. _ISSUE NO& 3.
THE PLAINTIFF IN SCHOOL DESEGREGATION CASES._
The earlier part of my statement deals with the court orders that
resulted in desegregation. In each instance the plaintiff was a private
citizen. In thousands of school districts, indeed, in the entire
State of Mississippi, no plaintiff has come forth. And I have established
that the action of municipal, county, or state school boards
or boards of education is small, infinitesimally small in comparison
with the number of districts. Is the requirement that the plaintiff be
a person actually denied admission to a school a sound requirement?
Should Congress authorize the Attorney General to file suit to accomplish
admission of a child to a school to which he is denied entrance?
Even though in civil rights legislation in 1957 and 1960 the provision
for the Attorney General to act was eliminated, should we
nevertheless
support such a clause? This is an issue, for it divides
people rather sharply. _ISSUE NO& 4. WITHHOLDING OF FUNDS TO
SCHOOLS
THAT DENY CHILDREN ON ACCOUNT OF RACE._ This is the Powell Amendment,
which in 1957 divided even a "liberal" group like the American
Veterans Committee (~AVC). Should we support a clause in Federal
school construction or school assistance legislation that would
deny Federal funds to a school district that denies admission to a
child on account of his race? This is softer than earlier Powell amendments
which would have denied funds to all segregated school districts.
There is nonetheless considerable argument against the clause,
softened though it be, on the grounds that Federal aid is so necessary
to the public schools. The Federal funds limitation enlists the support
of many, the opposition of quite a few. _ISSUE NO& 5.
REQUIRED
PUBLIC EDUCATION._ Should a political subdivision, state or county
or municipality, be required to furnish public education? For the
school year, 1959-1960, the Prince Edward County (Virginia) Board
of Supervisors voted not to provide funds for public education, and
the school board therefore could provide no public education- for white
or Negro children. Is public education in this American democracy
of such importance that no child should be denied public education?
Or is this subject a matter of self-determination, a matter of states
rights or county rights? If people don't want to provide public
education, should they be forced to do so? Even if we marshal substantial
agreement behind mandatory public education, we likely cannot
expect that all the states will enact the legislation. Should the
requirement, which must therefore be Federal in nature, be legislated
by the United States Congress? Or must it become law by amendment
of the United States Constitution? We actually have two issues
in this question- goal and method. _ISSUE NO& 6. FEDERAL
RESPONSIBILITY
FOR EDUCATION OF THE CITIZENS._ If the above issue is settled
by requiring public education for all citizens, Issue No& 6 may
be moot. If, on the other hand, it is not settled, or while it is being
debated and resolved, does the Federal government have a responsibility
in situations like that in Prince Edward County? Nearly
half the children still receive no education. Must or should the Federal
government help? Should the government directly provide education
for the children who want public education?

The next question is whether board members favor their own social
classes in their roles as educational policy-makers. On the whole,
it appears that they do not favor their own social classes in an explicit
way. Seldom is there an issue in which class lines can be clearly
drawn. A hypothetical issue of this sort might deal with the establishment
of a free public junior college in a community where there already
was a good private college which served the middle-class youth adequately
but was too expensive for working-class youth. In situations
of this sort the board generally favors the expansion of free education.
Campbell studied the records of 172 school board members in twelve
western cities over the period of 1931-40 and found "little or no
relationship between certain social and economic factors and school
board competence", as judged by a panel of professional educators who
studied the voting records on educational issues. The few cases
of clear favoritism along social-class lines are as likely as not
to involve representatives of the working class on the school board who
favor some such practice as higher wages for janitors rather than pay
increases for teachers, and such issues are not issues of educational
policy. In general, it appears that trustees and board members
attempt to represent the public interest in their administration of
educational policy, and this is made easier by the fact that the dominant
values of the society are middle-class values, which are generally
thought
to be valid for the entire society. There have been very few cases
of explicit conflict of interest between the middle class and any
other class in the field of educational policy. If there were more such
cases, it would be easier to answer the question whether the policy-makers
favor their own social classes. There is currently a major
controversy of public education in which group interests and values
are heavily engaged. This is the issue of segregated schools in the
South. In this case it is primarily a matter of conflict of racial
groups rather than social-class groups. Thus, the white middle and
lower classes are arrayed against the Negro middle and lower classes.
This conflict may be resolved in a way which will suit white middle-class
people better than it suits white lower-class people. If this happens,
there may be some class conflict in the South, with school boards
and school teachers taking the middle-class position.

#THE EDUCATIONAL
PROFESSION#

The members of the educational profession have

a major voice in the determination of educational policy, their position
being strongest in the universities. They are mostly upper-middle-
and lower-middle-class people, with a few in the upper class. Do they
make class-biased decisions? In a society dominated by middle-class
values and working in an institution which transmits and strengthens
these social values, it is clear that the educational profession
must work for the values which are characteristic of the society.
There is no problem here. The problem arises, if it does arise, when
the educator has to make a choice or a decision within the area of his
professional competence, but which bears some relation to the social
structure. For instance, in giving school grades or in making recommendations
for the award of a college scholarship, does he consciously
or unconsciously favor students of one or another social class? Again,
in deciding on the content and method of his teaching, does he favor
a curriculum which will make his students stronger competitors in the
race for higher economic status, or does he favor a curriculum which
strengthens students in other ways? The answers to questions
such as these certainly depend to some extent upon the educator's
own social-class position and also upon his social history, as well as
upon his personality and what he conceives his mission to be as an educator.
In a set of case studies of teachers with various social-class
backgrounds, Wattenberg illustrates a variety of approaches to students
and to teaching which depend upon the teacher's personality as
well as on his social-class background. One upward-mobile teacher may
be a hard taskmaster for lower-class pupils because she wants them to
develop the attitudes and skills that will enable them to climb, while
another upward-mobile teacher may be a very permissive person with
lower-class pupils because he knows their disadvantages and deprivations
at home, and he hopes to encourage them by friendly treatment.

One social-class factor which plays a large part in educational policy

today is the fact that a great many school and college teachers are
upward mobile from urban lower-class and lower-middle-class families.
Their own experience in the social system influences their work and
attitudes as teachers. While this influence is a complex matter, depending
upon personality factors in the individual as well as upon his
social-class experience, there probably are some general statements about
social-class background and educational policy that can be made with
a fair degree of truth. Teachers who have been upward mobile
probably see education as most valuable for their students if it serves
students as it has served them; that is, they are likely to favor
a kind of education that has vocational-advancement value. This does
not necessarily
mean that such teachers will favor vocational education,
as contrasted with liberal education, but they are likely to favor
an approach to liberal education which has a maximal vocational-advancement
value, as against a kind of "pure" liberal education that
is not designed to help people get better jobs. There is no doubt
that higher education since World War /2, has moved away from
"pure" liberal education toward greater emphasis on technology and
specialization. There are several causes for this, one being rapid economic
development with increasing numbers of middle-class positions
requiring engineering or scientific training. But another cause may
lie in the experience of so many new postwar faculty members with their
own use of education as a means of social advancement. Compared
with the college and university faculty members of the period from
1900 to 1930, the new postwar faculty members consist of more children
of immigrants and more children
of urban working-class fathers. Their experience is quite in contrast
with that of children of upper- and upper-middle-class native-born
parents, who are more likely to regard education as good for its own
sake and to discount the vocational emphases in the curriculum.

#THE
"PUBLIC INTEREST" GROUPS#

Educational policies are formed by

several groups who are officially or unofficially appointed to act in
the public interest. Legislators are one such group, and state legislators
have major responsibility for educational legislation. They generally
vote so as to serve their own constituency, and if the constituency
should be solidly middle class or solidly lower class, they might
be expected to vote and work for middle- or for lower-class interests
in education. However, there are relatively few such political constituencies,
and, as has been pointed out, there is seldom a clear-cut distinction
between the educational interests of one social class and those
of another. Another public interest group is the commission
of laymen or educators which is appointed to study an educational problem
and to make recommendations. Generally these commissions work
earnestly to represent the interest of the entire society, as they conceive
it. Nevertheless, their conclusions and recommendations cannot
please everybody, and they often represent a particular economic or political
point of view. For instance, there have been two Presidential
Commissions on higher education since World War /2,. President
Truman's Commission on Higher Education tended to take a liberal,
expansionist position, while President Eisenhower's Committee
on Education Beyond the High School was slightly more conservative.
Both Commissions consisted of upper-middle- and upper-class people,
who attempted to act in the public interest. An example of a
more definite class bias is noted in proceedings of the Commission on
the Financing of Higher Education sponsored by the Association of
American Universities and supported by the Rockefeller Foundation
and the Carnegie Corporation. This Commission recommended against
the use of federal government funds for the assistance of private universities
and against a broad program of government-supported scholarships.
This might be said to be an upper- or an upper-middle-class bias,
but the Commission published as one of its staff studies a book by
Byron S& Hollingshead entitled <Who Should Go to College?>
which recommended a federal government scholarship program. Furthermore,
the Commission set up the Council for Financial Aid to Education
as a means of encouraging private business to increase its support
of private higher education. Thus, the Commission acted with a
sense of social responsibility within the area of its own convictions
about the problem of government support to private education. Then
there are the trustees and officers of the great educational foundations,
who inevitably exert an influence on educational decisions by
their support or refusal to support various educational programs, experiments,
and demonstrations. These people are practically always upper-
or upper-middle-class persons, who attempt to act in what they regard
as the interest of the entire society. Finally there are
the parent organizations and the laymen's organizations such as the
National Association of Parents and Teachers, and the Citizens Committee
on Public Schools. These have an upper-middle-class leadership
and a middle-class membership, with rare exceptions, where working-class
parents are active in local P&-T&A& matters. Like
the
other policy-making groups, these are middle class in their educational
attitudes, and they attempt to act in the general public interest,
as they see it. In general it appears that educational decisions
and educational policies are made by people who intend to act in the
interests of the society as a whole. They are predominantly middle-
and upper-class people, and undoubtedly share the values and attitudes
of those classes. They may be unaware of the existence of lower-class
values and consequently fail to take them into account. But there
is very little frank and conscious espousal of the interests of any one
social class by the people who have the power to make decisions in education.
They think of themselves as trustees for the entire society
and try to serve the entire society.
#ATTEMPTS TO INFLUENCE SOCIAL
STRUCTURE THROUGH EDUCATION#

Educational policy in the United States

has as an explicit goal the maximization of economic and cultural
opportunity.
In so far as this goal is achieved, the society becomes more
fluid, artificial barriers to social mobility are reduced, and people
at the lower end of the social hierarchy share more fully in the
material
and cultural goods of society. On the other hand, there is a counterbalancing
purpose in education which is to pass on the advantages
of the parents to their children. This leads to efforts at exclusiveness
through private schools and to the maintenance of social stratification
in the schools. Both of these purposes exist side by side without much
overt conflict under present conditions.

#MAXIMIZING ECONOMIC AND

CULTURAL OPPORTUNITY#

The broad expansion of free education results

both in raising the average economic and cultural level of the society
and in promoting fluidity within the social structure. Fifty years
ago the general raising of the school-leaving age to sixteen was an
example of this movement. During the past decade the program has been
carried on through expansion of free higher education in state universities,
state colleges, and community colleges. The reaffirmation of
American faith in the comprehensive high school, as expressed in the
Conant study, is another indication of the liveliness of the ideal of
maximizing opportunity through the equalizing of educational opportunity.

The recent federal government's student-loan program is

another step in the direction of making higher education more available
to lower-status youth. It is probably more effective than the expanded
scholarship programs of the past decade, because the scholarship programs
mainly aided the students with the best academic records (who
were usually middle-class), and these students tended to use the scholarship
funds to go to more expensive colleges. Meanwhile, the private
colleges have increased their tuition rates so much that they have raised
an economic barrier which dwarfs their scholarship funds. The gains
in educational opportunity during the past decade have taken place
largely in the publicly supported institutions.

Unfortunately, however, and for reasons to be discussed in the

following chapter, no rate relationships can be made completely nondiscriminatory
as long as all or some of the rates must be set above marginal
costs in order to yield adequate revenues. And this fact may explain
some of the disagreements among the experts as to the more rational
formulas for the apportionment of total costs among different units
of service. One such disagreement, which will receive attention in
this next chapter, concerns the question whether rates for different kinds
of service, in order to avoid the attribute of discrimination, must
be made directly <proportional> to marginal costs, or whether they
should be based instead on <differences> in marginal costs. Here,
the choice is that between the horns of a dilemma.

#TWO MAJOR TYPES

OF FULLY DISTRIBUTED COST ANALYSIS#
_1. THE DOUBLE-STEP TYPE_
Despite
an ambiguity due to its failure clearly to define "relative costs",
the above exposition of fully distributed costing goes about as
far as one can go toward expressing the basic philosophy of the practice.
For more explicit expositions, one must distinguish different types
of analyses. By all means the most important distinction is that
between those total-cost apportionments which superimpose a distribution
of admittedly unallocable cost residues on estimates of incremental
or marginal costs, and those other apportionments which recognize no
difference between true cost allocation and mere total-cost distribution.

The first, or double-step, type might also be called the "railroad

type" because of its application to railroads (and other
transportation agencies) by the Cost Section of the Interstate Commerce
Commission. The Cost Section distinguishes between (directly)
variable costs and constant costs in a manner noted in the preceding
chapter. The variable costs alone are assigned to the different units
of freight traffic as representing "long-run out-of-pocket costs"-
a term with a meaning here not distinctly different from that of
the economist's "long-run marginal costs". There remains a residue
of total costs, or total "revenue requirements" which, since
it is found to behave as if it were constant over substantial variations
in traffic density, is strictly unallocable on a cost-finding basis.
Nevertheless, because the Cost Section has felt impelled to make
some kind of a distribution of total costs, it has apportioned this residue,
which it sometimes calls "burden", among the units of carload
traffic on a basis (partly ton, partly ton-mile) which is concededly
quite arbitrary from the standpoint of cost determination. In recent
years, this burden (which includes allowances for revenue deficiencies
in the passenger business and in less-than-carload freight traffic!)
has amounted to about one third of those total revenue requirements
which the carload freight business is supposed to be called upon to
meet. Since this book is concerned only incidentally with railroad
rates, it will not attempt to analyze the methods by which the staff
of the Interstate Commerce Commission has estimated out-of-pocket
costs and apportioned residue costs. Suffice it to say that the usefulness
of the latter apportionment is questionable. But in any event,
full credit should be given to the Cost Section for its express and
overt recognition of a vital distinction too often ignored in utility-cost
analyses: namely, that between a cost allocation designed to
reflect the actual behavior of costs in response to changes in rates
of output of different classes of utility service; and a mere cost apportionment
which somehow spreads among the classes and units of service
even those costs that are strictly unallocable from the standpoint
of specific cost determination. _2. THE SINGLE-STEP TYPE_ We turn
now to a type of fully distributed cost analysis which, unlike the "railroad
type", draws no distinction between cost allocation and cost
apportionment: the single-step type. It might be called the "public
utility" type because of the considerable use to which it has
been put in gas and electric utility rate cases. Here no attempt is
made, first to determine out-of-pocket or marginal costs and then to superimpose
on these costs "reasonably distributed" residues of total
costs. Instead, all of the total costs are treated as variable costs,
although these costs are divided into costs that are deemed to be
functions of different variables. Moreover, whereas in Interstate Commerce
Commission parlance "variable cost" means a cost deemed to
vary in <direct> proportion to changes in rate of output, in the type
of analysis now under review "variable cost" has been used more
broadly, so as to cover costs which, while a function of some one variable
(such as output of energy, or number of customers), are not necessarily
a <linear> function. As already noted in an earlier
paragraph, the more familiar cost analyses of utility enterprises or
utility systems divide the total costs among a number of major classes
of service, such as residential, commercial, industrial power, street
lighting, etc&. This "grand division" permits many costs to be
assigned in their entirety to some one class, such as street lighting,
or at least to be excluded completely from some important class or classes.
High-tension industrial power service, for example, would not
be charged with any share of the maintenance costs or capital costs of
the low-tension distribution lines. But the major portions of the total
costs of a utility business are common or joint to all, or nearly
all, classes of customers; and these costs must somehow be apportioned
among the various classes and then must somehow be reapportioned among
the units of service in order to report unit costs than can serve
as tentative measures of reasonable rates. The general basis on
which these common costs are assigned to differently measured units
of service will be illustrated by the following highly simplified problem
of an electric-utility cost analysis. But before turning to this
example, we must distinguish two subtypes of analysis, both of which belong
to the single-step type rather than to the double-step type.

In the first subtype, the analyst (following the practice of railroad

analysis in this particular respect) distributes both total operating
costs and total annual capital costs (including an allowance for
"cost of capital" or "fair rate of return") among the different
classes and units of service. Here, an apportionment, say, of $5,000,000
of the total costs to residential service as a class would include
an allowance of perhaps 6 per cent as the cost of whatever capital
is deemed to have been devoted to the service of the residential consumers.

But in the second subtype, which I take to be the one

more frequently applied, only the operating expenses and not the "cost
of capital" or "fair return" are apportioned directly among the
various classes of service. To be sure, the capital investments in
(or, alternatively, the estimated "fair values" of) the plant and
equipment are apportioned among the different classes, as are also the
gross revenues received from the sales of the different services. But
any resulting excess of revenues received from a given class of service
over the operating costs imputed to this class is reported as a "return"
realized on the capital investment attributed to the same
service. Thus, during any given year (a) if the revenues from the residential
service are $7,000,000, (b) if the operating expenses imputed
to this class of service come to $5,000,000, and (c) if the net investment
in (or value of) the plant and equipment deemed devoted to this
service amounts to $30,000,000, the cost analyst will report that residential
service, in the aggregate, has yielded a return of $2,000,000
or 6-2/3 per cent. Other services will show different rates of return,
some probably much lower and some higher. There are obvious
reasons of convenience for this practice of excluding "cost of capital"
from the direct apportionment of annual costs among the different
classes of service- notably, the avoidance of the controversial question
what rate of return should be held to constitute "cost of capital"
or "fair rate of return". But the practice is likely to be
misleading, since it may seem to support a conclusion that, as long
as the revenues from any class of service cover the imputed operating
expenses plus <some> return on capital investment, however low, the
rates of charge for this service are compensatory. Needless to say, any
such inference would be quite unwarranted. For the reason just
suggested, I shall assume the use of the first subtype of fully distributed
cost apportionment in the following simplified example. That
is to say, an allowance for "cost of capital" will be assumed to
be included directly in the cost apportionment.

#THREE-PART ANALYSIS
OF THE COSTS OF AN ELECTRIC UTILITY BUSINESS#

In order to simplify
the exposition of a typical fully apportioned cost analysis, let us
assume the application of the analysis to an electric utility company
supplying a single city with power generated by its own steam-generation
plant. Let us also assume the existence of only one class or type
of service, all of which is supplied at the same voltage, phase, etc&
to residential, commercial, and industrial customers. This latter
assumption will permit us to center attention on the most controversial
aspect of modern public utility cost analysis- the distinction among
costs that are functions of outputs of the same service measured along
different dimensions. Since the company under review is supplying
what we are here regarding as only one kind of service, we might
suppose that the problem of total cost apportionment would be very
simple; indeed, that it would be limited to a finding of the total annual
operating and capital costs of the business, followed by a calculation
of this total in terms of annual cost per kilowatt-hour of consumption.
In fact, however, the problem is not so simple. For a statement
of costs per kilowatt-hour would ignore the fact that many of these
costs are not a function of kilowatt-hour output (or consumption) of
energy. A recognition of multiple cost functions is therefore required.

The simplest division, and the one most frequently used (with
subdivisions) in gas and electric rate cases, is a threefold division
of the total operating and capital costs into "customer costs",
"energy" or "volumetric costs", and "demand" or "capacity"
costs. If this threefold division of costs were to have its counterpart
in the actual rates of charge for service, as it actually does
have in some rates, there would result a three-part rate for any one
class of service. For example, the monthly bill of a residential
consumer might be the sum of a $1 customer charge, a $5 charge for 250
kilowatt-hours of energy at 2@ per kilowatt-hour, and a $2 charge for
a maximum demand of 2 kilowatts during the month at the rate of $1
per kilowatt- a total bill of $8 for that month. But our present interest
lies in the measurement of costs of service, and only indirectly
in rates that may or may not be designed to cover these costs. Let
us therefore consider each of the three types of cost in turn, recognizing
that this simplified classification is used only for illustrative
purposes; costs actually vary in much more complex ways. _1. THE
CUSTOMER COSTS_ These are those operating and capital costs found to
vary with number of customers regardless, or almost regardless, of power
consumption. Included as a minimum are the costs of metering and
billing along with whatever other expenses the company must incur in
taking on another consumer. These minimum costs may come to $1 per month,
more or less, for residential and small commercial customers, although
they are substantially higher for large industrial users, who require
more costly connections and metering devices. While costs on this
order are sometimes separately charged for in residential and commercial
rates, in the form of a mere "service charge", they are more
frequently wholly or partly covered by a minimum charge which entitles
the consumer to a very small amount of gas or electricity with no further
payment. But the really controversial aspect of customer-cost
imputation arises because of the cost analyst's frequent practice
of including, not just those costs that can be definitely earmarked
as incurred for the benefit of specific customers but also a substantial
fraction of the annual maintenance and capital costs of the secondary
(low-voltage) distribution system- a fraction equal to the estimated
annual costs of a hypothetical system of minimum capacity.

The preconditions of sociology have remained largely unexamined

by the sociologist. Like primitive numbers in mathematics, the entire
axiological framework is taken to rest upon its operational worth.
But what is the operational worth of a sociology which mimetically reproduces
the idea of physical models? Is it not the task of philosophy
to see what intelligible meaning can be assigned to the most sacred
canons in social science? It has become painfully clear that the
very attempt to make the language of social research free of values by
erecting mathematical and physical models, is itself a conditioned response
to a world which pays a premium price for technological manipulation.

This push to confine the study of mass behaviour to the

measurements of parameters involved in differential equations has led
sociology perilously close to the reduction of the word "mass" to
mean a small group in which certain relations between all pairs of individuals
in such a group can be studied. (Cf& Rapoport, 1959:
ch& 11.) Here I think the role of the philosopher becomes apparent.
The simple pragmatic success of the sociology of small groups needs
to be questioned. For if the small group notion involves the implicit
claim that the phenomena of sociological investigations are of atomic
or subatomic proportions, the philosopher needs to know the extent to
which such entities are valid. The mere exploration of the unconscious
ground of present-day sociology offers a rich vein of philosophical
and logical investigation. (Cf& Brodbeck, 1959: Ch& 12.)

A parallel function for philosophy is the study of the relation

between perceptions experientially received and conceptions logically
formed. Philosophy can supply adequate criteria of meaning in the selection
of socially viable categories. This involves a sifting of the
empirical and rational elements entering into each social science statement.
Merton's functional sociology may have great practical use in
the study of different cultures, yet it is perfectly clear as Nagel
(1957:247-83) and Hempel (1959:271-307) indicate, that the concept
of function in sociology has been built up from physiological and biological
models, in which the notions of teleology, i&e&, metaphysical
purpose, are central. (Cf& Chapter /9,.) Functionalism as
a sociological credo is, therefore, not a direct consequence of observations,
but rather an indirect consequence of philosophical inference
and judgment. The purpose of this sort of philosophical study
of sociology is not to tyrannize but to clarify the principles of social
science. It is absurd to speak of philosophy as a superior enterprise
to sociology, since the former is a logical, rational discipline,
where sociology is essentially descriptive and empirical. Such a position
entails the negation of philosophy in its Platonic form as something
soaring above and embracing the empirical and mathematical sciences.
But contrary to Whitehead, philosophy is not a synonym for Plato.
The uses of philosophy as a logical clearing house are manifest to
any approach that does not descend to pure sensationalism. However,
when philosophy attempts to stand above the sciences, to dictate the
conditions of empirical research,
it becomes formal metaphysics; shaping
the contours of life to fit the needs of legends. The notion of philosophy
as Queen Bee may fit well with authoritarian modes of political
ideology, but it has been noted that the price of such an imperial
notion of philosophy is the frustration and flagellation of the social
sciences. (Cf& Wetter, 1952: Pt& /2, Ch& 5; Horowitz
1957b&.) Metaphysics is no longer a direct grappling with
nature as it was in antiquity. It has surrendered any claims of description
in favor of psychological accounts of nothingness, as in Heidegger's
system (1929). Science is mocked for wishing to know nothing
of Nothing, in a last ditch effort to save the gods at the expense
of men. It is not positivism which has isolated metaphysics from reality
by distinguishing between description and prescription. It is
simply revealing the state to which metaphysical thinking has fallen during
this century. Consider the traditional "four fields"
of philosophy: logic, ethics, epistemology and esthetics. It is a
commonplace that to the degree these special preserves of past philosophic
hunting grounds establish an empirical content and suitable methodological
criteria, they move away from philosophy as such. What is left
to traditional systems of philosophy is, in effect, only the history
of these fields prior to their becoming rigorous enough to abide by
the canons of scientific method. In this situation, philosophy has survived
by separating itself from metaphysics, by showing the ultimate
questions to be the meaningless questions. The relinquishing
by philosophy of pretentious claims to empirical priority gives it an
ability to treat problems of meaning and truth which in the past it was
unable to examine because of its missionary attitude to knowledge of
more humble sorts. In the new situation, philosophy is able to provide
the social sciences with the same guidance that mathematics offers
the physical sciences, a reservoir of logical relations that can be used
in framing hypotheses having explanatory and predictive value. Beyond
this, philosophy may urge the social sciences forward by asking the
type of question that falls outside the present scope of social inquiry,
but within its potential domain of relevance. In this connection,
it might be noted that the theory of games was a mathematical discovery
long before its uses in political science were exploited. Likewise,
Kant formulated the nebular hypothesis, according to which the solar
system was evolved from a rotating mass of incandescent gas, nearly
a half century before its scientific value was made plain by Laplace
in his <Systeme du Monde>. This does not mean that philosophy resolves
the problems it generates, any more so than Riemann's geometry
settled the physical status of the space-time continuum. But the forceful
presentation of new issues for the sciences to work on is itself
a monumental task. To those raised on Marcel's <Homo Viator>
and Heidegger's <das Nichtige>, this may seem a modest
role for philosophy. However, modesty and triviality are different qualities.
Philosophy conceived of as servant to the sciences might appear
as less dramatic than philosophy which jeers as the sciences evolve.
The ceaseless effort to understand and measure the distance mankind
has traversed since its primitive anthropological status offers a
more durable sort of drama. By clarifying fundamental premises in the
social sciences, and defining the logical problems emergent at the borderlands
of each new scientific discipline, philosophy can offer the
sort of distinction that can accelerate growth in human understanding.
Philosophy can prevent the working scientist from becoming slothful
and self-content by noting the assumptions and level at which a hypothesis
or theory is framed. The dissection of scientific theory, the examination
of a theory from the vantage-points of language, epistemology,
and ethics, is itself a distinct contribution to knowledge, no less
so because of its removal from empirical research. The realm
of science, whatever the degree of precision in formulations, covers
the range of prediction and explanation. (Cf& Hempel and Oppenheim,
1948:135-75.) Whatever philosophy is conceived to be, its rationalist,
logistic attitude to evidence should make it clear that it is
something other than science. For some forms of philosophy, this very
division between the empirical and the rational becomes a sign of the
metaphysical superiority of the latter. Bergson and Leroy announce
that "the secret is the center of a philosophy" and thereafter a
hundred followers declare secrecy a higher verity. This is simply a
confession of intellectual sterility spruced up to look virtuous. For
as Merleau-Ponty indicated (1953), it is not the secret which is important,
but the removal of secrecy. In this, philosophy and science
share a common goal. The hypostatization of the secret nonetheless guarantees
that the division of analytical and synthetic philosophies shall
not be overcome by even the most persuasive argument; for this
division is but an abstract representation of the social struggle between
mysticism and science. The mystification of metaphysical systems
does not imply the demise of philosophy, only the close of a philosophic
age which demanded metaphysics to be rational and logical. The
tenacity with which present metaphysical attitudes fetishize private
intuition offers the strongest evidence that the gulf between scientific
and delphic ways of philosophizing is built into the present conflict
over the limits and purpose of science, religion and ideology. (Cf&
McGlynn: 1958.) Scientific systems, and this includes even
the relation of mechanist to relativist physics, are built upon, refined
and corrected. Philosophic systems, by the very nature of their completeness,
are overthrown by rival systems. In addition to the incompleteness
of science and the completeness of metaphysics, they differ
in that science is essentially descriptive, while philosophy in its inherited
forms, tends to be goal-oriented, teleological and prescriptive.
The threadbare notion that belief, unlike behaviour, is not subject
to objective analysis, has placed intuitive metaphysics squarely against
the sociology of knowledge, since it is precisely the job of the
sociology of knowledge to treat beliefs as social facts no less viable
than social behaviour. When dealing with the actual relation
of philosophy to the sociology of knowledge, or better the role of philosophy
in assisting research on the social sources of ideas, one has
to become necessarily selective. Certain features we have touched upon:
philosophy as a logical, deductive system from which a social science
methodology can be built up; philosophic analysis of the assumptions
and presumptions of the social sciences; and philosophy as a
guide to possible integration of supposedly disparate sociological
investigations.

The objection will be raised that the most important

role of philosophy in relation to social science has been omitted,
namely the status of ultimate value questions and norms operative in
the social sciences. Specifically, it will be asked whether the "real"
questions people ask are not the "ultimate" questions that
social science finds itself impotent in the face of. What then is the
status of such questions as: is society the ground of human existence
or a means to an individual goal? Do societies develop according
to cosmic patterns or are they subject only to the free choice of individuals?
Does society really exist as an entity over and above the
agglomeration of men? I think it must be said that, contrary to metaphysical
insistence, these are questions so framed as to defy either
empirical exploration or rational solutions. As Simmel (1908) and Dilthey
(1922) indicated, questions of whether the value of life is individual
or social are not questions, but assertions of faith made to
appear as legitimate questions. Such pseudo-questions assume that answers
of concrete significance can be supplied to statements involving
undefined universals. Social theory has no more right to expect results
from meaningless questions, than physics has the right to expect a
theological solution to the wave-particle controversy. It is not
that such questions are not asked. It is rather that introducing them
into social analysis reflects not so much a search for truth as for
certainty. An operational approach to sociology can never expect abstract
certainty, since it is certainty which every new discovery in science
either replaces or reshapes. To raise the added objection that
men require certainty on psychological grounds, answers to ultimate questions
having an irrational rather than scientific basis, is in a real
sense to undermine the objection itself. For what concerns all scientific
disciplines is precisely that which can be captured for the rational,
i&e&, for the scientific determination of what in past ages
was considered ultimate and irrational. A philosophy which attempts
to supply ultimate answers in an ultimate way reveals its acquiescence
in the shortcomings of men, an impatience with partial, tentative
solutions. Men have always lived in a tentative world, and in suspension
of ultimate judgments where and when necessary. Uncertainty
overcoming itself is the precondition of the quest for new and more precise
information about the world. Without such uncertainty we are left
with a set of dogmas and myths. The functional interplay of philosophy
and science should, as a minimum, guarantee a meaningful option to
myth-making. A degree of indefiniteness is a salutary condition
for the growth of science.
But neither was the statement empirical, for goodness was not a quality
like red or squeaky that could be seen or heard. What were they to
do, then, with these awkward judgments of value? To find a place for
them in their theory of knowledge would require them to revise the
theory radically, and yet that theory was what they regarded as their
most important discovery. It appeared that the theory could be saved
in one way only. If it could be shown that judgments of good and bad
were not judgments at all, that they asserted nothing true or false, but
merely expressed emotions like "Hurrah" or "Fiddlesticks",
then these wayward judgments would cease from troubling and weary heads
could be at rest. This is the course the positivists took. They
explained value judgments by explaining them away. Now I do not
think their view will do. But before discussing it, I should like
to record one vote of thanks to them for the clarity with which they
have stated their case. It has been said of John Stuart Mill that
he wrote so clearly that he could be found out. This theory has been
put so clearly and precisely that it deserves criticism of the same kind,
and this I will do my best to supply. The theory claims to show
by analysis that when we say, "That is good", we do not mean to assert
a character of the subject of which we are thinking. I shall argue
that we do mean to do just that. Let us work through an example,
and the simpler and commoner the better. There is perhaps no value
statement on which people would more universally agree than the statement
that intense pain is bad. Let us take a set of circumstances
in which I happen to be interested on the legislative side and in which
I think every one of us might naturally make such a statement. We
come upon a rabbit that has been caught in one of the brutal traps in
common use. There are signs that it has struggled for days to escape
and that in a frenzy of hunger, pain, and fear, it has all but eaten
off its own leg. The attempt failed: the animal is now dead. As we
think of the long and excruciating pain it must have suffered, we are
very
likely to say: "It was a bad thing that the little animal should
suffer so". The positivist tells us that when we say this we are
only expressing our present emotion. I hold, on the contrary, that we
mean to assert something of the pain itself, namely, that it was bad-
bad when and as it occurred. Consider what follows from the
positivist view. On that view, nothing good or bad happened in the case
until I came on the scene and made my remark. For what I express
in my remark is something going on in me at the time, and that of course
did not exist until I did come on the scene. The pain of the rabbit
was not itself bad; nothing evil was happening when that pain was
being endured; badness, in the only sense in which it is involved
at all, waited for its appearance till I came and looked and felt. Now
that this is at odds with our meaning may be shown as follows. Let
us put to ourselves the hypothesis that we had not come on the scene
and that the rabbit never was discovered. Are we prepared to say that
in that case nothing bad occurred in the sense in which we said it did?
Clearly not. Indeed we should say, on the contrary, that the accident
of our later discovery made no difference whatever to the badness
of the animal's pain, that it would have been every whit as bad
whether a chance passer-by happened later to discover the body and feel
repugnance or not. If so, then it is clear that in saying the suffering
was bad we are not expressing our feelings only. We are saying that
the pain was bad when and as it occurred and before anyone took an
attitude toward it. The first argument is thus an ideal experiment
in which we use the method of difference. It removes our present
expression and shows that the badness we meant would not be affected
by this, whereas on positivist grounds it should be. The second argument
applies the method in the reverse way. It ideally removes the past
event, and shows that this would render false what we mean to say,
whereas on positivist grounds it should not. Let us suppose that the
animal did not in fact fall into the trap and did not suffer at all, but
that we mistakenly believe it did, and say as before that its suffering
was an evil thing. On the positivist theory, everything I sought
to express by calling it evil in the first case is still present in
the second. In the only sense in which badness is involved at all, whatever
was bad in the first case is still present in its entirety, since
all that is expressed in either case is a state of feeling, and that
feeling is still there. And our question is, is such an implication
consistent with what we meant? Clearly it is not. If anyone asked
us, after we made the remark that the suffering was a bad thing, whether
we should think it relevant to what we said to learn that the incident
had never occurred and no pain had been suffered at all, we should
say that it made all the difference in the world, that what we were
asserting to be bad was precisely the suffering we thought had occurred
back there, that if this had not occurred, there was nothing left to
be bad, and that our assertion was in that case mistaken. The suggestion
that in saying something evil had occurred we were after all making
no mistake, because we had never meant anyhow to say anything about
the past suffering, seems to me merely frivolous. If we did not mean
to say this, why should we be so relieved on finding that the suffering
had not occurred? On the theory before us, such relief would be
groundless, for in that suffering itself there was nothing bad at all,
and hence in its nonoccurrence there would be nothing to be relieved
about. The positivist theory would here distort our meaning beyond recognition.

So far as I can see, there is only one way out for

the positivist. He holds that goodness and badness lie in feelings of
approval or disapproval. And there is a way in which he might hold
that badness did in this case precede our own feeling of disapproval
without belonging to the pain itself. The pain in itself was neutral;
but unfortunately the rabbit, on no grounds at all, took up toward
this neutral object an attitude of disapproval and that made it for the
first time, and in the only intelligible sense, bad. This way of escape
is theoretically possible, but since it has grave difficulties of
its own and has not, so far as I know, been urged by positivists, it
is perhaps best not to spend time over it. I come now to a third
argument, which again is very simple. When we come upon the rabbit
and make our remark about its suffering being a bad thing, we presumably
make it with some feeling; the positivists are plainly right in
saying that such remarks do usually express feeling. But suppose that
a week later we revert to the incident in thought and make our statement
again. And suppose that the circumstances have now so changed that
the feeling with which we made the remark in the first place has faded.
The pathetic evidence is no longer before us; and we are now
so
fatigued in body and mind that feeling is, as we say, quite dead. In
these circumstances, since what was expressed by the remark when first
made is, on the theory before us, simply absent, the remark now expresses
nothing. It is as empty as the word "Hurrah" would be when
there was no enthusiasm behind it. And this seems to me untrue. When
we repeat the remark that such suffering was a bad thing, the feeling
with which we made it last week may be at or near the vanishing point,
but if we were asked whether we meant to say what we did before, we
should certainly answer Yes. We should say that we made our point
with feeling the first time and little or no feeling the second time,
but that it was the same point we were making. And if we can see that
what we meant to say remains the same, while the feeling varies from
intensity to near zero, it is not the feeling that we primarily meant
to express. I come now to a fourth consideration. We all believe
that toward acts or effects of a certain kind one attitude is fitting
and another not; but on the theory before us such a belief would
not make sense. Broad and Ross have lately contended that this fitness
is one of the main facts of ethics, and I suspect they are right.
But that is not exactly my point. My point is this: whether there
is such fitness or not, we all assume that there is, and if we do, we
express in moral judgments more than the subjectivists say we do. Let
me illustrate. In his novel <The House of the Dead>, Dostoevsky
tells of his experiences in a Siberian prison camp. Whatever
the unhappy inmates of such camps are like today, Dostoevsky's companions
were about as grim a lot as can be imagined. "I have heard
stories", he writes, "of the most terrible, the most unnatural actions,
of the most monstrous murders, told with the most spontaneous,
childishly merry laughter". Most of us would say that in this delight
at the killing of others or the causing of suffering there is something
very unfitting. If we were asked why we thought so, we should say
that these things involve great evil and are wrong, and that to take
delight in what is evil or wrong is plainly unfitting. Now on the subjectivist
view, this answer is ruled out. For before someone takes
up an attitude toward death, suffering, or their infliction, they have
no moral quality at all. There is therefore nothing about them to which
an attitude of approval or condemnation could be fitting. They are
in themselves neutral, and, so far as they get a moral quality, they
get it only through being invested with it by the attitude of the onlooker.
But if that is true, why is any attitude more fitting than any
other? Would applause, for example, be fitting if, apart from the
applause, there were nothing good to applaud? Would condemnation be
fitting if, independently of the condemnation, there were nothing bad
to condemn? In such a case, any attitude would be as fitting or unfitting
as any other, which means that the notion of fitness has lost
all point. Indeed we are forced to go much farther. If goodness
and badness lie in attitudes only and hence are brought into being
by them, those men who greeted death and misery with childishly merry
laughter are taking the only sensible line. If there is nothing evil
in these things, if they get their moral complexion only from our feeling
about them, why shouldn't they be greeted with a cheer? To greet
them with repulsion would turn what before was neutral into something
bad; it would needlessly bring badness into the world; and even
on subjectivist assumptions that does not seem very bright. On the
other hand, to greet them with delight would convert what before was neutral
into something good; it would bring goodness into the world.

The injured German veteran was a former miner, twenty-four years

old, who had been wounded by shrapnel in the back of the head. This
resulted in damage to the occipital lobe and very probably to the left
side of the cerebellum also. In any event, the extraordinary result
of this injury was that he became "psychically blind", while at
the same time, apparently, the sense of touch remained essentially intact.
Psychical blindness is a condition in which there is a total absence
of visual memory-images, a condition in which, for example, one
is unable to remember something just seen or to conjure up a memory-picture
of the visible appearance of a well-known friend in his absence.
This circumstance in the patient's case plus the fact that his tactual
capacity remained basically in sound working order constitutes its
exceptional value for the problem at hand since the evidence presented
by the authors is overwhelming that, when the patient closed his eyes,
he had absolutely no spatial (that is, third-dimensional) awareness
whatsoever. The necessary inference, as the authors themselves interpret
it, would seem to be this: "(1) Spatial qualities are not among
those grasped by the sense of touch, <as such>. We do not arrive
at spatial images by means of the sense of touch <by itself>. (2)
Spatiality becomes part of the tactual sensation only by way of visual
representations; that is, there is, in the true sense, only a <visual>
space". The underlying assumption, of course, is that only
sight and touch enable us, in any precise and fully dependable way, to
locate objects in space beyond us, the other senses being decidedly inferior,
if not totally inadequate, in this regard. This is an assumption
with which few would be disposed to quarrel. Therefore, if the sense
of touch is functioning normally and there is a complete absence
of spatial awareness in a psychically-blind person when the eyes are closed
and an object is handled, the conclusion seems unavoidable that
touch by itself cannot focus and take possession of the third-dimensionality
of things and that actual sight or visual representations are
necessary. The force of the authors' analysis (if indeed it
has any force) can be felt by the reader, I believe, only after three
questions have been successfully answered. (1) What allows us to think
that the patient had no third-dimensional representations when his
eyes were closed? (2) What evidence is there that he was psychically
blind? (3) How can we be sure that his sense of touch was not profoundly
disturbed by his head injury? We shall consider these in the
inverse order of their presentation. Obviously, a satisfactory
answer to the third question is imperative, if the argument is to
get under way at all, for if there is any possibility of doubt whether
the patient's tactual sensitivity had been impaired by the occipital
lesion, any findings whatsoever in regard to the first question become
completely ambiguous and fail altogether, of course, as evidence to
establish the desired conclusion. The answer the authors give to it,
therefore, is of supreme importance. It is as follows: "The usual
sensitivity tests showed that the specific qualities of skin-perceptiveness
(pressure, pain, temperature), as well as the kinesthetic
sensations
(muscular feelings, feelings in the tendons and joints), were,
as such, essentially intact, although they seemed, in comparison with
normal reactions, to be somewhat diminished over the entire body. The
supposed tactual sense of spatial location and orientation in the patient
and his ability to specify the location of a member, as well as
the direction and scope of a movement, passively executed (with one of
his members), proved to have been, on the contrary, very considerably
affected". The authors insist, however, that these abnormalities in
the sense of touch were due absolutely to no organic disorders in that
sense faculty but rather to the injuries which the patient had sustained
to the sense of sight. First of all, what is their evidence
that the tactual apparatus was fundamentally undamaged? (1) When
an object was placed in the patient's hand, he had no difficulty determining
whether it was warm or cold, sharp or blunt, rough or smooth,
flexible, soft, or hard; and he could tell, simply by the feel of
it, whether it was made of wood, iron, cloth, rubber, and so on. And
he could recognize, by touch alone, articles which he had handled immediately
before, even though they were altogether unfamiliar to him and
could not be identified by him; that is, he was unaware what kind
of objects they were or what their use was. (2) The patient attained
an astonishing efficiency in a new trade. Because of his brain injury
and the extreme damage suffered to his sight, the patient had to train
himself for a new line of work, that of a portfolio-maker, an occupation
requiring a great deal of precision in the making of measurements
and a fairly well-developed sense of form and contour. It seems clear,
when one takes into consideration the exceedingly defective eyesight
of the patient (we shall describe it in detail in connection with our
second question, the one concerning the psychical blindness of the
patient), that he had to rely on his sense of touch much more than the
usual portfolio-maker and that consequently that faculty was most probably
more sensitive to shape and size than that of a person with normal
vision. And so the authors conclude: "The conduct of the patient
in his every-day life and in his work, even more than the foregoing
facts [mentioned above under 1], leave positively no room for doubt
that the sense of touch, in the ordinary sense of the word, was unaffected;
or, to put the same thing in physiological terms, that the performance-capacity
of the tactual apparatus, from the periphery up to
the tactual centers in the brain,- that is, from one end to the other-
was unimpaired". If the argument is accepted as essentially
sound up to this point, it remains for us to consider whether the
patient's difficulties in orienting himself spatially and in locating
objects in space with the sense of touch can be explained by his defective
visual condition. But before we can do this, we must first find
answers to our original questions 1 and 2; then we shall perhaps
be in a position to provide something like a complete answer to the question
at hand. In what ways, then, did the patient's psychical
blindness manifest itself? He could not see objects as unified,
self-contained, and organized figures, as a person does with normal
vision. The meaning of this, as we shall see, is that he had no fund
of visual memory-images of objects as objects; and, therefore, he could
not recognize even long-familiar things upon seeing them again. Instead,
he constantly became lost in parts and components of them, confused
some of their details with those of neighboring objects, and so
on, unless he allowed time to "trace" the object in question through
minute movements of the head and hands and in this way to discover
its contours. According to his own testimony, he never actually saw things
as shaped but only as generally amorphous "blots" of color of
a more or less indefinite size; at their edges they slipped pretty
much out of focus altogether. But by the tracing procedure, he could,
in a strange obviously kinesthetic manner, find the unseen form; could
piece, as it were, the jumbled mass together into an organized whole
and then recognize it as a man or a triangle or whatever it turned
out to be. If, however, the figure to be discerned were complicated,
composed of several interlocking subfigures, and so on, even the tracing
process failed him, and he could not focus even relatively simple
shapes among its parts. This meant, concretely, that the patient could
not read at all without making writing-like movements of the head or
body, became easily confused by "hasher marks" inserted between hand-written
words and thus confused the mark for one of the letters, and
could recognize a simple straight line or a curved one only by tracing
it. The patient himself denied that he had any visual imagery
at all; and there was ample evidence of the following sort to corroborate
him. After a conversation with another man, he was able to
recount practically everything that had been said but could not describe
at all what the other man looked like. Nor could he call up memory-pictures
of close friends or relatives. In short, both his own declarations
and his figural blindness, when he looked at objects, seem to
present undeniable evidence that he had simply no visual memory at all.
He was oblivious of the form of the object actually being viewed, precisely
because he could not assign it to a visual shape, already learned
and held in visual memory, as persons of normal vision do. He could
not recognize it; he was absolutely unfamiliar with it because he
had no visual memory at all. Therefore, his only recourse was to learn
the shape all over again for each new visual experience of the same
individual object or type of object; and this he could do only by
going over its mass with the tracing procedure. Then he might finally
recognize it, apparently by combining the visual blot, actually being
seen, with tactual feelings in the head or body accompanying the tracing
movements. This would mean, it can readily be seen, that, again,
for each new visual experience the tracing motions would have to be repeated
because of the absence of visual imagery. As one would
surmise, the procedure, however, could be repeated with the same object
or with the same type of object often enough, so that the corresponding
visual blots and the merest beginning of the tracing movement would
provide clues as to the actual shape, which the patient then immediately
could determine by a kind of inference. Men, trees, automobiles,
houses, and so on- objects continually confronted in everyday life-
had each its characteristic blot-appearance and became easily recognizable,
at the very beginning of tracing, by an inference as to what
each was. Dice, for example, he inferred from black dots on a white surface.
He evidently could not actually see the corners of these objects,
but their size and the dots gave them away. And the authors give
numerous instances of calculated guessing on the patient's part to
show how large a role it played in his process of readapting himself
and how proficient he became at it. Often he seems even to have been
able to guess correctly, without the tracing motions, solely on the basis
of qualitative differences among the blot-like things which appeared
in his visual experience. Perhaps the very important question-
What is, then, exactly the role of kinesthetic sensations in the
patient's ability to recognize forms and shapes by means of the tracing
movements when he is actually looking at things?- has now been
raised in the reader's mind and in the following form. If the patient
can perceive figure kinesthetically when he cannot perceive it visually,
then, it would seem, the sense of touch has immediate contact
with the spatial aspects of things in independence of visual representations,
at least in regard to two dimensions, and, as we shall see, even
this much spatial awareness on the part of unaided touch is denied
by the authors. How, then, do the kinesthetic sensations function in
all this? The authors set about answering this fundamental question
through a detailed investigation of the patient's ability, tactually,
(1) to perceive figure and (2) to locate objects in space, with his
eyes closed (or turned away from the object concerned). Quite naturally,
they make the investigation, first, by prohibiting the patient from
making any movements at all and then, later, by repeating it and allowing
the patient to move in any way he wanted to. When the
patient was not allowed to move his body in any way at all, the following
striking results occurred.
Whenever artists, indeed, turned to actual representations or molded
three-dimensional figures, which were rare down to 800 B&C&, they
tended to reflect reality (see Plate 6~a, 9~b); a schematic,
abstract treatment of men and animals, <by intent,> rose only in the
late eighth century. To speak of this underlying view of the
world is to embark upon matters of subjective judgment. At the least,
however, one may conclude that Geometric potters sensed a logical order;
their principles of composition stand very close to those which
appear in the Homeric epics and the hexameter line. Their world, again,
was a still simple, traditional age which was only slowly beginning
to appreciate the complexity of life. And perhaps an observer of the
vases will not go too far in deducing that the outlook of their makers
and users was basically stable and secure. The storms of the past
had died away, and the great upheaval which was to mark the following
century had not yet begun to disturb men's minds. Throughout
the work of the later ninth century a calm, severe serenity displays
itself. In the vases this spirit may perhaps at times bore or repel
one in its internal self-satisfaction, but the best of the Geometric
pins have rightly been considered among the most beautiful ever made
in the Greek world. The ninth century was in its artistic work "the
spiritually freest and most self-sufficient between past and future",
and the loving skill spent by its artists upon their products is a
testimonial to their sense that what they were doing was important and
was appreciated. _THE AEGEAN IN 800 B&C&_ GEOMETRIC POTTERY
has not yet received the thorough, detailed study which it
deserves,
partly because the task is a mammoth one and partly because some
of its local manifestations, as at Argos, are only now coming to light.
From even a cursory inspection of its many aspects, however, the
historian can deduce several fundamental conclusions about the progress
of the Aegean world down to 800 B&C& The general intellectual
outlook which had appeared in the eleventh century was now consolidated
to a significant degree. Much which was in embryo in 1000
had become reasonably well developed by 800. In this process the Minoan-Mycenaean
inheritance had been transmuted or finally rejected;
the Aegean world which had existed before 1000 differed from that
which
rises more clearly in our vision after 800. Those modern scholars
who urge that we must keep in mind the fundamental continuity of Aegean
development from earliest times- granted occasional irruptions of
peoples and ideas from outside- are correct; but all too many observers
have been misled by this fact into minimizing the degree of change
which took place in the early first millennium. The focus
of novelty in this world now lay in the south-eastern districts of
the
Greek mainland, and by 800 virtually the entire Aegean, always excepting
its northern shores, had accepted the Geometric style of pottery.
While Protogeometric vases usually turn up, especially outside Greece
proper, together with as many or more examples of local stamp, these
"non-Greek"
patterns had mostly vanished by the later ninth century.
In their place came local variations <within> the common style-
tentative, as it were, in Protogeometric products but truly distinct
and sharply defined as the Geometric spirit developed. Attica,
though important, was not the only teacher of this age. One can take
a vase of about 800 B&C& and, without any knowledge of its place
of origin, venture to assign it to a specific area; imitation and borrowing
of motifs now become ascertainable. The potters of the Aegean
islands thus stood apart from those of the mainland, and in Greece
itself Argive, Corinthian, Attic, Boeotian, and other Geometric
sequences have each their own hallmarks. These local variations were
to become ever sharper in the next century and a half. The same
conclusions can be drawn from the other physical evidence of the Dark
ages, from linguistic distribution, and from the survivals of early
social, political, and religious patterns into later ages. By 800 B&C&
the Aegean was an area of common tongue and of common culture.
On these pillars rested that solid basis for life and thought which
was soon to be manifested in the remarkably unlimited ken of the <Iliad>.
Everywhere within the common pattern, however, one finds local
diversity; Greek history and culture were enduringly fertilized,
and plagued, by the interplay of these conjoined yet opposed factors.

Further we cannot go, for the Dark ages deserve their

name. Many aspects of civilization were not yet sufficiently crystallized
to find expression, nor could the simple economic and social foundations
of this world support a lofty structure. The epic poems, the
consolidation of the Greek pantheon, the rise of firm political units,
the self-awareness which could permit painted and sculptured representations
of men- all these had to await the progress of following decades.
What we have seen in this chapter, we have seen only dimly, and
yet the results, however general, are worth the search. These are
the centuries in which the inhabitants of the Aegean world settled firmly
into their minds and into their institutions the foundations of the
Hellenic outlook, independent of outside forces. To interpret,
indeed, the era from 1000 to 800 as a period mainly of consolidation
may be a necessary but unfortunate defect born of our lack of detailed
information; if we could see more deeply, we probably would find
many side issues and wrong turnings which came to an end within the
period. The historian can only point out those lines which were major
enough to find reflection in our limited evidence, and must hope that
future excavations will enrich our understanding. Throughout the Dark
ages, it is clear, the Greek world had been developing slowly but
consistently. The pace could now be accelerated, for the inhabitants
of the Aegean stood on firm ground.

#CHAPTER 5 THE EARLY EIGHTH CENTURY#

THE LANDSCAPE of Greek history broadens widely, and

rather abruptly, in the eighth century B&C&, the age of Homer's
"rosy-fingered Dawn". The first slanting rays of the new day
cannot yet dispel all the dark shadows which lie across the Aegean world;
but our evidence grows considerably in variety and shows more
unmistakably some of the lines of change. For this period, as for earlier
centuries, pottery remains the most secure source; the ceramic
material of the age is more abundant, more diversified, and more indicative
of the hopes and fears of its makers, who begin to show scenes of
human life and death. Figurines and simple chapels presage the emergence
of sculpture and architecture in Greece; objects in gold,
ivory,
and bronze grow more numerous. Since writing was practiced in the
Aegean before the end of the century, we may hope that the details of
tradition will now be occasionally useful. Though it is not easy to
apply the evidence of the <Iliad> to any specific era, this marvelous
product of the epic tradition had certainly taken definitive shape
by 750. The Dipylon Geometric pottery of Athens and the <Iliad>
are amazing manifestations of the inherent potentialities of Greek
civilization; but both were among the last products of a phase
which was ending. Greek civilization was swirling toward its great revolution,
in which the developed qualities of the Hellenic outlook were
suddenly to break forth. The revolution was well under way before
700 B&C&, and premonitory signs go back virtually across the century.
The era, however, is Janus-faced. While many tokens point forward,
the main achievements stand as a culmination of the simple patterns
of the Dark ages. The dominant pottery of the century was Geometric;
political organization revolved about the <basileis>;
trade
was just beginning to expand; the gods who protected the Greek countryside
were only now putting on their sharply anthropomorphic dress.

The modern student, who knows what was to come next, is likely
to place first the factors of change which are visible in the eighth
century. Not all men of the period would have accepted this emphasis.
Many potters clung to the past the more determinedly as they were confronted
with radically new ideas; the poet of the <Iliad> deliberately
archaized. Although it is not possible to sunder old and new
in this era, I shall consider in the present chapter primarily the
first
decades of the eighth century and shall interpret them as an apogee
of the first stage of Greek civilization. On this principle
of division I must postpone the evolution of sculpture, architecture,
society, and politics; for the developments in these areas make sense
only if they are connected to the age of revolution itself. The growing
contacts between Aegean and Orient are also a phase which should
be linked primarily to the remarkable broadening of Hellenic culture
after 750. We shall not be able entirely to pass over these connections
to the East as we consider Ripe Geometric pottery, the epic
and the myth, and the religious evolution of early Greece; the important
point, however, is that these magnificent achievements, unlike those
of later decades, were only incidentally influenced by Oriental
models. The antecedents of Dipylon vases and of the <Iliad> lie in
the Aegean past. _DIPYLON POTTERY_ THE POTTERY of the first
half of the eighth century is commonly called Ripe Geometric. The
severe yet harmonious vases of the previous fifty years, the Strong
Geometric style of the late ninth century, display as firm a mastery
of the principles underlying Geometric pottery; but artists now were
ready to refine and elaborate their inheritance. The vases which resulted
had different shapes, far more complex decoration, and a larger
sense of style. Beyond the aesthetic and technical aspects of
this expansion we must consider the change in pottery style on broader
lines. In earlier centuries men had had enough to do in rebuilding
a fundamental sense of order after chaos. They had had to work on very
simple foundations and had not dared to give rein to impulses. The
potters, in particular, had virtually eschewed freehand drawing, elaborate
motifs, and the curving lines of nature, while yet expressing a
belief that there was order in the universe. In their vases were embodied
the basic aesthetic and logical characteristics of Greek civilization,
at first hesitantly in Protogeometric work, and then more confidently
in the initial stages of the Geometric style. By 800 social
and cultural security had been achieved, at least on a simple plane;
it was time to take bigger steps, to venture on experiments. Ripe
Geometric potters continued to employ the old syntax of ornaments
and shapes and made use of the well-defined though limited range of
motifs which they had inherited. In these respects the vases of the early
eighth century represent a culmination of earlier lines of progress.
To the ancestral lore, however, new materials were added. Painters
left less and less of a vase in a plain dark color; instead they
divided the surface into many bands or covered it by all-over patterns
into which freehand drawing began to creep. Wavy lines, feather-like
patterns, rosettes of indefinitely floral nature, birds either singly
or in stylized rows, animals in solemn frieze bands (see Plates 11-12)-
all these turned up in the more developed fabrics as preliminary
signs that the potters were broadening their gaze. The rows of animals
and birds, in particular, suggest awareness of Oriental animal friezes,
transmitted perhaps via Syrian silver bowls and textiles, but the
specific forms of these rows on local vases and metal products are
nonetheless Greek. Though the spread of this type of decoration in the
Aegean has not yet been precisely determined, it seems to appear first
in the Cyclades, which were among the leading exporters of pottery
throughout the century. As the material at the command of the
potters grew and the volume of their production increased, the local
variations within a common style became more evident. Plate 12 illustrates
four examples, which are Ripe or Late Geometric work of common
spirit but of different schools.
Cook had discovered a beef in his possession a few days earlier and,
when he could not show the hide, arrested him. Thinking the evidence
insufficient to get a conviction, he later released him. Even while suffering
the trip to his home, Cook swore to Moore and Lane that he
would kill the Indian. Three weeks later following his recovery,
armed with a writ issued by the Catskill justice on affidavits prepared
by the district attorney, Cook and Russell rode to arrest Martinez.
Arriving at daybreak, they found Julio in his corral and demanded
that he surrender. Instead, he whirled and ran to his house for
a gun forcing them to kill him, Cook reported. Both Cook's
and Russell's lives were threatened by the Mexicans following the
killing, but the company officers felt that in the end, it would serve
to quiet them despite their immediate emotion. General manager Pels
even suggested that it might be wise to keep the Mexicans in suspense
rather than accept their offers to sell out and move away, and try
to have a few punished. On February 17, Russell and Cook
were sent to the Pena Flor community on the Vermejo to see about renting
out ranches the company had purchased. While talking with Julian
M& Beall, Francisco Archuleta and Juan Marcus appeared, both
heavily armed, and after watching the house for a while, rode away.
It was nearly sundown before they finished the business with Beall and
began riding down the stream. They had traveled only a short distance
when they spotted five Mexicans riding along a horse-trail across
the stream just ahead of them. Suspecting an ambush, the two deputies
decided to ride up a side canyon taking a short cut into Catskill.

After spending two nights (Wednesday and Thursday) in Catskill,

the deputies again headed for the Vermejo to finish their business.
They stayed with a rancher Friday night and by eleven o'clock
Saturday morning passed the old Garnett Lee ranch. Half a mile below
at the mouth of Salyer's Canyon was an old ranch that the company
had purchased from A& J& Armstrong, occupied by a Mexican,
his wife, and an old trapper. There were three houses in Salyer's
Canyon just at the foot of a low bluff, the road winding along the top,
entering above, and then passing down in front of the houses, thence
to the Vermejo. To the west of this road was another low bluff, forty
or fifty feet high, covered with scrub oak and other brush. As they
were riding along this winding road on the bench of land between the
two bluffs, a volley of rifle fire suddenly crashed around the two officers.
Not a bullet touched Cook who was nearer the ambush, but one
hit Russell in the leg and another broke his arm, passing on through
his body. With the first reports, Russell's horse wheeled
to the right and ran towards the buildings while Cook, followed by a
hail of bullets, raced towards the arroyo of Salyer's Canyon immediately
in front of him, just reaching it as his horse fell. Grabbing
his Winchester from its sheath, Cook prepared to fight from behind
the arroyo bank. Bullets were so thick, throwing sand in his face, that
he found it difficult to return the fire. Noticing Russell's horse
in front of the long log building, he assumed his friend had slipped
inside and would be able to put up a good fight, so he began working
his way down the ditch to join him. At a very shallow place, two Mexicans
rushed into the open for a shot. Dropping to one knee, Cook
felled one, and the other struggled off with his comrade, sending no further
fire in his direction. Just before leaving the arroyo where he
was partially concealed, he did hear shots down at the house.
Russell had reached the house as Cook surmised, dismounted, but just
as the old trapper opened the door to receive him, he fell into the trapper's
arms- dead. A bullet fired by one of the Mexicans hiding
in a little chicken house had passed through his head, tearing a hole
two-inches square on the outgoing side. Finding him dead, Cook caught
Russell's horse and rode to the cattle foreman's house to report
the incident and request bloodhounds to trail the assassins.

Before daylight Sunday morning, a posse of twenty-three men under

the leadership of Deputy Sheriff Frank MacPherson of Catskill followed
the trail to the house of Francisco Chaves, where 100 to 150
Mexicans had gathered. MacPherson boldly approached the fortified
adobe house and demanded entrance. The men inside informed him that they
had some wounded men among them but he would not be allowed to see
them even though he offered medical aid. The officer demanded the names
of the injured men; the Mexicans not only refused to give them,
but told the possemen if they wanted a fight they could have it. Since
the strength of the Mexicans had been underrated, too small a posse
had been collected, and since the deputy had not been provided with
search warrants, MacPherson and his men decided it was much wiser to
withdraw. The posse's retreat encouraged the Mexicans to
be overbearing and impudent. During the following week, six tons of hay
belonging to one rancher were burned; some buildings, farm tools,
two horses, plows, and hay owned by Bonito Lavato, a friendly interpreter
for the company, and Pedro Chavez' hay were stolen or destroyed;
and a store was broken into and robbed. District Attorney M&
W& Mills warned that he would vigorously prosecute persons caught
committing these crimes or carrying arms- he just didn't catch
anyone. Increasing threats on his life finally convinced Cook
that he should leave New Mexico. His friends advised that it would
be only a question of time until either the Mexicans killed him by
ambuscade or he would be compelled to kill them in self-defense, perpetuating
the troubles. By early summer, he wrote from Laramie that he
was suffering from the wound inflicted in the ambush and was in a bad
way financially, so Pels sent him a draft for $100, warning that it
was still not wise for him to return. Pels also sent a check for $100
to Russell's widow and had a white marble monument erected on his
grave. Cattle stealing and killing, again serious during the
spring of 1891, placed the land grant company officers in a perplexing
position. They were reluctant to appoint sheriffs to protect the property,
thus running the risk of creating disturbances such as that on
the Vermejo, and yet the cowboys protested that they got no salary
for arresting cattle thieves and running the risk of being shot. And
the law virtually ignored the situation. The judge became ill just as
the Colfax District Court convened, no substitute was brought in,
no criminal cases heard, only 5 out of 122 cases docketed were tried,
and court adjourned sine die after sitting a few days instead of the usual
three weeks. Pels complained: "Litigants and witnesses were
put to the expense and inconvenience of going long distances to transact
business; public money spent; justice delayed; nothing accomplished,
and the whole distribution of justice in this county seems to
be an absolute farce". Word reached the company that the man
behind these depredations was Manuel Gonzales, a man with many followers,
including a number who were kept in line through fear of him.
Although wanted by the sheriff for killing an old man named Asher Jones,
the warrant for his arrest had never been served. On May 19, a
deputy sheriff's posse of eight men left Maxwell City and rode thirty-five
miles up the Vermejo where they were joined by Juan Jose
Martinez. By 3:00 A&M& they reached his house and found it vacant.
When they were refused entrance to his brother's house nearby,
they smashed down the door, broke the window, and threw lighted clothes
wet with kerosene into the room. Still there was no Gonzales and
the family would say nothing. About 300 yards up the creek was
a cluster of Mexican houses containing six rooms in the form of a
square. While prowling around these buildings, two of the posse recognized
the voice of Gonzales speaking to the people inside. He was promised
that no harm would befall him if he would come out, but he cursed
and replied that he would shoot any man coming near the door. The
posse then asked that he send out the women and children as the building
would be fired or torn down over his head if necessary to take him
dead or alive. Again he refused. In deadly earnest, the besiegers methodically
stripped away portions of the roof and tossed lighted rags
inside, only to have most stamped out by the women as soon as they hit
the floor. When it became obvious that he could stay inside no longer,
taking a thousand to one chance Gonzales rushed outside, square against
the muzzle of a Winchester. Shot near the heart, he turned to
one side and plunged for a door to another room several feet away, three
bullets following him. As he pushed open the door he fell on his
face, one of his comrades pulling him inside. Not realizing the
seriousness of the wound, the besiegers warned that if he did not surrender
the house would be burned down around him. Receiving no answer,
they set the fire. When the house was about half consumed, his comrade
ran to the door and threw up his hands, declaring repeatedly that
he did not know the whereabouts of Manuel. Finding it true that he
was not inside, the deputies returned to the first house and tore holes
through the side and the roof until they could see a body on the bed
covered by a blanket. Several slugs fired into the bed jerked aside
the blanket to reveal an apparently lifeless hand. Shot six or eight
times the body was draped with Russell's pistol, belt, and cartridges.
There was no extra horse so it was left to his comrades who, though
numbering in the fifties, had stood around on the hillside nearby
without firing a shot during the entire attack. Early the next
morning, a Mexican telephoned Pels that Celso Chavez, one of the
posse members, was surrounded by ten Mexicans at his father's home
on the upper Vermejo. The sheriff and District Attorney Mills
hastily swore
out a number of warrants against men who had been riding about armed,
according to signed statements by Chavez and Dr& I& P& George,
and ordered Deputy Barney Clark of Raton to rescue the posseman.
Traveling all night, Clark and twelve men arrived at about seven
o'clock May 22. Occasionally they heard gun-shot signals and a
number of horsemen were sighted on the hills, disappearing at the posse's
approach. A Mexican justice of the peace had issue a writ against
Chavez for taking part in the "murder" of Manuel Gonzales
so he and his father were anxious to be taken out of danger. The men
helped them gather their belongings and escorted them to Raton along
with three other families desiring to leave. The ten or more
dangerous parties singled out for prosecution were still at large, and
Pels realized that if these men entrenched themselves in their adobe
houses, defending themselves through loopholes, it would be most difficult
to capture them. Thus he wired J& P& Lower and Sons of
Denver: "Have you any percussion hand grenades for throwing in a
house or across a well loaded with balls or shrapnel shot? If not,
how long to order and what is the price"? He wisely decided that
it would be foolish to create a disturbance during the coming roundup,
particularly since the Mexicans were on their guard. His problem
then became one of restraining the American fighters who wanted to clean
out the Vermejo by force immediately.
The plant was located west of the Battenkill and south of the location
of the former electric light plant. The Manchester Depot
Sewer Company issued 214 shares of stock at $10 each for construction
of a sewer in that locality, and assessments were made for its maintenance.
It has given considerable trouble at times and empties right
into the Battenkill. Fire District No& 1 discussed its possible
purchase in 1945, but considered it an unwise investment. The
sewer on Bonnet Street was constructed when there were only a few houses
on the street. as new homes were built they were connected so that
all residences south of School Street are served by it. B& J&
Connell is the present treasurer and manager. The 1946 town
meeting voted to have the Selectmen appoint a committee to investigate
and report on the feasibility of some system of sewage disposal and
a disposal plant to serve Manchester Center, Depot, and Way's
Lane. The committee submitted a report signed by Louis Martin and
Leon Wiley with a map published in the 1946 town report. The layout
of the sewer lines was designed by Henry W& Taylor, who was the
engineer for the Manchester Village disposal plant. No figures were
submitted with the report and no action was taken on it by the town.

The 1958 town meeting directed town authorities to seek federal

and state funds with which to conduct a preliminary survey of a proposed
sewage plant with its attendant facilities. The final step was a
vote
for a $230,000 bond issue for the construction of a sewage system by
the 1959 town meeting, later confirmed by a two-thirds vote at a special
town meeting June 21, 1960. There the matter stands with
the prospect that soon Manchester may be removed from the roster of
towns contributing raw sewage to its main streams. #@ TELEPHONE AND
TELEGRAPH#

MANCHESTER'S unusual interest in telegraphy has

often been attributed to the fact that the Rev& J& D& Wickham,
headmaster of Burr and Burton Seminary, was a personal friend and
correspondent of the inventor, Samuel F& B& Morse. At any
rate, Manchester did not lag far behind the first commercial system
which was set up in 1844 between Baltimore and Washington. In
1846 Matthew B& Goodwin, jeweler and watchmaker, became the town's
first telegrapher in a dwelling he built for himself and his business
"two doors north of the Equinox House" or "one door north
of the Bank, Manchester, Vermont". Goodwin was telegrapher for
the "American Telegraph Company" and the "Troy and Canada
Junction Telegraph Company". Shares of capital stock at $15 each
in the latter company were payable at the Bank of Manchester or at
various other Vermont banks. A message of less than fifteen words to
Bennington cost twenty-five cents. By 1871 L& C& Orvis,
manager of the "Western Union Telegraph Company", expressed
willingness to send emergency telegrams on Sundays from his Village
drugstore. Orvis even needed to hire an assistant, Clark J& Wait.
The <Manchester Journal> commented editorially on the surprising
amount of local telegraphic business. In the fall of 1878,
the "Popular Telegraph Line" was established between Manchester
and Factory Point by the owners, Paul W& Orvis, Henry Gray,
J& N& Hard, and Clark J& Wait. The line soon lived up
to its name, as local messages of moderate length could be sent for a
dime and the company was quickly able to declare very liberal dividends
on its capital stock. In 1879 the same Clark Wait, with H&
H& Holley of South Dorset, formed the "American Telegraph
Line", extending from Manchester Depot via Factory Point and
South Dorset to Dorset. Besides being most convenient, the line "soon
proved a good investment for the owners". Telegraphers at the
Depot at this time were Aaron C& Burr and Mark Manley of "Burr
and Manley", dealers in lumber and dry goods. Early equipment
was very flimsy; the smallest gusts of wind toppled poles,
making communications impossible. But companies continued to spring
up. By 1883 the "Battenkill Telegraph Company" was in existence
and Alvin Pettibone was its president. Operating in 1887 was the
"Valley Telegraph Line", officers of which were E& C& Orvis,
president; H& K& Fowler, vice-president and secretary;
J& N& Hard, treasurer; F& H& Walker, superintendent;
H& S& Walker, assistant superintendent. Two companies now had
headquarters with Clark J& Wait, who by then had his own drugstore
at Factory Point- the "Northern Union Telegraph Company"
and the "Western Union". Operators were Arthur Koop and
Norman
Taylor. Still existing on a "Northern Union" telegraph form
is a typical peremptory message from Peru grocer J& J& Hapgood
to Burton and Graves' store in Manchester- "Get and send
by stage sure four pounds best Porterhouse or serloin stake, for Mrs&
Hapgood send six sweet oranges". About 1888 J& E&
McNaughton of Barnumville and E& G& Bacon became proprietors
of the "Green Mountain Telegraph Company", connecting all offices
on the Western Union line and extending over the mountain from
Barnumville to Peru, Londonderry, South Londonderry, Lowell Lake,
Windham, North Windham, Grafton, Cambridgeport, Saxton's
River, and Bellows Falls. From 1896 until 1910 John H&
Whipple was manager of Western Union at the Center in the drugstore
he purchased from Clark Wait. The Village office of Western Union
with George Towsley as manager and telegrapher continued in Hard's
drugstore until 1905. During the summers, Towsley often needed
the assistance of a company operator. These were the years when
people flocked to Manchester not only to play golf, which had come
into vogue, but also to witness the Ekwanok Country Club tournaments.
New Yorkers were kept informed of scores by reporters who telegraphed
fifteen to twenty thousand words daily to the metropolitan newspapers.
This boosted local telegraph business and Manchester basked in
all the free advertising. In 1914 when the town was chosen for the
U& S& Amateur Golf tournament, a representative hurried here from
the Boston manager's office. In his wake came the District Traffic
Supervisor and the cream of the telegraphic profession, ten of
Boston's best, chosen for their long experience and thorough knowledge
of golf. During that tournament alone, some 250,000 words winged
their way out of Manchester. The old Morse system was replaced
locally by the Simplex modern automatic method in 1929, when Ellamae
Heckman (Wilcox) was manager of the Western Union office. During
summers, business was so brisk that Mrs& Wilcox had two assistants
and a messenger. She was succeeded by Clarence Goyette. Since
that time the telegraph office has shifted in location from the railroad
station at the Depot and shops at the Center back to the town clerk's
office and drugstore at the Village. After being located for
some years in the Village at the Equinox Pharmacy under the supervision
of Mrs& Harry Mercier, it is presently located in the Hill
and Dale Shop, Manchester Center. The first known telephone
line in Manchester was established in July 1883 between Burr and
Manley's store at Manchester Depot and the Kent and Root Marble
Company in South Dorset. This was extended the following year
to include the railroad station agent's office and Thayer's Hotel
at Factory Point. In November 1887 a line connecting several dwelling
houses in Dorset was extended to Manchester Depot. Telephone
wires from Louis Dufresne's house in East Manchester to the Dufresne
lumber job near Bourn Pond were up about 1895. Eber L& Taylor
of Manchester Depot recorded the setting of phone poles in East
Dorset and Barnumville in his diary for 1906. These must have been
for local calls strictly, as in May 1900 the "only long distance
telephone" in town was transferred from C& B& Carleton's to
Young's shoe store. A small single switchboard was installed
in the Village over Woodcock's hardware store (later E& H&
Hemenway's). George Woodcock was manager and troubleshooter;
Elizabeth Way was the first operator; and a night operator was also
employed. Anyone fortunate enough to have one of those early phones
advertised the fact along with the telephone number in the <Manchester
Journal>. In 1918 the New England Telephone Company
began erecting a building to house its operations on the corner of U&
S& Rte& 7 and what is now Memorial Avenue at Manchester Center.
Service running through Barnumville and to Bennington County
towns east of the mountains was in the hands of the "Gleason Telephone
Company" in 1925, but major supervision of telephone lines
in Manchester was with the New England Telephone and Telegraph Company,
which eventually gained all control. More aerial and underground
equipment was installed as well as office improvements to take care
of the expanding business. In 1931 Mrs& F& H& Briggs,
agent and chief operator, who was to retire in 1946 with thirty years'
service, led agency offices in sales for the year with $2,490.
William Hitchcock, who retired in 1938, was a veteran of thirty-four
years' local service. Another veteran telephone operator was Edith
Fleming Blackmer, who had been in the office forty years at the time
of her death in 1960. In 1932 Dorset received its own exchange,
which made business easier for the Manchester office, but it was
not until February 1953 that area service was extended to include Manchester
and Dorset. This eliminated toll calls between the two towns.
Within a month, calls were up seventy per cent. #@ ELECTRIC
POWER#
ELECTRICITY plays such an important part in community life
today that it is difficult to envision a time when current was not
available for daily use. Yet one has to go back only some sixty years.

The first mention of an electric plant in Manchester seems

to be one installed in Reuben Colvin's and Houghton's gristmill
on the West Branch in Factory Point. No records are available as
to the date or extent of installation, but it may have been in 1896.

On June 14, 1900 the <Manchester Journal> reported that

an electrical engineer was installing an electric light plant for Edward
S& Isham at "Ormsby Hill". This was working by the end
of August and giving satisfactory service. In November 1900
surveying was done under John Marsden on the east mountains to ascertain
if it would be possible to get sufficient water and fall to operate
an electric power plant. Nothing came of it, perhaps due to lack of
opportunity for water storage. The next step was construction
by the Manchester Light and Power Company of a plant on the west
bank of the Battenkill south of Union Street bridge. This was nearly
completed May 23, 1901 with a promise of lights by June 10, but
the first light did not go on until September 28. It was at the end
of the sidewalk in front of the Dellwood Cemetery cottage. The
first directors of the Manchester Light and Power Company were
John Marsden, M& L& Manley, William F& Orvis, George Smith,
and John Blackmer. The officers were John Marsden, president;
John C& Blackmer, vice-president; George Smith, treasurer;
and William F& Orvis, secretary. Marsden was manager of the
company for ten years and manager of its successor company, the Colonial
Light and Power Company, for one year. At about the time
the Marsden enterprise was getting under way, the Vail Light and
Lumber Company started construction of a chair stock factory on the
site of the present Bennington Co-operative Creamery, intending to
use its surplus power for generating electricity. Manchester then had
two competing power companies until 1904, when the Manchester Light
and Power Company purchased the transmission system of the Vail
Company. This was fortunate, as the Vail plant burned in 1905.

The Colonial Light and Power Company was succeeded by the Vermont
Hydro-Electric Corporation, which in turn was absorbed by the
Central Vermont Public Service Corporation. The latter now furnishes
the area with electricity distributed from a modern sub-station at
Manchester Depot which was put into operation February 19, 1930 and
was improved in January 1942 by the installation of larger transformers.

For a time following the abandonment of the local plant,

electric current for Manchester was brought in from the south with
an emergency tie-in with the Vermont Marble Company system to the north.
Some who have written on <Utopia> have treated it as "a learned
diversion of a learned world", "a phantasy with which More amused
himself", "a holiday work, a spontaneous overflow of intellectual
high spirits, a revel of debate, paradox, comedy and invention". With
respect to this view, two points are worth making. First, it appears
to be based on the fact that on its title page <Utopia> is described
as "festivus", "gay". It overlooks the other fact that
it is described as "<Nec minus salutaris quam festivus>", "no
less salutary than gay". It also overlooks the fact that in a rational
lexicon, and quite clearly in More's lexicon, the opposite of
serious is not gay but frivolous, and the opposite of gay is not serious
but solemn. More believed that a man could be both serious and gay.
That a writer who is gay cannot be serious is a common professional
illusion, sedulously fostered by all too many academics who mistakenly
believe that their frivolous efforts should be taken seriously because
they are expressed with that dreary solemnity which is the only mode
of expression their authors are capable of. Secondly, to find a learned
diversion and a pleasing joke in More's account of the stupid
brutalities of early sixteenth century wars, of the anguish of the poor
and dispossessed, of the insolence and cruelty of the rich and powerful
requires a callousness toward suffering and sin that would be surprising
in a moral imbecile and most surprising in More himself. Indeed,
it is even surprising in the Canon of Christ Church and Regius
Professor of Ecclesiastical History, who fathered this most peculiar
view, and in the brilliant Professor of Medieval and Renaissance
English at Cambridge, who inherited it and is now its most eminent
proponent. But to return to the main line of our inquiry. It
is doubtful that <Utopia> is still widely read because More was medieval
or even because he was a martyr- indeed, it is likely that these
days many who read <Utopia> with interest do not even know that
its author was a martyr. <Utopia> is still widely read because in
a sense More stood on the margin of modernity. And if he did stand
on the margins of modernity, it was not in dying a martyr for such unity
as Papal supremacy might be able to force on Western Christendom.
It was not even in writing Latin epigrams, sometimes bawdy ones, or
in translating Lucian from Greek into Latin or in defending the study
of Greek against the attack of conservative academics, or in attacking
the conservative theologians who opposed Erasmus's philological
study of the New Testament. Similar literary exercises were the
common doings of a Christian humanist of the first two decades of the
sixteenth century. Had More's writings been wholly limited to such
exercises, they would be almost as dimly remembered as those of a dozen
or so other authors living in his time, whose works tenuously survive
in the minds of the few hundred scholars who each decade in pursuit
of their very specialized occasions read those works. More
stands on the margins of modernity for one reason alone- because he
wrote <Utopia>. And the evidence that he does, indeed, stand there
derives quite simply from the vigorous interest with which rather casual
readers have responded to that book for the past century or so.
Only one other contemporary of More's evokes so immediate and direct
a response, and only one other contemporary work- Niccolo Machiavelli
and <The Prince>. Can we discover what it is in <Utopia>
that has evoked this response? Remember that in seeking the modern
in <Utopia> we do not deny the existence of the medieval and the Renaissance
there; we do not even need to commit ourselves to assessing
on the same inconceivable
scale the relative importance of the medieval, the
Renaissance, and the modern. The medieval was the most important
to Chambers because he sought to place Thomas More, the author of
<Utopia>, in some intelligible relation with St& Thomas More,
the martyr. To others whose concern it is to penetrate the significance
of Christian Humanism, the Renaissance elements are of primary
concern. But here we have a distinctly modern preoccupation; we want
to know why that book has kept on selling the way it has; we want
to know what is perennially new about <Utopia>. What is new
about it? To that question the answer is simple; it can be made
in two words, Utopian communism. But it is an answer which opens the
door wide to an onrush of objections and denials. Surely there is nothing
new about communism. We find it in Plato's <republic>, and
in <Utopia> More acknowledges his debt to that book. We find it
in that "common way of life **h pleasing to Christ and **h still in
use among the truest societies of Christians", that is, the better
monasteries which made it easier to convert the Utopians to
Christianity.
We find it in the later Stoic conception of man's natural condition
which included the community of all possessions. This conception
was taken up by the early Church Fathers and by canon lawyers and
theologians in the Middle Ages; and More was far too well read not
to have come across it in one or several of the forms thus given it.

But although the idea of communism is very old even in More's

day and did not spring full-clad from his imagination in 1515, it
is not communism as such that we are concerned with. We are concerned
not with the genus communism nor with other species of the genus:
Platonic, Stoic, early Christian, monastic, canonist or theological
communism; we are concerned with Utopian communism- that is, simply
communism as it appears in the imaginary commonwealth of Utopia,
as More conceived it. Perhaps one way to sharpen our sense of the modernity
of Utopian communism is to contrast it with the principal earlier
types of communistic theory. We will achieve a more vivid sense
of what it is by realizing what it is not. In Plato's <Republic>
communism is- to speak anachronistically- a communism of Janissaries.
Its function is to separate from the base ruled mass, among
whom private ownership prevails, the governing warrior elite. Moreover,
it is too readily forgotten that in the <Republic> what
gave
the initial impetus to Plato's excursus into the construction of an
imaginary commonwealth with its ruling-class communism of goods, wives,
and children, was his quest for a canon for the proper ordering of
the individual human psyche; and it is to this problem that the <Republic>
ultimately returns. In More's <Utopia> communism is not
a means of separating out a warrior elite from the lumpish mass. Utopian
communism applies to all Utopians. And in the economy of the
book it is not peripheral but central. The concern of <Utopia> is
with the <optimo reipublicae statu>, the best ordering of a civil society;
and it is again and again made clear that Utopian communism
provides the institutional array indispensible to that best ordering.

To derive Utopian communism from the Jerusalem Christian community

of the apostolic age or from its medieval successors-in-spirit,
the monastic communities, is with an appropriate shift of adjectives,
misleading in the same way as to derive it from Plato's <Republic>:
in the <Republic> we have to do with an elite of physical
and intellectual athletes, in the apostolic and monastic communities with
an elite of spiritual and religious athletes. The apostolic community
was literally an elite: chosen by Christ himself. And the monastic
communities were supposed to be made up of volunteers selected only
after a novitiate which would test their religious aptitude for monastic
rigors, their spiritual athleticism. Finally, the conception
of the <natural> community of all possessions which originated
with the Stoics was firmly fixed in a tradition by More's time, although
it was not accepted by all the theologian-philosophers of the
Middle Ages. In that tradition communism lay a safe distance back in
the age of innocence before the Fall of Man. It did not serve to
contrast the existing order of society with a possible alternative order,
because the age of innocence was not a possible alternative once man
had sinned. The actual function of patristic-civilian-canonist-scholastic
communism was adequately set forth by St& Gregory almost a
millenium before More wrote <Utopia>. "The soil is common
to all men **h. When we give the necessities of life to the poor,
we restore to them what is already theirs. We should think of it more
as an act of justice than compassion". Because community not
severalty of property is the law of nature no man can assert an absolutely
unalterable right to what is his. Indeed, of all that is his every
man is by nature and reason and therefore by conscience obligated
to regard himself as a custodian. He is a trustee for the common good,
however feeble the safeguards which the positive or municipal law of
property provides against his misuse of that share of the common fund,
wisely or unwisely, entrusted to his keeping. In contrast to this
Stoic-patristic view, <Utopia> implies that the nature of man is such
that to rely on individual conscience to supply the deficiencies of
municipal law is to embark on the bottomless sea of human sinfulness
in a sieve. The Utopians brace conscience with legal sanctions. In
a properly ordered society the massive force of public law performs the
function which in natural law theory ineptly is left altogether to
a small voice so often still. In all the respects just
indicated
Utopian communism differs from previous conceptions in which community
of possessions and living plays a role. Neither from one of these
conceptions nor from a combination of them can it be deduced. We do
not deny originality to the <Agamemnon> because Aeschylus found the
tales of the house of Atreus among the folk lore of the Greeks. In
a like sense whatever bits or shreds of previous conceptions one may
find in it, Utopian communism remains, as an integral whole, original-
a new thing. It is not merely a new thing; it is one of the very
few new things in <Utopia>; most of the rest is medieval or humanist
or part of an old tradition of social criticism. But to say that
at a moment in history something is <new> is not necessarily to say
that it is modern; and for this statement the best evidence comes
within the five years following the publication of <Utopia>, when
Martin Luther elaborates a new perception of the nature of the Divine's
encounter with man. New, indeed, is Luther's perception, but
not modern, as anyone knows who has ever tried to make intelligible
to modern students what Luther was getting at. Although Utopian
communism is both new in 1516 and also modern, it is not modern communism
or even modern socialism, as they exist or have ever existed in
theory or in practice. Consider the features of Utopian communism:
generous public provision for the infirm; democratic and secret elections
of all officers including priests, meals taken publicly in common
refectories; a common habit or uniform prescribed for all citizens;
even houses changed once a decade; six hours of manual labor
a day for all but a handful of magistrates and scholars, and careful measures
to prevent anyone from shirking; no private property, no money;
no sort of pricing at all for any goods or services, and therefore
no market in the economic sense of the term. Whatever the merits of
its intent, Utopian communism is far too naive, far too crude, to suit
any modern socialist or communist. It is not the details of Utopian
communism that make <Utopia> modern, it is the spirit, the attitude
of mind that informs those details. What that spirit and attitude
were we can best understand if we see more precisely how it contrasts
with the communist tradition with the longest continuous history, the
one which reached Christianity by the way of Stoicism through the
Church Fathers of Late Antiquity.

During the Dorr trial the Democratic press condemned the proceedings
and heralded Dorr as a martyr to the principles of the Declaration
of Independence. During the Brown trial, however, the state's
most powerful Democratic newspaper, the Providence <Daily Post>,
stated that Brown was a murderer, a man of blood, and that he and
his associates, with the assistance of Republicans and Abolitionists,
had plotted not only the liberation of the slaves but also the overthrow
of state and federal governments. The Providence <Daily Journal>
answered the <Daily Post> by stating that the raid of John
Brown was characteristic of Democratic acts of violence and that "He
was acting in direct opposition to the Republican Party, who proclaim
as one of their cardinal principles that they do not interfere
with slavery in the states". The two major newspapers in Providence
continued, throughout the crisis, to accuse each other of misrepresenting
the facts and attempting to falsify history. While the
<Daily Post> continued to accuse Republicans and the <Daily Journal>
continued to accuse Democrats, the Woonsocket <Patriot> complained
that the Virginia authorities showed indecent and cowardly
haste to condemn Brown and his men. Editor Foss stated, "Of their
guilt **h there can be no doubt **h but they are entitled to sufficient
time to prepare for trial, and **h a fair trial". The Providence
<Daily Post> thought that there were probably good reasons for
the haste in which the trial was being conducted and that the only thing
gained by a delay would be calmer feelings. The Providence <Daily
Journal> stated that although the guilt of Brown was evident, the
South must guarantee him a fair trial to preserve domestic peace.

On October 31, 1859, John Brown was found guilty of treason

against the state of Virginia, inciting slave rebellion, and murder.
For these crimes he was sentenced to be hanged in public on Friday,
December 2, 1859. Upon receiving the news, Northern writers, editors,
and clergymen heaped accusations of murder on the Southern states,
particularly Virginia. Although Rhode Islanders were preparing
for the state elections, they watched John Brown's trial with
extreme interest. On Wednesday morning, November 2, 1859, the Providence
<Daily Journal> stated that although Brown justly deserved
the extreme penalty, no man, however criminal, ought to suffer the penalty
without a fairer trial. The editor's main criticism of the trial
was the haste with which it was conducted. The readers of the Providence
<Daily Post>, however, learned that it was generally conceded
that "Old Brown" had a fair trial. Concerning the sentence
the editor asked, "What else can Virginia do than to hang the men
who have
defied her laws, organized treason, and butchered her citizens".

In the eastern section of the state the newspapers' reaction

to Brown's trial and sentence were basically identical. J&
Wheaton Smith, editor of the Warren <Telegraph> stated that "the
ends of justice must be satisfied, a solitary example must be set,
in order that all those misnamed philantropists [<sic>], who, actuated
by a blind zeal, dare to instigate riot, treason, and murder, may
heed it and shape their future course accordingly". The editor of
the Newport <Advertiser> could discover no evidence of extenuating
circumstances in the Brown trial which would warrant making an exception
to the infliction of capital punishment. In direct contrast
to the other Rhode Island editors, Samuel S& Foss of the Woonsocket
<Patriot> outwardly condemned the trial as being completely
unfair. Concerning the sentence, Foss wrote, "If it be possible
**h that mercy shall override vengeance **h and that John Brown's
sentence shall be commuted to imprisonment, it would be well- well
for the country **h and for Virginia". Despite the excitement
being caused by the trial and sentence of John Brown, Rhode Islanders
turned their attention to the state elections. The state had
elected Republican candidates in the past two years. There was no doubt
as to the control the Republican party exercised throughout the
state. If it failed on occasion to elect its candidates for general state
offices by majorities, the failure was due to a lingering remnant
of the Know-Nothing party, which called itself the American Republican
party. The American Republicans and the Republicans both nominated
Lieutenant-Governor Turner for governor. Elisha R& Potter
was the Democratic candidate. The results of the election of 1859
found Republican candidates not only winning the offices of governor
and lieutenant-governor but also obtaining the two Congressional offices
from the eastern and western sections of the state. During
the month of November hardly a day passed when there was not some mention
of John Brown in the Rhode Island newspapers. On November
7, 1859, the Providence <Daily Journal> reprinted a letter sent
to John Brown from "E& B&", a Quaker lady in Newport. In
reference to Brown's raid she wrote, "though we are non-resistants
and religiously believe it better to reform by moral and not by carnal
weapons **h we know thee was anemated [<sic>] by the most generous
and philanthropic motives". "E& B&" compared John Brown
to Moses in that they were both acting to deliver millions from
oppression. In contrast to "E& B&", most Rhode Islanders
hardly thought of John Brown as being another Moses. Most attempts
to develop any sympathy for Brown and his actions found an unresponsive
audience in Rhode Island. On Wednesday evening, November
23, 1859, in Warren, Rev& Mark Trafton of New Bedford, gave
a "Mission of Sympathy" lecture in which he favorably viewed the
Harper's Ferry insurrection. The Warren <Telegraph> stated
that many of Rev& Trafton's remarks were inappropriate and savored
strongly of radicalism and fanaticism. In its account of the Trafton
lecture, the Providence <Daily Post> said that the remarks
of
Rev& Trafton made the people indignant. No sympathy or admiration
for Brown could be found in the Providence <Daily Post>,
for the editor claimed that there were a score of men in the state prison
who were a thousand times more deserving of sympathy. The Providence
<Daily Journal>, however, stated that Brown's courage, bravery,
and heroism "in a good cause would make a man a martyr; it gives
something of dignity even to a bad one". The Woonsocket <Patriot>
admitted that John Brown might deserve punishment or imprisonment
"but he should no more be hung than Henry A& Wise or James
Buchanan". The Newport <Mercury> exhibited more concern over
the possibility of the abolitionists making a martyr of Brown than it
did over the development of sympathy for him. In her letter
to John Brown, "E& B&", the Quakeress from Newport, had
suggested that the American people owed more honor to John Brown for
seeking to free the slaves than they did to George Washington. During
the latter days of November to the day of Brown's execution,
it seems that most Rhode Islanders did not concur in "E& B&'s"
suggestion. On November 22, 1859, the Providence <Daily Journal>
stated that although Brown's "pluck" and honest fanaticism
must be admired, any honor paid to Brown would only induce other fanatics
to imitate his actions. A week later the <Daily Journal>
had
discovered the initial plans of some Providence citizens to hold a
meeting honoring John Brown on the day of his execution. The editor
of the <Daily Journal> warned, "**h that if such a demonstration
be made, it will not find support or countenance from any of the men
whose names are recognized as having a right to speak for Providence".
The Providence <Daily Post>'s editor wrote that he could
not
believe that a meeting honoring Brown was to be held in Providence.
He further called upon the people of Providence to rebuke the meeting
and avoid disgrace. On December 2, 1859, John Brown was
hanged at Charles Town, Virginia. Extraordinary precautions were
taken so that no stranger be allowed in the city and no citizen within
the enclosure surrounding the scaffold. In many Northern towns and
cities meetings were held and church bells were tolled. Such was not
the case in Rhode Island. The <only> public demonstration in honor
of John Brown was held at Pratt's Hall in Providence, on the
day of his execution. Despite the opposition of the city newspapers,
the Pratt Hall meeting "brought together a very respectable
audience, composed in part of those who had been distinguished for years
for their radical views upon the subject of slavery, of many of our
colored citizens, and of those who were attracted to the place by the
novelty of such a gathering". Seated on the platform were Amos C&
Barstow, ex-mayor of Providence and a wealthy Republican stove
manufacturer; Thomas Davis, an uncompromising Garrisonian; the
Reverend Augustus Woodbury, a Unitarian minister; the Reverend
George T& Day, a Free-Will Baptist; Daniel w& Vaughan,
and William H& H& Clements. The latter two were appointed secretaries.
The first speaker was Amos C& Barstow who had been unanimously
chosen president of the meeting. He spoke of his desire to promote
the abolition of slavery by peaceable means and he compared John
Brown of Harper's Ferry to the John Brown of Rhode Island's
colonial period. Barstow concluded that as Rhode Island's John
Brown became a canonized hero, if not a saint, so would it be with
John Brown of Harper's Ferry. The next speaker was George
T& Day. Although admitting Brown's guilt on legal grounds,
Day said that, "Brown is no common criminal; his deed was not
below, but above the law".
Following Day was Woodbury who spoke of his
disapproval of Brown's attempt at servile insurrection, his admiration
of Brown's character, and his opposition to slavery. Woodbury's
remarks were applauded by a portion of the audience several times
and once there was hissing. The fourth and last speaker was Thomas
Davis. By this time large numbers of the audience had left the
hall. Davis commenced his remarks by an allusion to the general feeling
of opposition which the meeting had encountered from many of the
citizens and all the newspapers of the city. He said that the propriety
or impropriety of such a gathering was a question that was to be settled
by every man in accordance with the convictions of private judgments.
In the remainder of his speech Davis spoke of his admiration for
Brown and warned those who took part in the meeting that they "are
liable to the charge that they are supporting traitors and upholding
men whom the laws have condemned". He recalled that in Rhode Island
a party opposed to the state's condemnation of a man (Thomas W&
Dorr) proclaimed the state's action as a violation of the law
of the land and the principles of human liberty. At the close of Davis'
speech the following preamble and resolutions were read by the president,
and on the question of their adoption passed unanimously:

Whereas, John Brown has cheerfully risked his life in endeavoring

to deliver those who are denied all rights **h and is this day doomed
to suffer death for his efforts in behalf of those who have no helper:
Therefore, Resolved that, while we most decidedly disapprove
the methods he adopted to accomplish his objects, yet **h in his
willingness to die in aid of the great cause of human freedom, we still
recognize the qualities of a noble nature and the exercise of a spirit
which true men have always admired and which history never fails
to honor. Resolved that his wrongs and bereavements in Kansas,
occasioned by the violence and brutality of those who were intent on
the propagation of slavery in that territory, call for a charitable
judgment upon his recent efforts in Virginia to undermine the despotism
from which he had suffered, and commend his family to the special
sympathy and aid of all who pity suffering and reverence justice.

Resolved **h that the anti-slavery sentiment is becoming ripe for

resolute action. Resolved, that we find in this fearful tragedy
at Harper's Ferry a reason for more earnest effort to remove the
evil of slavery from the whole land as speedily as possible **h.

On the morning following the Pratt Hall meeting the editor of the
Providence <Daily Journal> wrote that although the meeting was
milder and less extreme than those held in other areas for similar purposes,
it could have been avoided completely.
Rather than being deceived, the eye is puzzled; instead of seeing objects
in space, it sees nothing more than- a picture. Through
1911 and 1912, as the Cubist facet-plane's tendency to adhere to
the literal surface became harder and harder to deny, the task of keeping
the surface at arm's length fell all the more to eye-undeceiving
contrivances. To reinforce, and sometimes to replace, the simulated
typography, Braque and Picasso began to mix sand and other foreign
substances with their paint; the granular texture thus created likewise
called attention to the reality of the surface and was effective
over much larger areas. In certain other pictures, however, Braque began
to paint areas in exact simulation of wood graining or marbleizing.
These areas by virtue of their abrupt density of pattern, stated the
literal surface with such new and superior force that the resulting
contrast drove the simulated printing into a depth from which it could
be rescued- and set to shuttling again- only by conventional perspective;
that is, by being placed in such relation to the forms depicted
within the illusion that these forms left no room for the typography
except near the surface. The accumulation of such devices,
however, soon had the effect of telescoping, even while separating,
surface and depth. The process of flattening seemed inexorable, and it
became necessary to emphasize the surface still further in order to
prevent it from fusing with the illusion. It was for this reason, and
no other that I can see, that in September 1912, Braque took the radical
and revolutionary step of pasting actual pieces of imitation-woodgrain
wallpaper to a drawing on paper, instead of trying to simulate
its texture in paint. Picasso says that he himself had already made
his first collage toward the end of 1911, when he glued a piece of
imitation-caning
oilcloth to a painting on canvas. It is true that his first
collage looks more Analytical than Braque's, which would confirm
the date he assigns it. But it is also true that Braque was the
consistent pioneer in the use of simulated textures as well as of typography;
and moreover, he had already begun to broaden and simplify the
facet-planes of Analytical Cubism as far back as the end of 1910.
##

When we examine what each master says was his first collage we
see that much the same thing happens in each. (It makes no real difference
that Braque's collage is on paper and eked out in charcoal,
while Picasso's is on canvas and eked out in oil.) By its greater
corporeal presence and its greater extraneousness, the affixed paper
or cloth serves for a seeming moment to push everything else into a more
vivid <idea> of depth than the simulated printing or simulated textures
had ever done. But here again, the surface-declaring device both
overshoots and falls short of its aim. For the illusion of depth created
by the contrast between the affixed material and everything else
gives way immediately to an illusion of forms in bas-relief, which gives
way in turn, and with equal immediacy, to an illusion that seems
to contain both- or neither. Because of the size of the areas
it covers, the pasted paper establishes undepicted flatness <bodily>,
as more than an indication or sign. Literal flatness now tends to
assert itself as the main event of the picture, and the device boomerangs:
the illusion of depth is rendered even more precarious than before.
Instead of isolating the literal flatness by specifying and circumscribing
it, the pasted paper or cloth releases and spreads it, and
the artist seems to have nothing left but this undepicted flatness with
which to finish as well as start his picture. The actual surface
becomes both ground and background, and it turns out- suddenly and paradoxically-
that the only place left for a three-dimensional illusion
is in <front> of, <upon>, the surface. In their very first collages,
Braque and Picasso draw or paint <over> and <on> the affixed
paper or cloth, so that certain of the principal features of their
subjects <as depicted> seem to thrust out into real, bas-relief space-
or to be about to do so- while the rest of the subject remains
imbedded in, or flat upon, the surface. And the surface is driven back,
in its very surfaceness, only by this contrast. In the upper
center of Braque's first collage, <Fruit Dish> (in Douglas
Cooper's collection), a bunch of grapes is rendered with such conventionally
vivid sculptural effect as to lift it practically off the picture
plane. The <trompe-l'oeil> illusion here is no longer enclosed
between parallel flatnesses, but seems to thrust through the surface
of the drawing paper and establish depth <on top> of it. Yet the
violent immediacy of the wallpaper strips pasted to the paper, and the
only lesser immediacy of block capitals that simulate window lettering,
manage somehow to push the grape cluster back into place on the picture
plane so that it does not "jump". At the same time, the wallpaper
strips themselves seem to be pushed into depth by the lines and
patches of shading charcoaled upon them, and by their placing in relation
to the block capitals; and these capitals seem in turn to be pushed
back by <their> placing, and by contrast with the corporeality
of the woodgraining. Thus every part and plane of the picture keeps
changing place in relative depth with every other part and plane; and
it is as if the only stable relation left among the different parts
of the picture is the ambivalent and ambiguous one that each has with
the surface. And the same thing, more or less, can be said of the contents
of Picasso's first collage. In later collages of both
masters, a variety of extraneous materials are used, sometimes in the
same work, and almost always in conjunction with every other eye-deceiving
and eye-undeceiving device they can think of. The area adjacent
to one edge of a piece of affixed material- or simply of a painted-in
form- will be shaded to pry that edge away from the surface, while
something will be drawn, painted or even pasted over another part of
the same shape to drive it back into depth. Planes defined as parallel
to the surface also cut through it into real space, and a depth is
suggested optically which is greater than that established pictorially.
All this expands the oscillation between surface and depth so as to
encompass fictive space in front of the surface as well as behind it.
Flatness may now monopolize everything, but it is a flatness become
so ambiguous and expanded as to turn into illusion itself- at least
an optical if not, properly speaking, a pictorial illusion. Depicted,
Cubist flatness is now almost completely assimilated to the literal,
undepicted kind, but at the same time it reacts upon and largely transforms
the undepicted kind- and it does so, moreover, without depriving
the latter of its literalness; rather, it underpins and reinforces
that literalness, re-creates it. ##

Out of this re-created literalness,

the Cubist subject reemerged. For it had turned out, by a
further paradox of Cubism, that the means to an illusion of depth and
plasticity had now become widely divergent from the means of representation
or imaging. In the Analytical phase of their Cubism, Braque
and Picasso had not only had to minimize three-dimensionality simply
in order to preserve it; they had also had to <generalize> it-
to the point, finally, where the illusion of depth and relief became abstracted
from specific three-dimensional entities and was rendered largely
as the illusion of depth and relief <as such:> as a disembodied
attribute and expropriated property detached from everything not itself.
In order to be saved, plasticity had had to be isolated; and
as the aspect of the subject
was transposed into those clusters of more or less interchangeable
and contour-obliterating facet-planes by which plasticity
was isolated under the Cubist method, the subject itself became largely
unrecognizable. Cubism, in its 1911-1912 phase (which the French,
with justice, call "hermetic") was on the verge of abstract art.

It was then that Picasso and Braque were confronted with

a unique dilemma: they had to choose <between> illusion and representation.
If they opted for illusion, it could only be illusion per se-
an illusion of depth, and of relief, so general and abstracted as
to exclude the representation of individual objects. If, on the other
hand, they opted for representation, it had to be representation per
se- representation as image pure and simple, without connotations (at
least, without more than schematic ones) of the three-dimensional space
in which the objects represented originally existed. It was the
collage that made the terms of this dilemma clear: the representational
could be restored and preserved only on the flat and literal surface
now that illusion and representation had become, for the first time,
mutually exclusive alternatives. In the end, Picasso and Braque
plumped for the representational, and it would seem they did so
deliberately. (This provides whatever real justification there is for
the talk about "reality".) But the inner, formal logic of Cubism,
as it worked itself out through the collage, had just as much to do
with shaping their decision. When the smaller facet-planes of Analytical
Cubism were placed upon or juxtaposed with the large, dense shapes
formed by the affixed materials of the collage, they had to coalesce-
become "synthesized"- into larger planar shapes themselves
simply in order to maintain the integrity of the picture plane. Left
in their previous atom-like smallness, they would have cut away too abruptly
into depth; and the broad, opaque shapes of pasted paper would
have been isolated in such a way as to make them jump out of plane.
Large planes juxtaposed with other large planes tend to assert themselves
as <independent> shapes, and to the extent that they are flat,
they also assert themselves as silhouettes; and independent silhouettes
are apt to coincide with the recognizable contours of the subject
from which a picture starts (if it does start from a subject). It was
because of this chain-reaction as much as for any other reason- that
is, because of the growing independence of the planar unit in collage
as a <shape>- that the identity of depicted objects, or at least
parts of them, re-emerged in Braque's and Picasso's <papiers colles>
and continued to remain more conspicuous there- but only as
flattened silhouettes- than in any of their paintings done wholly in
oil before the end of 1913. Analytical Cubism came to an end
in the collage, but not conclusively; nor did Synthetic Cubism fully
begin there. Only when the collage had been exhaustively translated
into oil, and transformed by this translation, did Cubism become
an affair of positive color and flat, interlocking silhouettes whose legibility
and placement created allusions to, if not the illusion of,
unmistakable three-dimensional identities. Synthetic Cubism began
with Picasso alone, late in 1913 or early in 1914; this was the
point at which he finally took the lead in Cubist innovation away from
Braque, never again to relinquish it. But even before that, Picasso
had glimpsed and entered, for a moment, a certain revolutionary path
in which no one had preceded him. It was as though, in that instant,
he had felt the flatness of collage as too constricting and had suddenly
tried to escape all the way back- or forward- to literal three-dimensionality.
This he did by using utterly literal means to carry
the forward push of the collage (and of Cubism in general) <literally>
into the literal space in front of the picture plane. Some
time in 1912, Picasso cut out and folded a piece of paper in the
shape of a guitar; to this he glued and fitted other pieces of paper
and four taut strings, thus creating a sequence of flat surfaces in real
and sculptural space to which there clung only the vestige of a picture
plane. The affixed elements of collage were extruded, as it were,
and cut off from the literal pictorial surface to form a bas-relief.
(Los Angeles in 1957 finally bowed to the skyscraper.) And without
high density in the core, rapid-transit systems cannot be maintained
economically, let alone built from scratch at today's prices.
However, the building of freeways and garages cannot continue forever.
The new interchange among the four Los Angeles freeways, including
the grade-constructed accesses, occupies by itself no less than <eighty
acres> of downtown land, one-eighth of a square mile, an area
about the size of Rockefeller Center in New York. It is hard to believe
that this mass of intertwined concrete constitutes what the law
calls "the highest and best use" of centrally located urban land.
As it affects the city's fiscal situation, such an interchange is
ruinous; it removes forever from the tax rolls property which should
be taxed to pay for the city services. Subways improved land values
without taking away land; freeways boost valuation less (because the
garages they require are not prime buildings by a long shot), and reduce
the acreage that can be taxed. Downtown Los Angeles is already
two-thirds freeway, interchange, street, parking lot and garage- one
of those preposterous "if" statistics has already come to pass.

The freeway with narrowly spaced interchanges concentrates and

mitigates the access problem, but it also acts inevitably as an artificial,
isolating boundary. City planners do not always use this boundary
as effectively as they might. Less ambitious freeway plans may be
more successful- especially when the roadways and interchanges are
raised, allowing for cross access at many points and providing parking
areas below the ramp. ##

Meanwhile, the automobile and its friend

the truck have cost the central city some of its industrial dominance.
In ever greater numbers, factories are locating in the suburbs or
in "industrial parks" removed from the city's political jurisdiction.
The appeal of the suburb is particularly strong for heavy industry,
which must move bulky objects along a lengthy assembly line and wants
enough land area to do the entire job on one floor. To light industry,
the economies of being on one floor are much slighter, but efficiency
engineers usually believe in them, and manufacturers looking for
ways to cut costs cannot be prevented from turning to efficiency engineers.

This movement of industry away from the central cities

is not so catastrophically new as some prophets seem to believe. It
is merely the latest example of the leapfrog growth which formed the pattern
of virtually all American cities. The big factories which are
relatively near the centers of our cities- the rubber factories in
Akron, Chrysler's Detroit plants, U&S&Steel's Pittsburgh
works- often began on these sites at a time when <that> was the
edge of the city, yet close to transport (river), storage (piers) and
power (river). The "leapfrog" was a phenomenon of the railroad and
the steam turbine, and the time when the belts of residence surrounding
the old factory area were not yet blighted. The truck and
the car gave the manufacturer a new degree of freedom in selecting his
plant site. Until internal combustion became cheap, he had to be near
a railroad siding and a trolley line or an existing large community
of lower-class homes. The railroad siding is still important- it
is usually, though not always, true that long-haul shipment by rail is
cheaper than trucking. But anybody who promises a substantial volume
of business can get a railroad to run a short spur to his plant these
days, and many businesses can live without the railroad. And there
are now many millions of workers for whom the factory with the big parking
lot, which can be reached by driving across or against the usual
pattern of rush hour traffic and grille-route bus lines, is actually
more convenient than the walk-to factory. Willow Run, General
Electric's enormous installations at Louisville and Syracuse, the
Pentagon, Boeing in Seattle, Douglas and Lockheed in Los Angeles,
the new automobile assembly plants everywhere- none of these is
substantially served by any sort of conventional mass rapid transit.
They are all suburban plants, relying on the roads to keep them supplied
with workers. And wherever the new thruways go up their banks are
lined by neat glass and metal and colored brick light industry. The
drive along Massachusetts' Route 128, the by-pass which makes an
arc about twenty miles from downtown Boston, may be a vision of the future.

The future could be worse. The plants along Route 128

are mostly well designed and nicely set against the New England rocks
and trees. They can even be rather grand, like Edward Land's monument
to the astonishing success of Polaroid. But they deny the values
of the city- the crowded, competitive, tolerant city, the "melting
pot" which gave off so many of the most admirable American qualities.
They are segregated businesses, combining again on one site
the factory and the office, drawing their work force from segregated
communities. It is interesting to note how many of the plants on Massachusetts'
Route 128 draw most of their income either from the government
in non-competitive cost-plus arrangements, or from the exploitation
of patents which grant at least a partial monopoly. ##

While
the factories were always the center of the labor market, they were
often on the city's periphery. In spreading the factories even farther,
the automobile may not have changed to any great extent the growth
pattern of the cities. Even the loss of hotel business to the outskirt's
motel has been relatively painless; the hotel-motel demarcation
is becoming harder to find every year. What hurts most is the damage
the automobile has done to central-city retailing, especially in
those cities where public transit is feeble. Some retailing,
of course, always spreads with the population- grocery stores, drugstores,
local haberdasheries and dress shops, candy stores and the like.
But whenever a major purchase was contemplated forty years ago- a
new bedroom set or a winter coat, an Easter bonnet, a bicycle for Junior-
the family set off for the downtown department store, where the
selection would be greatest. Department stores congregated in the
"one hundred per cent location", where all the transit lines converged.
These stores are still there, but the volume of the "downtown
store" has been on a relative decline, while in many cities the suburban
"branch" sells more and more dry goods. If the retailer and
hotelman's downtown unit sales have been decreasing, however, his dollar
volume continues to rise, and it is dollars which you put in the
bank. In most discussions of this phenomenon, the figures are
substantially inflated. No suburban shopping-center branch- not even
Hudson's vast Northland outside Detroit- does anything like
the unit volume of business or carries anything like the variety of merchandise
to be found in the home store. Telephone orders distort the
picture: the suburbanite naturally calls a local rather than a central-city
number if both are listed in an advertisement, especially if
the local call eliminates city sales tax. The suburban branch is thereby
credited with a sale which would have been made even if its glass
doors had never opened. Accounting procedures which continue to charge
a disproportionate overhead and warehouse expense to the main store
make the branches seem more profitable than they are. In many cases
that statement "We break even on our downtown operation and make money
on our branches" would be turned around if the cost analysis were
recalculated on terms less prejudicial to the old store. Fear of the
competition- always a great motivating force in the American economy-
makes retailers who do <not> have suburban operations exaggerate
both the volume and the profitability of their rival's shiny new
branches. The fact seems to be that very many large branch stores are
uneconomical, that the choice of location in the suburbs is as important
as it was downtown, and that even highly suburbanized cities will
support only so many big branches. Moreover, the cost of operations
is always high in <any> new store, as the conservative bankers who
act as controllers for retail giants are beginning to discover.

When all has been said, however, the big branch store remains a major
break with history in the development of American retailing. Just
as the suburban factory may be more convenient than the downtown plant
to the worker with a car, the trip to the shopping center may seem far
easier than to the downtown department store, though both are the same
distance from home. Indeed, there are some cities where the suburban
shopping pulls customers who are geographically much nearer to downtown.
Raymond Vernon reports that residents of East St& Louis
have been driving across the Mississippi, through the heart of downtown
St& Louis and out to the western suburbs for major shopping, simply
because parking is easier at the big branches than it is in the heart
of town. To the extent that the problem is merely parking, an aggressive
downtown management, like that of Lazarus Brothers in Columbus,
Ohio, can fight back successfully by building a garage on the lot
next door. If the distant patron of the suburban branch has been frightened
away from downtown by traffic problems, however, the city store
can only pressure the politicians to do something about the highways
or await the completion of the federal highway program. And if the
affection for the suburban branch reflects a desire to shop with "nice
people", rather than with the indiscriminate urban mass which supports
the downtown department store, the central location may be in serious
trouble. Today, according to land economist Homer Hoyt, shopping
centers and their associated parking lots cover some 46,000 acres
of land, which is almost exactly the total land area in all the nation's
Central Business Districts put together. The downtown
store continues to offer the great inducement of variety, both within
its gates and across the street, where other department stores are immediately
convenient for the shopper who wants to see what is available
before making up her mind. If anything may be predicted in the quicksilver
world of retailing, it seems likely that the suburban branch will
come to dominate children's clothing (taking the kid downtown is
too much of a production), household gadgetry and the discount business
in big-ticket items. Department stores were built on dry goods, especially
ladies' fashions, and in this area, in the long run, the suburban
branches will be hard put to compete against downtown. If this
analysis is correct, the suburban branches will turn out to be what management's
cost accountants refuse to acknowledge, marginal operations
rather than major factors. Historically in America the appeal
of cities has been their color and life, the variety of experience
they offered. "How ya gonna keep 'em down on the farm"? was
a question that had to be asked long before they saw Paree. Though
Americans usually lived in groups segregated by national origin or religious
belief, they liked to work and shop in the noise and vitality
of downtown. Only a radical change in the nature of the population in
the central city would be likely to destroy this preference- and we
must now turn our attention to the question of whether such a change,
gloomily foreseen by so many urban diagnosticians, is actually upon us.

#4. SUBURBS AND NEGROES#

In their book <American Skyline,>

Christopher Tunnard and Henry Hope Reed argue that Franklin Roosevelt's
New Deal was what made the modern suburb a possibility-
a fine ironical argument, when you consider how suburbanites tend to
vote. The first superhighways- New York's Henry Hudson and Chicago's
Lake Shore, San Francisco's Bay Bridge and its approaches,
a good slice of the Pennsylvania Turnpike- were built as
part of the federal works program which was going to cure the depression.
At the same time, Roosevelt's Federal Housing Administration,
coupled with Henry Morgenthau's cheap-money policy, permitted
ordinary lower-middle-class families to build their own homes. Bankers
who had been reluctant to lend without better security than the house
itself got that security from the U& S& government; householders
who had been unable to pick up the burden of short-term high-interest
mortgages found they could borrow for twenty-five years at 4 per
cent, under government aegis.
Before losing itself in the sands of the 19th Century, the grand stream
of Italian Renaissance architectural decoration made a last appearance
in the Brumidi frescos of the Capitol Rotunda in Washington.

The artistic generation after Brumidi was trained in the Paris

of that time to a more meticulous standard of execution, and tended
to overlook greatness of conception where faults and weakness were
easy to find. But it is a great conception. The open ceiling, with
allegorical and classical figures thrown in masses against the sky:
the closed frieze, formally divided into historical scenes and tightly
tied to the stone walls, belong in their large ordering to the line
of Correggio and his Baroque followers. The descent may be remote,
but this is surely the only full-scale example of that vigorous inheritance
in the United States. Constantino Brumidi designed the
decorative scheme as a whole, in collaboration with the architect Charles
U& Walter, at the time when plans were being made to replace
the wooden dome of Bullfinch with the present much larger iron structure.
After many years and many interruptions he was able to finish
the canopy fresco, and slightly less than half the frieze, beginning
with the Liberty group opposite the East door, and ending with William
Penn, all but one leg, when a tragic accident ended his career.
He left at his death sketches, drawn to scale, for the rest of the circle.
These were carried out not too faithfully by Filippo Costaggini,
who began by supplying the missing member to the founder of Pennsylvania
and noting in pencil, in Italian, that he "began at this point".

When Costaggini had used up all the sketches thirty-six

feet of empty frieze were left over. A blank undecorated void, plastered
in roughcast, disfigured the wall of the Rotunda until 1951. Then,
advised by the Architect of the Capitol, the Joint Committee
for the Library, traditionally responsible for the works of art in the
building, ordered the space cleared and painted in fresco, to show
"the Peace after the Civil War", "the Spanish-American War",
and "the Birth of Aviation", to match as nearly as feasible
Brumidi's technique and composition. Later the cleaning and restoration
were ordered, first of the older part of the frieze, finally of
the canopy. What follows is therefore a description of three separate
undertakings, the new frescoing of the gap, and the successive essays
in conservation, with some discussion of problems that arose in connection
with each. For the use of students and future restorers,
a full, day-by-day record was kept of all three undertakings, complete
technical reports on what we found and what we did. These may be consulted
in the office of the Architect of the Capitol, or the Library
of Congress. The first preliminary was inspecting the unfinished
length of frieze, a jumble of roughcast and finish coats, all
in
bad condition. It was decided to strip the whole area down to the bricks,
and to replace the rough coats up to one inch thickness to agree
with the older artists' preparation, with a mortar, one part slaked
lime, three parts sand, to be put on in two layers. Cartoons were drawn
full size, after sketches had been made to satisfy all the authorities.
There was some difficulty here. One had to manage the given subjects,
three diverse recent events, so as to make them part of a classical
frieze,- that is, a pattern of large figures filling the space,
with not much else, against a blank background. Moreover, all three
representations must be squeezed comfortably into little more than the
length Brumidi allowed for each one of his. When it was all
arranged to fit, and not to interrupt the lengthwise flow of movement
in the frieze, the cartoons were tried in place. The scaffolding, a
confusion of heavy beams hanging from the gallery above, was strong and
safe, but obscured visibility. Nothing could be seen from the floor,
but by moving around the gallery one could get glimpses; and we were
able to decide on some amplification of scale. To be sure of matching
color as well as form, pieces of cartoon were traced on the roughcast,
and large samples painted in fresco, then left two months to dry
out to their final key. Later it was gratifying to note that they had
set so solidly as to be hard to remove when the time came. The
scaffold was the length of the space to be painted. What bits of Brumidi
and Costaggini could be reached at either end seemed in good
order, though the roughish sandy surface was thick with dust. Washed,
they came out surprisingly clear and bright. It could be seen that
both artists used a very thick final coat of plaster, one half inch,
and that both followed the traditional Italian fresco technique as described
by Cennino Cennini in the 14th Century, and current in Italy
to this day. That is, they used opaque color throughout, getting solid
highlights with active lime white. Painting "a secco" is much
in evidence. A brown hatching reinforces and broadens shadows, and
much of the background is solidly covered with a dark coat. This brown
is sometimes so rich in medium as to appear to be oil paint.
In our own practice, to have the last "intonaco" plaster coat thick
enough to match, and at the same time to avoid fine cracks in
drying,
we found that it had to be put on in two layers, letting the first
set awhile before applying the second. The mortar was three parts sand
to two of lime. Some of the lime that is always on hand in the Capitol
basement for plaster repairs was slaked several months for us;
but to make it stiffer, of a really putty-like consistency to avoid cracking,
we added a little hydrated lime- hard on the hands, but we
could see no other disadvantage. I am told that a mortar longer slaked
might have remained longer in condition for painting. As it was, it
took the pigment well for six hours, enough for our purpose, and held
it firmly in setting. It was obvious that to match Brumidi, white must
be mixed with all but the darkest tones. Lime white, hard and brilliant,
has a tendency to "jump" away from the other colors in drying,
and also by its capacity to set, to preclude the use of ready-made
gradations, so useful in decorative work. In older Italian practice,
lime, dried and reground "bianco sangiovanni", entered into such
prepared shades. For convenience we chose a stronger pigment,
unknown
to the early Italians or to Brumidi, titanium oxide, reserving the
active lime white for highest lights, put on at the end of the day's
stint. Other pigments were mostly raw umber, some burnt umber, and
a little yellow ochre. This last was probably not in Brumidi's palette,
but was needed to take the chill, bluish look off the new work next
to the old, where softening effects
of time were seen, even after thorough
cleaning. The use of "secco" we tried to restrict to covering
joints. Experience showed, however, that it is very difficult to
paint a dark umber background in fresco that will not dry out spotty
and uneven. Later Brumidi and Costaggini will be seen coping with this
same problem. We were forced, as they were, to work a good deal of
tempera into background and dark areas. We made it by Doerner's
recipe, five parts thoroughly washed cheese curd to one of lime putty;
ground together they made a strong adhesive, which became waterproof
in drying. Figure 1 was taken in 1953. The new part is finished.
On the right is the Brumidi Liberty group, as it looked after
cleaning operations, which had not yet come around to the other end;
where, of Costaggini, only some foliage has been washed, at the point
where his work stopped. One is led to speculate as to why the empty
space was there, left for our century to finish. Costaggini said it
was Brumidi's fault in not providing enough material to fill the circle.
Brumidi's son later maintained that Costaggini had compressed
and mutilated his father's designs, ambitiously coveting a bit he
could claim for his very own. This question might be settled by comparing
the measurement of the actual circumference with the dimensions
noted, presumably in Brumidi's hand, above the various sections of
his long preparatory drawing, which has been kept. Whose ever
fault,
it is evident that Brumidi intended to fill out the whole frieze with
his "histories" and come full circle with the scene of the discovery
of California gold. In painting a fresco, the handling of wet mortar
compels one always to move from top to bottom and from left to right,
not to spoil yesterday's work with today's plastering. At the
very first, then, Brumidi was required, by the classically pyramidal
shape of his central group, to fill in the triangular space above the
seated girl on Liberty's right, before starting on the allegorical
figures themselves. Here he put a small man, whose missing hands
might have left his function doubtful, until comparison with the first
sketches showed that when the artist came back to the beginning, this
was to be the closing figure of the party of "forty-niners", and
was to hold a basket. One sees Costaggini's rendering of the same
figure more than thirty feet away. The photograph, Figure 1 of the completed
frieze, shows how, having been separated from his fellows in
useless isolation for eighty years, he has now been given a hand, and
by juxtaposition (and the permission of the Committee), given a new job,
to represent the witnesses of the first flight at Kitty Hawk in
1903. The startlingly bright effect of the first washings led
the Committee to order the rest of the Brumidi-Costaggini cycle cleaned
and restored to go with them. The fixed wooden scaffold was removed,
and, so as to reach all the frieze, one of pipe, on wheels, built
up from the floor. Every few days, in the early morning, as the work
progressed, twenty men would appear to push it ahead and to shift the
plank foundation that distributed its weight widely on the Rotunda
pavement, supported as it is by ancient brick vaulting. On this
giddy and oscillating platform over fifty feet from the floor, after
a first dusting, we began to wash. A most useful tool for wetting the
surface without running down was made from a greenhouse "mist spray"
nozzle welded to a hose connection, to be used at low water pressure.
A valve in the handle let us cut the pressure still lower. One
man sprayed, with a sponge in hand to check excess wetting. A second
assistant mopped with two sponges. In parts a repeated sponging was
needed, but everywhere we found that water alone was enough to restore
the original brightness. No soap or other cleaning agent was used that
might bring in unwanted chemical reactions. The painting "a fresco"
stood up superbly; a little of the "secco" came off. Necessary
retouching was put on at once. Altogether we found the craftsmanship
first rate, especially Brumidi's. We were greatly helped by
there being no traces of former restoring. Apparently not more than
dusting had ever been done, and not much of that. The plaster was sound,
the intonaco firmly attached all over, and the pigment solidly incorporated
with it in all but a few unimportant places. The greatest
source of trouble was rain which had repeatedly flowed from openings
above, soaking the surface and leaving streaks of dissolved lime,
very conspicuous even after cleaning, particularly in the "Landing
of Columbus", "Oglethorpe and the Indians", and "Yorktown".
Here the Architect, referring to the use of the Capitol as a
public building, not a museum, requested some repainting to maintain decorative
effect, rather than leaving blank, unsightly patches.
These frescos have had no care for eighty years. With naked gas jets
below and leaky windows above, enough to ruin wall paintings in any
medium, they have survived, in a building long unheated in winter, hot
and damp under the iron dome in summer.

Those whom I wish to address with this letter are for the most
part unknown to me. It may well be that, when Rudy Pozzatti and I
visited your country last spring, you were living and working close
to the places we saw and the streets we walked. As American artists,
it was natural that we would want to meet as many Soviet artists as
possible. This letter might not have been necessary had our efforts
to meet and talk with you been more successful. Even though we did not
see many of your faces, it appears now quite evident that a considerable
number of your profession heard, from those whom we had the fortune
to encounter, that we had been in your midst. I am very pleased that
quite a number of you found ways to communicate to me your desire to
hear of our reactions and experiences in the U&S&S&R&. I
can well understand your curiosity. We, ourselves, are always eager
to know how others feel about us and the way in which we live. it is
my hope that this written message and report will reach you through the
good offices of the Union of Soviet Artists. There should
be no reason to misinterpret or ignore the intent of this letter. Pozzatti
and I endeavored earnestly to record our impressions without the
prejudice that the anxiety of our time so easily provokes. The time-span
of little more than a month cannot entitle me to pose as an expert
on anything I saw. Too much damage is done by "experts" who
have spent even less time, if any at all, in the U&S&S&R&.

Nevertheless I consider it reasonable, because of my commitment

as an artist, to assume that the rights and responsibilities of creative
individuals are related to humanity as a whole rather than to specific
geo-political interests. If this attitude is seriously questioned
in the Soviet Union, it does not necessarily follow that the majority
of the society in which I live is too aware of the necessity for
clarity on this ethical as well as aesthetic point of view. It is
a matter of some disappointment to me that still many of my own countrymen
are too shortsighted to ascribe any symbolic significance to the
plight of a minority, such as artists, in any social order. I encountered
many questions and great interest upon my return from the Soviet Union
about my reactions to that experience. That which I found most
profound and most disturbing appeared to evoke a curiously muted reaction.
Almost as if I were talking about something quite unreal. Apparently
this is not the time and the climate in which people will listen
objectively, or at least dispassionately, to individual impressions
of a subject which preoccupies a good deal of their waking moments. Personal
predispositions tend to blunt the ear and, in turn, the voice
as well. I cannot be content with the anecdotal small talk of a somewhat
unusual travelogue. I am equally impatient with the shrug of the
shoulder, shake of the head of those who no longer care because they
have known it for so long; the aggressive disbelief of those who are
romantically lost in a semantic jungle of the word "Revolution";
the belligerent denunciations by the sick fanatics of ignorance who
try to build a papier-mache wall of pseudo-patriotism on our physical
horizons. Difficult as it may have been at times, Pozzatti and I saw
enough, talked to enough artists, historians and others to realize
that the issue is quite clear. Artists and poets are the raw nerve-ends
of humanity; they are small in number and their contribution is not
immediately decisive in everyday life. By themselves they may not
be able to save the life on this planet, but without them there would
be very little left worth saving. It cannot be said that our
very first day in the Soviet Union turned out to be an ordinary one.
On that cold, but bright, April day we were guests of your government
in the reviewing stand of Red Square to witness the poeple's celebration
for Yuri Gagarin and later on that day we attended the somewhat
more exclusive reception for him in one of the impressive palaces
of the Kremlin. If we thus spent our very first day in the midst of
a large number of your people honoring a new hero and a great national
achievement, our last day, to us at least, was equally impressive and
very moving, even though the crowds were absent and there was almost
complete silence. We stood under a gigantic tree in the rolling country
just outside of Moscow looking at silent flowers on the grave of
a Russian poet and writer who cherished the love for his country to
the point of foregoing the highest international honor. The grave, about
half-way between his home and the blue turrets of a small church,
rose above the forms and spaces of gently undisciplined pastures of green,
the sounds of birds, the silence of other graves and the casual
paths through small forests. Just yesterday we had met and talked with
a living writer, a contemporary of the dead poet, who is known for his
ability of manipulating his ideas and his craft more advantageously.
But today we were aware of only two men. One had taken a flight into
uncharted space, in the service of science, to return as a living hero.
The other had assumed the right to explore the equally uncharted
space of the human spirit. The flowers on his grave attested to the
fact that he as well was somebody's hero. These two recollections
form the frame around a series of experiences and sights which,
to me at least, symbolize the extremes in the aesthetic as well as ethical
conflict between materialism and humanism. A struggle that is
being waged all over the world in the half-light of disinterest. The
prevalent opinion which we encountered in a variety of expressions in
your country denied not only the existence of this conflict but it was
elaborated even further with an incredible semantic dexterity. The socialist
environment, it was stated, had cross-fertilized these two extreme
seeds and was about to produce a new plant and fruit. When I speculated
on one such occasion that the new growth, like other mutations,
might be unable to propagate, I was immediately accused of preaching
racial prejudice. I could not bring myself to answer that "some
of my best friends are non-propagating mules". This kind of
reasoning and logic takes a little time to get used to. After a while
we were perhaps less surprised, but still puzzled, when a friendly
discussion would suddenly jump the track into the most irrelevant and
illogical comparisons. A chance remark about Lenin's sealed train
brought the rejoinder that this was a myth akin to George Washington's
cherry tree. Theories of the behavior pattern of population masses
were compared to scientific discoveries concerning the motion-pattern
of gaseous masses. No wonder that Pozzatti and I had at times difficulty
in remembering the real purpose of our presence, namely, Cultural
Exchange. Typical of such an experience was the occasion
of a somewhat formal official welcome in the offices of the Union
of Soviet Artists. We had looked forward to what we hoped to be our
first informal meeting with a number of Moscow's artists. Instead,
we became involved in a series of friendly, but overly formal, welcoming
addresses to which we had no choice but to reply in kind. The terms
of friendship, understanding, cooperation, etc&, tend to become
somewhat shopworn because of constant and indiscriminate use. I can only
hope that the continuing exchange of groups and individuals between
our countries will not wear out all language pertinent to the occasion.
The presiding female functionary, of massive proportions and forbidding
appearance, initially did not contribute to the expressions of
friendship and welcome by a number of dignified gentlemen representing
the arts. It was only after we had responded, with what I fear were
similar cliches, that she went into action by questioning our desire
for friendship and understanding with a challenge about aggressive and
warlike actions by the U&S& Government in Cuba and Laos. She
retreated by leaving the room when we suggested that our meeting might
well terminate right then and there. Unfortunately she returned later,
just as I had taken advantage of the friendlier atmosphere in the
room by stating that perhaps an unexpected result of the Cultural Exchange
Program would be the re-emergence of Abstract Art in Russia,
with Social Realism regaining dominance in the U&S&. This
gave her an opportunity to ring down the curtain with the petulant admonition
that we should not presume to lecture her on Abstraction. She
did not go so far as to say, as was done on other occasions, that
Abstraction as well as Impressionism were a Russian invention that
had been discarded as unwanted by the people of the U&S&S&R&
Pozatti and I could not know then that we would experience
this sort of treatment more often in Moscow than elsewhere. We were
to discover, in fact, that quite a number of people share with us the
impression that, in contrast to other Soviet regions, Moscow's atmosphere
is depressingly subdued and official. To have one's intentions
deliberately or unintentionally misunderstood is always a waste
of time. Until our Moscow experience, I had not considered it necessary
to prepare any argument formally or informally. Artists simply do
not talk to each other in that fashion; and, furthermore, I could
not presume the implication that I spoke for American artists as a
group. To save time, some clarification seemed necessary. The following
is a statement read to a large and friendly group of your fellow artists
in Leningrad: "We have come to your land with the
express intention of understanding and respecting your ideas and your
ways. Our presence here should also be considered further, sincere evidence
of the attempts by our people and their chosen government to seek
any and all possible ways to effect closer, peaceful ties among all
people. We are quite convinced that one of the main hopes for the future
depends upon the informal contacts and exchanges of ideas between
individuals.

In spite of the relatively short period of time that we

have experienced among you, we have already seen many indications of
your character and spirit. We are acutely aware that yours is a society
which, in spite of several wars and many privations, has developed
itself into one of the foremost nations of the world. Your past history
is resplendent with the fruits of the intellect. Your present history
is equally admirable for its industrial and scientific achievements.

We have come to you to experience something of your way of life

while
also attempting to acquaint you with that of ours. While we, as American
artists,
believe deeply in the universal character of all intellectual
activity, we would be less than honest with you, or ourselves,
if we failed to state a specific attitude toward our own society as
well as the international community as a whole. In stating this position,
we should like to make it clear to you that we cannot expect artists
and intellectuals in other lands to share our opinion in every respect.
As a matter of fact, we prize the diversity among our own people
so much that we will not presume to speak for all other American artists.
But certainly, all will agree that it is not so much the knowledge
and search for similarities between you and us, but rather the thoughtful
exploration and acceptance of our differences which may lead
us to our respective and desired goals with a minimum of misunderstanding.

Like yourselves, we have pride and love for our country.

To many of us, this is a land to which we or our parents fled from totalitarian
terror in order to live in dignified freedom. As artists we
feel the same obligation, as do other individuals, in considering ourselves
responsible citizens of a great nation.
##

<The Sane Society> is an ambitious work. Its scope is as

broad as the question: What does it mean to live in modern society?
A work so broad, even when it is directed by a leading idea and informed
by a moral vision, must necessarily "fail". Even a hasty reader
will easily find in it numerous blind spots, errors of fact and
argument, important exclusions, areas of ignorance and prejudice, undue
emphases on trivia, examples of broad positions supported by flimsy
evidence, and the like. Such books are easy prey for critics. Nor need
the critic be captious. a careful and orderly man, who values precision
and a kind of tough intellectual responsibility, might easily be
put off by such a book. It is a simple matter, for one so disposed, to
take a work like <The Sane Society> and shred it into odds and
ends. The thing can be made to look like the cluttered attic of a large
and vigorous family- a motley jumble of discarded objects, some outworn
and some that were never useful, some once whole and bright but
now chipped and tarnished, some odd pieces whose history no one remembers,
here and there a gem, everything fascinating because it suggests
some part of the human condition- the whole adding up to nothing more
than a glimpse into the disorderly history of the makers and users.

That could be easily done, but there is little reason in it.

It would come down to saying that Fromm paints with a broad brush,
and
that, after all, is not a conclusion one must work toward but an impression
he has from the outset. I mention these features of the book
because they are inherent in the book's character and therefore must
be mentioned. It would be superfluous to build a critique around them.
There are more substantial criticisms to be made of Fromm's account
of capitalist civilization. It is worthwhile to recall that
Fromm's treatment has both descriptive and normative aspects. Since
I have already discussed his moral position, that discussion is
incorporated by reference into the following pages, which will focus
on the empirical and analytic side of Fromm's treatment. I shall
first indicate a couple of weaknesses in Fromm's analysis, then argue
that, granted these weaknesses, he still has much left that is valuable,
and, finally, raise the general question of a philosophical versus
a sociological approach to the question of alienation. Almost
no empirical work has been done on the problem of alienation. Despite
its rather long intellectual history, alienation is still a promising
hypothesis and not a verified theory. The idea has received much
attention in philosophy, in literature, and in a few works of general
social criticism, such as <The Sane Society>. What is missing is
work that would answer, presumably by the use of survey methods and Guttman-type
attitude scales, such questions as these: What are the
components
of the feeling-state described as alienation? How widespread
is alienation? What is its incidence among the various classes
and subgroups of the population? Taking alienation as a dependent variable,
with what socio-structural factors is it most highly associated?
Considered as an independent variable, how does it affect behavior
in various sectors of life? Until such work is done, there must
remain the nagging suspicion that alienation may be little more than
an expression of the malaise of the intellectual, who, rejected by and
in turn rejecting the larger society, projects his own fear and despair
onto the broader social screen. I am not suggesting that
Fromm ought to do this kind of work. Nor do I think that alienation
is nothing more than a projection of the malaise of the intellectual.
I am saying only that until a fuller and different kind of evidence
comes in, any discussion of alienation must be understood to have certain
important limitations. Until such evidence appears, we must
make do with the evidence we have. Here, perhaps, Fromm is vulnerable,
for he does not always use the best and most recent evidence available,
and he sometimes selects and interprets the evidence in rather
special ways. Three examples follow. Fromm's analysis of alienation
in the sphere of production centers around the concepts of the
bureaucratization of the corporation, the separation of ownership from
control, and the broad (and thus from the point of view of corporate
control, ineffective) dispersion of stock ownership. For all these
points he relies exclusively on Berle and Means's study of 1932, <The
Modern Corporation and Private Property>. The broad conclusions
of that pioneering work remain undisturbed, but subsequent research
has expanded and somewhat altered their empirical support, has suggested
important revisions in the general analytic frame of reference, and
has sharpened the meaning of particular analytic concepts in this area.
Fromm seems unaware of these developments. Another example
is his very infrequent use of the large amount of data from surveys
designed to discover what and how people actually do feel and think on
a broad
range of topics: he cites such survey-type findings just three
times. Moreover, the conclusions he draws from the findings are not
always the only ones possible. For example, he cites the following
data from two studies on job satisfaction: in the first study, 85 per
cent of professionals and executives, 64 per cent of white collar people,
and 41 per cent of factory workers expressed satisfaction with
their jobs; in the second study, the percentages were 86 for professionals,
74 for managerial persons, 42 for commercial employees, 56 for
skilled workers, and 48 for semi-skilled workers. He concludes that
these
data show a "remarkably high" percentage of consciously dissatisfied
and unhappy persons among factory and clerical workers. Starting
from other value premises than Fromm's, some analysts might conclude
that the percentages really tell us very little at all, while others
might even conclude that the figures are remarkably low. Eric Hoffer,
for example, once said that America was a paradise- the only
one in the history of the world- for workingmen and small children.
What matters is that while Fromm's reading of the data is not the
only one possible, it is precisely the one we would expect from a writer
who earnestly believes that every man can and ought to be happy and
satisfied. Fromm also cites a poll on attitudes toward work restriction
conducted by the Opinion Research Corporation in 1945, in which
49 per cent of manual workers said a man ought to turn out as much as
he could in a day's work, while 41 per cent said he should not do
his best but should turn out only the average amount. Fromm says these
data show that job dissatisfaction and resentment are widespread. That
is one way to read the findings, but again there are other ways. One
might use such findings to indicate the strength of informal primary
associations in the factory, an interpretation which would run counter
to Fromm's theory of alienation. Or, he might remind Fromm that
the 41 per cent figure is really astonishingly low: after all, the
medieval guild system was dedicated to the proposition that 100 per
cent of the workers ought to turn out only the average amount; and today's
trade unions announce pretty much the same view. In view
of these shortcomings in both the amount and the interpretation of
survey-type findings on public opinion, and considering the criticisms
which can be brought against Fromm's philosophical anthropology,
such a passage as the following cannot be taken seriously. "Are people
happy, are they as satisfied, unconsciously, as they believe themselves
to be? Considering the nature of man, and the conditions for
happiness, this can hardly be so". The ambiguities suggested
above stem from a more basic difficulty in Fromm's style of thought.
He seems to use the term alienation in two different ways. Sometimes
he uses it as a subjective, descriptive term, and sometimes as an
objective, diagnostic one. That is, sometimes it is used to <describe
felt> human misery, and other times it is postulated to <explain unfelt>
anxiety and discontent. The failure to keep these two usages
distinct presents hazards to the reader. It also permits Fromm to do
some dubious things with empirical findings. When alienation is used
as an objective and diagnostic category, for example, it becomes clear
that Fromm would have to say that awareness of alienation goes far
toward conquering it. (He in effect does say this in his discussion of
the pseudo-happiness of the automaton conformist.) Starting from this,
and accepting his estimate of the iniquities of modern society, it
would follow that the really disturbing evidence of alienation would
be that of a work-satisfaction survey which reported widespread, stated
worker satisfaction, rather than widespread, stated worker dissatisfaction.

The point is that in a system such as Fromm's which

recognizes unconscious motivations, and which rests on certain ethical
absolutes, empirical data can be used to support whatever proposition
the writer is urging at the moment. Thus, in the example cited above
Fromm rests his whole case on the premise that the workers are being
deprived unconsciously, unknowingly, of fulfillment, and then supports
this with survey data reporting conscious, experienced frustrations.
He has his cake and eats it too: if the workers say they are dissatisfied,
this shows conscious alienation; if they say they are satisfied,
this shows unconscious alienation. This sort of manipulation is
especially troublesome in Fromm's work because, although his system
is derived largely from certain philosophic convictions, he asserts
that it
is based on empirical findings drawn both from social science and
from his own consulting room. While the "empirical psychoanalytic"
label which Fromm claims sheds no light on the validity of his underlying
philosophy, it does increase the marketability of his product.

The final example of the failure to use available evidence,

though evidence of a different kind from that which has so far been considered,
comes from Fromm's treatment of some other writers who have
dealt with the same themes. In a brief chapter dealing with "Various
Other Diagnoses", he quotes isolated passages from some writers
whose views seem to corroborate his own, and finds it "most remarkable
that a critical view of twentieth-century society was already held
by a number of thinkers living in the nineteenth **h". He finds
it equally "remarkable that their critical diagnosis and prognosis
should have so much in common among themselves and with the critics of
the twentieth century". There is nothing remarkable about this at
all. It is largely a matter of finding passages that suit one's purposes.
There is a difference between evidence and illustration, and Fromm's
citation of the other diagnosticians fits the latter category.
Glance at the list: Burckhardt, Tolstoy, Proudhon, Thoreau,
London, Marx, Tawney, Mayo, Durkheim, Tannenbaum, Mumford, A&
R& Heron, Huxley, Schweitzer, and Einstein. This is a delightfully
motley collection. One can make them say the same thing only by
not listening to them very carefully and hearing only what one wants
to hear. The method of selection Fromm uses achieves exactly that. Furthermore,
the list is interesting for its omissions. It omits, for
example, practically the whole line of great nineteenth century English
social critics, nearly all the great writers whose basic position
is religious, and all those who are with more or less accuracy called
Existentialists. Of course, the list also excludes all writers who are
fairly "optimistic" about the modern situation; these, almost
by definition, are spokesmen for an alienated ideology. It is not hard
to find that concurrence of opinion which Fromm finds so remarkable
when you ignore all who hold a different opinion. Turning from
these problems of the use of evidence, one meets another type of difficulty
in Fromm's analysis, which is his loose and ambiguous use
of certain important terms. One such instance has already been presented:
his use of alienation. The only other one I shall mention here
is his use of the term capitalism. For Fromm, capitalism is
the enemy, the root of all evil. It is of course useful to have a sovereign
cause in one's social criticism, for it makes diagnosis and
prescription much easier than they might otherwise be.

If one characteristic distinguishes <Boris Godunov>, it is

the consistency with which every person on the stage- including the
chorus- comes alive in the music. Much of this lifelike quality results
from Mussorgsky's care in basing his vocal line on natural speech
inflections. In this he followed a path that led back to the very
source of opera; such composers as Monteverdi, Lully and Purcell,
with the same goal in mind, had developed styles of recitative sensitively
attuned to their own languages. Through long experimentation
in his songs, Mussorgsky developed a Russian recitative as different
from others as the language itself. Giving most of his musical continuity
to the orchestra, he lets the speech fall into place as if by coincidence,
but controlling the pace and emphasis of the words.
The moments of sung melody, in the usual sense, come most often when
the character is actually supposed to be singing, as in folk songs and
liturgical chants. Otherwise Mussorgsky reserves his vocal melodies
for prolonged expressions of emotion- Boris' first monologue, for
example. Even then, the flexibility of the phrasing suggests that
the word comes first in importance. Aside from Boris himself,
one need but examine the secondary roles to place Mussorgsky among
the masters of musical portraiture. Even those who appear in only one
or two scenes are full personalities, defined with economical precision.
Consider the four monks who figure prominently in the action:
Pimen, Varlaam, Missail and the Jesuit Rangoni. Under no circumstances
could we mistake one for the other; each musical setting has
an individual touch. Pimen is an old man, weak in body- his
voice rarely rises to a full <forte>- but firm and clear of mind.
His calmness offers contrast to Grigori's youthful excitement. A
quiet but sturdy theme, somewhat folklike in character, appears whenever
the old monk speaks of the history he is recording or of his own past
life: @ This theme comes to represent the outer world, the
realm of battles and banquets- seen from a distance, quite distinct
from the quieter spiritual life in the monastery. It changes and develops
according to the text; it introduces Pimen when he comes before
Boris in the last act. Once he has been identified, however, a
new melody is used to accompany his narrative, a bleak motif with barren
octaves creating a rather ancient effect: @ An imaginative
storyteller, Pimen takes on the character he describes, as if he
were experiencing the old shepherd's blindness and miraculous cure.
Here the composer uses a favorite device of his, the intensification
of the mood through key relationships. The original ~D minor seems
to symbolize blindness, inescapable in spite of all attempts to move
away from it. As the child addresses the shepherd in a dream, light-
in the form of the major mode- begins to appear, and at the moment
of the miracle we hear a clear and shining ~D major. Varlaam
and Missail always appear together and often sing together, in a straightforward,
rhythmically
vigorous idiom that distinguishes them from
the more subtle and well-educated Pimen. Their begging song might
easily be a folk melody: @ The same could be said for the
song to which they make their entrance in the final scene. Apparently
their origin is humble, their approach to life direct and unsophisticated.
Whatever learning they may have had in their order doesn't disturb
them now. Missail is the straight man, not very talkative,
mild-mannered when he does speak. Varlaam is loud, rowdy, uninhibited
in his pleasures and impatient with anyone who is not the same. A
rough <ostinato> figure, heard first in the introduction to the inn
scene, characterizes him amusingly and reappears whenever he comes into
the action: @ The Song of Kazan, in which this figure
becomes a wild-sounding accompaniment, fills in the picture of undisciplined
high spirits. The phrasing is irregular, and the abrupt key
changes have a primitive forcefulness. (We can imagine how they startled
audiences of the 1870's.) Varlaam's music begins to ramble
as he feels the effects of the wine, but he pulls himself together
when the need arises. Both monks respond to the guard's challenge
with a few phrases of their begging song; a clever naturalistic touch
is Varlaam's labored reading of the warrant. As the knack gradually
comes back to him, his rhythm becomes steadier, with the rigid monotony
of an unskilled reader. For the only time in the opera, words
are <not> set according to their natural inflection; to do so would
have spoiled the dramatic point of the scene. Musically and
dramatically, Rangoni is as far removed from the conventional monk as
Varlaam. His music shows a sensuality coupled with an eerie quality
that suggest somehow a blood-kinship with Dappertutto in Offenbach's
<Hoffman>. His speech shows none of the native accent of the
Russian characters; in spite of the Italian name, he sounds French.
His personality appears more striking by contrast with Marina, who
is- perhaps purposely- rather superficially characterized.

Rangoni's first entrance is a musical shock, a sudden open fifth

in a key totally unrelated to what has preceded it. The effect is as
if he had materialized out of nowhere. He speaks quietly, concealing
his authority beneath a smooth humility, just as the shifting harmonies
that accompany him all but hide the firm pedal point beneath them.
He addresses Marina with great deference, calling her "Princess"
at first; it is only after he has involved her emotions in his scheme
that he uses her given name, placing himself by implication in the
position of a solicitous father. Curiously, this scene is a close
parallel to one that Verdi was writing at the same time, the scene
between Amonasro and Aida. Rangoni and Amonasro have the same
purpose- forcing the girl to charm the man she loves into serving her
country's cause- and their tactics are much the same. Rangoni begins
by describing the sad state of the Church; this brings a reaction
of distress from Marina. The music becomes ethereal as he calls
up a vision of her own sainthood: it is she, he tells her, who can
bring the truth to Russia and convert the heretics. As if in a trance,
she repeats his words- then realizes, with a shock, her own audacity.
This is no assignment for a frivolous girl, she assures him.

Now Rangoni comes to the point, and we hear, for the first time,
a long, downward chromatic scale that will become the characteristic
motif of his sinister power. It is a phrase as arresting as a magician's
gesture, with a piquant turn of harmony giving an effect of strangeness.
Another theme, sinuously chromatic, appears as he directs her
to gain power over Grigori by any means, even at the cost of her honor.
Coming from a priest, the music sounds as odd as the advice:
@ Marina rebels at this suggestion. Her pride is as much at
stake as her virtue; she is the unattainable beauty, the princess who
turns away suitors by the dozen. Indignantly she denounces Rangoni
for his evil thoughts and orders him to leave her. At once the
Jesuit pulls out all the stops. To music of a menacing darkness,
he describes the powers of Satan gaining control of the girl, poisoning
her soul with pride and destroying her beauty. The combined threat
of hell-fire and ugliness is too much for her, and she falls terrified
at his feet. With another sudden change of mood, he is again calm and
protective, exhorting her to trust and obey him as God's spokesman-
and the chromatic scale descends in ominous contradiction. Whatever
the source of Rangoni's power, Marina is his captive now; we
are reminded of this at the end of the next scene, when his theme cuts
through the warmth of the love duet, again throwing a chill over the
atmosphere. The most unusual feature of <Boris>, however,
is the use of the greatest character of all, the chorus. This is the
real protagonist of the drama; the conflict is not Boris versus Grigori
or Shuiski or even the ghost of the murdered child, but Boris
versus the Russian people. Mussorgsky makes this quite clear by the
extent to which choral scenes propel the action. Boris' first entrance
seems almost a footnote to the splendor of the Coronation Scene,
with its dazzling confusion of tonalities. We have a brief glimpse
of the Tsar's public personality, the "official Boris", but our
real focus is on the excitement of the crowd- a signigicant contrast
with its halfhearted acclamation in the opening scene, its bitter
resentment and fury in the final act. One reason for the unique
vitality of the chorus is its great variety in expression. It rarely
speaks as a unit. Even in its most conventional appearance, the guests'
song of praise to Marina, there are a few female dissenters criticizing
the princess for her coldness. In many passages- for example,
the council of boyars- each section of the chorus becomes a character
group with a particular opinion. Hot arguments arise between
tenors and basses, who will sing in harmony only when they agree on an
idea. The opening scene shows this method at its most individual.
Mussorgsky paints a telling picture of the common people, those
who must suffer the effects of their rulers' struggle for power without
understanding the causes. They are held in control by force, but
barely. They will kneel and plead for Boris' leadership in a strangely
intense song, its phrases irregularly broken as if gasping for breath,
but when the police with their cudgels move away, they mock and
grumble and fight among themselves. There is a quick change from the
plaintive song to a conversational tone. "Hey, Mityukh", asks one
group, "what are we shouting about"? And Mityukh, apparently
the intellectual leader of the crowd, replies that he has no notion.
The jokes and arguments grow louder until the police return; then
the people strike up their song with even more fervor than before, ending
it with a wail of despair. Mussorgsky frequently uses liturgical
music with considerable dramatic force. In Pimen's cell the
soft prayers of the monks, heard from offstage, not only help to set
the scene but emphasize the contrast between young Grigori's thoughts
and his situation. This is especially striking between Pimen's
quiet exit and Grigori's vehement outburst against Boris.
Again, as Boris feels himself nearing death, a procession files into
the hall singing a hymn, its modal harmonies adding a churchly touch
to the grim atmosphere: @ The words are hardly calculated
to put the Tsar's mind at ease. They echo the words with which
he has described his own vision of the dying child who "trembles and
begs for mercy- and there is no mercy". The living as well as
the dead now accuse him; this final reminder of his guilt is the fatal
one. One of the outstanding assets of the present production
is the restoration of the St& Basil's scene, usually omitted
from performances and rarely included in a published score. Though brief,
it has a sharp dramatic edge and great poignancy. In addition,
it is an important link in the plot, giving us a revealing glimpse of
the people's attitude toward Boris and the false Dimitri. The mayhem
in the forest of Kromy is a natural sequel. The St& Basil's
scene opens with little groups of beggars milling around the
square, the ever present police keeping them under scrutiny. In the
orchestra we hear first a hushed, hesitant <pizzicato> figure, then
the insistent "police" motif as it appeared in the opening scene.

The service is over, and a number of people come from the church
with their spokesman Mityukh in the lead. They bring the news that
the Pretender has been excommunicated; this is met with scorn by
the hearers, who claim that Mityukh is lying or drunk. (Mussorgsky cleverly
contrasts the two groups by their orchestral accompaniment, solemn
chords or mocking staccatos.) There is still more news, Mityukh
announces: they have prayed for the soul of the Tsarevich.
SO FAR THESE remarks, like most criticisms of Hardy, have tacitly
assumed that his poetry is all of a piece, one solid mass of verse
expressing a sensibility at a single stage of development. For critics,
Hardy has had no poetic periods- one does not speak of early Hardy
or late Hardy, or of the London or Max Gate period, but simply
of Hardy, as of a poetic monolith. This seems odd when one recalls
that he wrote poetry longer than any other major English poet: "Domicilium"
is dated "between 1857 and 1860"; "Seeing the
Moon Rise" is dated August, 1927. One might expect that in a poetic
career of seventy-odd years, some changes in style and method would
have occurred, some development taken place. This is not, however,
the case, and development is a term which we can apply to Hardy
only in a very limited sense. In a time when poetic style, and poetic
belief as well, seem in a state of continual flux, Hardy stands out
as a poet of almost perverse consistency. Though he struggled with
philosophy all his life, he never got much beyond the pessimism of his
twenties; the "sober opinion" of his letter to Noyes, written
when Hardy was eighty years old, is essentially that of his first "philosophical"
notebook entry, made when he was twenty-five:
"The
world does not despise us: it only neglects us" (<Early Life,>
p& 63). And though in his later years he revised his poems many
times, the revisions did not alter the essential nature of the style
which he had established before he was thirty; so that, while it usually
is easy to recognize a poem by Hardy, it is difficult to date one.

There is only one sense in which it is valid to talk about

Hardy's development: he did develop toward a more consistent and
more effective control of that tone which we recognize as uniquely his.
There is only one Hardy style, but in the earlier poems that style
is only intermittently evident, and when it is not, the style is the
style of another poet, or of the fashion of the time. In the later poems,
however, the personal tone predominates. The bad early poems are
bad Shakespeare or bad Swinburne; the bad late poems are bad
Hardy.

There are two ways of getting at a poet's development:

through his dated poems, and through the revisions which he made in later
editions of his work. About a quarter of Hardy's poems carry
an appended date line, usually the year of completion, but sometimes inclusive
years ("1908-1910") or two separate dates when Hardy worked
on the poem ("1905 and 1926") or an approximate date ("During
the War"). These dates are virtually the only clues we have to
the chronology of the poems, since the separate volumes are neither chronological
within themselves nor in relation to each other. With the
exception of <Satires of Circumstance,> each volume contains dated
poems ranging over several decades (<Winter Words> spans sixty-one
years); the internal organization rarely has any chronological order,
except in obvious groups like the "Poems of Pilgrimage", the
"Poems of 1912-13", and the war poems. From the dated poems
we can venture certain conclusions about Hardy's career in poetry,
always remembering that conclusions based on a fraction of the whole
must remain tentative. The dated poems suggest that while Hardy's
concern with poetry may have been constant, his production was not.
He had two productive periods, one in the late 1860's, the other
in the decade from 1910 to 1920 (half of the dated poems are from the
latter period, and these alone total about one-tenth of all Hardy's
poems). There was one sterile period: only one poem is dated between
1872 and 1882 and, except for the poems written on the trip to Italy
in 1887, very few from 1882 to 1890. The dated poems also
give us an idea of the degree to which Hardy drew upon past productions
for his various volumes, and therefore probably are an indication
of the amount of poetry he was writing at the time. <Poems of the Past
and the Present> and <Time's Laughingstocks,> both published
while Hardy was at work on <The Dynasts,> draw heavily on poems
written before 1900. <Satires of Circumstance> and <Moments of
Vision,> coming during his most productive decade, are relatively self-contained;
the former contains no poem dated before 1909-10- that
is, no poem from a period covered by a previous volume- and the
latter has only a few such. The last three volumes are again more dependent
on the past, as Hardy's creative powers declined in his old
age. These observations about Hardy's productivity tally with
the details of his life as we know them. The first productive period
came when he was considering poetry as a vocation, before he had decided
to write fiction for a living (in his note for <Who's Who>
he wrote that he "wrote verses 1865-1868; gave up verse for prose,
1868-70; but resumed it later"). During the poetically sterile
years he was writing novels at the rate of almost one a year and was,
in addition, burdened with bad health (he spent six months in bed in 1881,
too ill to do more than work slowly and painfully at <A Laodicean>).
Two entries in the <Early Life> support the assumption that
during this period Hardy had virtually suspended the writing of poetry.
Mrs& Hardy records that "**h at the end of November [1881]
he makes a note of an intention to resume poetry as soon as possible"
(<Early Life,> p& 188); and on Christmas Day, 1890, Hardy
wrote: "While thinking of resuming 'the viewless wings of
poesy' before dawn this morning, new horizons seemed to open, and worrying
pettinesses to disappear" (<Early Life,> p& 302). There
are more poems dated in the 1890's than in the '80's- Hardy
had apparently resumed the viewless wings as he decreased the volume
of his fiction- but none in 1891, the year of <Tess>, and only one
in 1895, the year of <Jude>. After 1895 the number increases, and
in the next thirty years there is only one year for which there is no
dated poem- 1903, when Hardy was at work on <The Dynasts>.

The second productive period, the decade from 1910 to 1920, can
be related to three events: the completion of <The Dynasts> in 1909,
which left Hardy free of pressure for the first time in forty years;
the death of Emma Hardy in 1912, which had a profound emotional
effect on Hardy for which he found release in poetry; and the First
World War. It may seem strange that a poet should come to full
fruition in his seventies, but we have it on Hardy's own authority
that "**h he was a child till he was sixteen, a youth till he was
five-and-twenty,
and a young man till he was nearly fifty" (<Early
Life,>
p& 42). We may carry this sequence one step further and say
that at seventy he was a poet at the height of his powers, wanting only
the impetus of two tragedies, one personal, the other national, to
loose those powers in poetry. Hardy's two productive decades
were separated by forty years, yet between them he developed only in
that he became more steadily himself- it was a narrowing, not an expanding
process. Like a wise gardener, Hardy pruned away the Shakespearian
sonnets and songs, and the elements of meter and poetic diction
to which his personal style was not suited, and let the main stock
of his talent flourish. The range of the later poetry is considerably
narrower, but the number of successful poems is far greater. We
can see the general characteristics of the earlier decade if we look
at two poems of very different qualities: "Revulsion" (1866)
and "Neutral Tones" (1867). There is not much to be said for "Revulsion".
Like about half of the 1860-70 poems, it is a sonnet
on a conventional theme- the unhappiness of love. Almost anyone could
have written it; it is competent in the sense that it makes a coherent
statement without violating the rules of the sonnet form, but it
is entirely undistinguished and entirely unlike Hardy. The language
is the conventional language of the form; there is no phrase or image
that sounds like Hardy or that is striking enough to give individuality
to the poem. It is smoother than Hardy usually is, but with the
smoothness of anonymity. It is obviously a young man's poem, written
out of books and not out of experience; it asserts emotion
without evoking it- that is to say, it is sentimental. There are many
such competently anonymous performances among the earlier poems.

"Neutral Tones" we immediately recognize as a fine poem in

Hardy's most characteristic style: the plain but not quite colloquial
language, the hard, particular, colorless images, the slightly odd
stanza-form, the dramatic handling of the occasion, the refusal to
resolve the issue- all these we have seen in Hardy's best poems.
The poem does not distort the syntax of ordinary speech nor draw on exotic
sources of diction, yet it is obviously <not> ordinary speech-
only Hardy would say "a grin of bitterness swept thereby/Like an
ominous bird a-wing", or "wrings with wrong", or would describe
a winter sun as "God-curst". The details of the setting
of "Neutral Tones" are not, strictly speaking, metaphorical, but
they combine to create a mood which is appropriate both to a dismal
winter day and to the end of love, and in this way love and weather, the
emotions and the elements, symbolize each other in a way that is common
to many of Hardy's best poems ("Weathers", "The Darkling
Thrush", and "During Wind and Rain", for example) and to
some moving passages in the novels as well (<Far From the Madding
Crowd> is full of scenes constructed in this way). "Neutral
Tones" is an excellent example of Hardy's mature style, drawn
from his earliest productive period; I cite it as evidence that he
did not develop through new styles as he grew older (as Yeats did),
but that he simply learned to use better what he already had. In the
poem we recognize and acknowledge one man's sense of the world; if
it is somber, it is also precise, and the precision lends authority to
the vision. In "Revulsion", on the other hand, the pessimism is
a case not proven; the poem offers nothing to persuade us of the speaker's
right to speak as he does. In the 1860-70 decade there are
many poems like "Revulsion", but there is only one "Neutral Tones".
Hardy was not Hardy very often. The "Poems of 1912-13"
offer a good example of Hardy's style as it was manifested
in the later productive decade. These are the poems Hardy wrote after
the death of his first wife; they compose a painful elegy to what
might have been, to a marriage that began with a promise of happiness,
and ended in long years of suffering and hatred. Hardy obviously felt
that these poems were peculiarly personal and private; he sometimes
called them "an expiation", and he would not allow them to be published
in periodicals. They are the only poems that he rearranged as
a group between their first appearance (in <Satires of Circumstance>)
and the publication of the <Collected Poems>. The elegiac
tone is Hardy's natural tone of voice, and it is not surprising
that the 1912-13 poems are consistently and unmistakably his. The
view is always toward the past; but the mood is not quite nostalgic-
Hardy would not allow sentiment to soften his sense of the irredeemable
pastness of the past, and the eternal deadness of the dead. The
poems are, the epigraph tells us, the "traces of an ancient flame";
the fire of love is dead, and Hardy stands, as the speaker does
in the last poem of the sequence, over the burnt circle of charred sticks,
and thinks of past happiness and present grief, honest and uncomforted.
Critically invisible, modern revolt, like X-rays and radioactivity,
is perceived only by its effects at more materialistic social levels,
where
it is called delinquency. "Disaffiliation", by the way,
is the term used by the critic and poet, Lawrence Lipton, who has
written several articles on this subject, the first of which, in the
<Nation,> quoted as epigraph, "We disaffiliate **h"- John L&
Lewis. Like the pillars of Hercules, like two ruined Titans
guarding the entrance to one of Dante's circles, stand two
great dead juvenile delinquents- the heroes of the post-war generation:
the great saxophonist, Charlie Parker, and Dylan Thomas. If
the word deliberate means anything, both of them certainly deliberately
destroyed themselves. Both of them were overcome by the horror
of the world in which they found themselves, because at last they
could no longer overcome that world with the weapon of a purely lyrical
art. Both of them were my friends. Living in San Francisco I saw
them seldom enough to see them with a perspective which was not distorted
by exasperation or fatigue. So as the years passed, I saw them
each time in the light of an accelerated personal conflagration.

The last time I saw Bird, at Jimbo's Bob City, he was so

gone-
so blind to the world- that he literally sat down on me before he
realized I was there. "What happened, man"? I said, referring
to the pretentious "Jazz Concert". "Evil, man, evil", he
said, and that's all he said for the rest of the night. About dawn
he got up to blow. The rowdy crowd chilled into stillness and the fluent
melody spiraled through it. The last time I saw Dylan,
his self-destruction had not just passed the limits of rationality. It
had assumed the terrifying inertia of inanimate matter. Being with
him was like being swept away by a torrent of falling stones.
Now Dylan Thomas and Charlie Parker have a great deal more in common
than the same disastrous end. As artists, they were very similar.
They were both very fluent. But this fluent, enchanting utterance had,
compared with important artists of the past, relatively little content.
Neither of them got very far beyond a sort of entranced rapture
at his own creativity. The principal theme of Thomas's poetry was
the ambivalence of birth and death- the pain of blood-stained creation.
Music, of course, is not so explicit an art, but anybody who knew
Charlie Parker knows that he felt much the same way about his own
gift. Both of them did communicate one central theme: Against the
ruin of the world, there is only one defense- the creative act. This,
of course, is the theme of much art- perhaps most poetry. It is
the theme of Horace, who certainly otherwise bears little resemblance
to Parker or Thomas. The difference is that Horace accepted his theme
with a kind of silken assurance. To Dylan and Bird it was an agony
and terror. I do not believe that this is due to anything especially
frightful about their relationship to their own creativity. I believe
rather that it is due to the catastrophic world in which that creativity
seemed to be the sole value. Horace's column of imperishable
verse shines quietly enough in the lucid air of Augustan Rome. Art
may have been for him the most enduring, orderly, and noble activity
of man. But the other activities of his life partook of these values.
They did not actively negate them. Dylan Thomas's verse had to
find endurance in a world of burning cities and burning Jews. He was
able to find meaning in his art as long as it was the answer to air
raids and gas ovens. As the world began to take on the guise of an immense
air raid or gas oven, I believe his art became meaningless to him.
I think all this could apply to Parker just as well, although, because
of the nature of music, it is not demonstrable- at least not
conclusively. Thomas and Parker have more in common than theme,
attitude, life pattern. In the practice of their art, there is an
obvious technical resemblance. Contrary to popular belief, they were
not great technical innovators. Their effects are only superficially
startling. Thomas is a regression from the technical originality and
ingenuity of writers like Pierre Reverdy or Apollinaire. Similarly,
the innovations of bop, and of Parker particularly, have been vastly
overrated by people unfamiliar with music, especially by that ignoramus,
the intellectual jitterbug, the jazz aficionado. The tonal novelties
consist in the introduction of a few chords used in classical music
for centuries. And there is less rhythmic difference between progressive
jazz, no matter how progressive, and Dixieland, than there is
between two movements of many conventional symphonies. What Parker
and his contemporaries- Gillespie, Davis, Monk, Roach (Tristano
is an anomaly), etc&- did was to absorb the musical ornamentation
of the older jazz into the basic structure, of which it then became
an integral part, and with which it then developed. This is true
of the melodic line which could be put together from selected passages
of almost anybody- Benny Carter, Johnny Hodges. It is true of
the rhythmic pattern in which the beat shifts continuously, or at least
is continuously sprung, so that it becomes ambiguous enough to allow
the pattern to be dominated by the long pulsations of the phrase or
strophe. This is exactly what happened in the transition from baroque
to rococo music. It is the difference between Bach and Mozart.

It is not a farfetched analogy to say that this is what Thomas

did to poetry. The special syntactical effects of a Rimbaud or an Edith
Sitwell- actually ornaments- become the main concern. The metaphysical
conceits, which fascinate the Reactionary Generation still
dominant in backwater American colleges, were embroideries. Thomas's
ellipses and ambiguities are ends in themselves. The immediate
theme, if it exists, is incidental, and his main theme- the terror of
birth- is simply reiterated. This is one difference between
Bird and Dylan which should be pointed out. Again, contrary to popular
belief, there is nothing crazy or frantic about Parker either musically
or emotionally. His sinuous melody is a sort of nai^ve transcendence
of all experience. Emotionally it does not resemble Berlioz
or Wagner; it resembles Mozart. This is true also of a painter
like Jackson Pollock. He may have been eccentric in his behavior,
but his paintings are as impassive as Persian tiles. Partly this difference
is due to the nature of verbal communication. The insistent talk-aboutiveness
of the general environment obtrudes into even the most
idyllic poetry. It is much more a personal difference. Thomas certainly
wanted to tell people about the ruin and disorder of the world.
Parker and Pollock wanted to substitute a work of art for the world.

Technique pure and simple, rendition, is not of major importance,

but it is interesting that Parker, following Lester Young, was
one of the leaders of the so-called saxophone revolution. In modern
jazz, the saxophone is treated as a woodwind and played with conventional
embouchure. Metrically, Thomas's verse was extremely conventional,
as was, incidentally, the verse of that other tragic enrage, Hart
Crane. I want to make clear what I consider the one technical
development in the first wave of significant post-war arts. Ornament
is confabulation in the interstices of structure. A poem by Dylan
Thomas, a saxophone solo by Charles Parker, a painting by Jackson
Pollock- these are pure confabulations as ends in themselves. Confabulation
has come to determine structure. Uninhibited lyricism should
be distinguished from its exact opposite- the sterile, extraneous
invention of the corn-belt metaphysicals, or present blight of poetic
professors. Just as Hart Crane had little influence on anyone
except very reactionary writers- like Allen Tate, for instance,
to whom Valery was the last word in modern poetry and the felicities
of an Apollinaire, let alone a Paul Eluard were nonsense- so Dylan
Thomas's influence has been slight indeed. In fact, his only
disciple- the only person to imitate his style- was W& S& Graham,
who seems to have imitated him without much understanding, and
who has since moved on to other methods. Thomas's principal influence
lay in the communication of an attitude- that of the now extinct
British romantic school of the New Apocalypse- Henry Treece, J&
F& Hendry, and others- all of whom were quite conventional
poets. Parker certainly had much more of an influence. At one
time it was the ambition of every saxophone player in every high school
band in America to blow like Bird. Even before his death this influence
had begun to ebb. In fact, the whole generation of the founding
fathers of bop- Gillespie, Monk, Davis, Blakey, and the
rest-
are just now at a considerable discount. The main line of development
today goes back to Lester Young and by-passes them. The point
is that many of the most impressive developments in the arts nowadays
are aberrant, idiosyncratic. There is no longer any sense of continuing
development of the sort that can be traced from Baudelaire to
Eluard, or for that matter, from Hawthorne through Henry James to
Gertrude Stein. The cubist generation before World War /1,, and,
on a lower level, the surrealists of the period between the wars, both
assumed an accepted universe of discourse, in which, to quote Andre
Breton, it was possible to make definite advances, exactly as in the
sciences. I doubt if anyone holds such ideas today. Continuity exits,
but like the neo-swing music developed from Lester Young, it is
a continuity sustained by popular demand. In the plastic arts,
a very similar situation exists. Surrealists like Hans Arp and Max
Ernst might talk of creation by hazard- of composing pictures by
walking on them with painted soles, or by tossing bits of paper up in
the air. But it is obvious that they were self-deluded. Nothing looks
anything like an Ernst or an Arp but another Ernst or Arp. Nothing
looks less like their work than the happenings of random occasion.
Many of the post-World War /2, abstract expressionists, apostles
of the discipline of spontaneity and hazard, look alike, and do look
like accidents. The aesthetic appeal of pure paint laid on at random
may exist, but it is a very impoverished appeal. Once again what has
happened is an all-consuming confabulation of the incidentals, the accidents
of painting. It is curious that at its best, the work of this
school of painting- Mark Rothko, Jackson Pollock, Clyfford Still,
Robert Motherwell, Willem de-Kooning, and the rest- resembles
nothing so much as the passage painting of quite unimpressive painters:
the mother-of-pearl shimmer in the background of a Henry McFee,
itself a formula derived from Renoir; the splashes of light and
black which fake drapery in the fashionable imitators of Hals and Sargent.
Often work of this sort is presented as calligraphy- the pure
utterance of the brush stroke seeking only absolute painteresque values.
You have only to compare such painting with the work of, say,
Sesshu, to realize that someone is using words and brushes carelessly.

At its best the abstract expressionists achieve a simple rococo

decorative surface. Its poverty shows up immediately when compared
with Tiepolo, where the rococo rises to painting of extraordinary profundity
and power. A Tiepolo painting, however confabulated, is a
universe of tensions in vast depths. A Pollock is an object of art-
bijouterie- disguised only by its great size. In fact, once the size
is big enough to cover a whole wall, it turns into nothing more than
extremely expensive wallpaper. Now there is nothing wrong with complicated
wallpaper. There is just more to Tiepolo. The great Ashikaga
brush painters painted wallpapers, too- at least portable ones,
screens. A process of elimination which leaves the artist with
nothing but the play of his materials themselves cannot sustain interest
in either artist or public for very long. So, in the last couple
of years, abstract expressionism has tended toward romantic suggestion-
indications of landscape or living figures.

ANGLO-SAXON and Greek epic each provide on two occasions

a seemingly authentic account of the narration of verse in the heroic
age. Hrothgar's court bard sings of the encounters at Finnsburg (lines
1068-1159), and improvises the tale of Beowulf's exploits in
a complimentary comparison of the Geatish visitor with Sigemund (lines
871-892); Alcinou^s' court bard sings of the discovered adultery
of Ares and Aphrodite (<Odyssey> /8,.266-366), and takes up
a tale of Odysseus while the Ithacan wanderer listens on (<Odyssey>
/8,.499-520). Nothing in all this is autobiographical: unlike
the poets of <Deor> and <Widsith>, the poet of <Beowulf> is
not concerned with his own identity; the poet of the <Odyssey>,
reputed blind, reveals himself not at all in singing of the blind minstrel
Demodocus. Since none of these glimpses of poetizing without writing
is intended to incorporate a signature into the epic matter, there
is prima-facie evidence that <Beowulf> and the Homeric poems each
derive from an oral tradition. That such a tradition lies behind
the <Iliad> and the <Odyssey>, at least, is hard to deny. Milman
Parry rigorously defended the observation that the extant Homeric
poems are largely formulaic, and was led to postulate that they could
be shown entirely formulaic if the complete corpus of Greek epic survived;
he further reasoned that frequent formulas in epic verse indicate
oral composition, and assumed the slightly less likely corollary
that oral epic is inclined towards the use of formulas. Proceeding from
Parry's conclusions and adopting one of his schemata, Francis P&
Magoun, Jr&, argues that <Beowulf> likewise was created from
a legacy of oral formulas inherited and extended by bards of successive
generations, and the thesis is striking and compelling. Yet a fresh
inspection will indicate one crucial amendment: <Beowulf> and
the Homeric poems are not at all formulaic to the same extent.

The bondage endurable by an oral poet is to be estimated only by a

very skilful oral poet, but it appears safe to assume that no sustained
narrative in rhyme could be composed without extreme difficulty, even
in a language of many terminal inflections. Assonance seems nearly
as severe a curb, although in a celebrated passage William of Malmesbury
declares that a <Song of Roland> was intoned before the battle
commenced at Hastings. The Anglo-Saxon alliterative line and the
Homeric hexameter probably imposed less of a restraint; the verse
of <Beowulf> or of the <Iliad> and the <Odyssey> was not easy
to create but was not impossible for poets who had developed their talents
perforce in earning a livelihood. Yet certain aids were valuable
and quite credibly necessary for reciting long stretches of verse without
a pause. The poet in a written tradition who generally never blots
a line may once in a while pause and polish without incurring blame.
But the oral poet cannot pause; he must improvise continuously
with no apparent effort. Even though the bondage of his verse is not
so great as the writing poet can manage, it is still great enough for
him often to be seriously impeded unless he has aids to facilitate rapid
composition. The Germanic poet had such aids in the kennings, which
provided for the difficulties of alliteration; the Homeric poet
had epithets, which provided for recurring needs in the hexameter. Either
poet could quickly and easily select words or phrases to supply
his immediate requirements as he chanted out his lines, because the kennings
and the epithets made possible the construction of systems of numerous
synonyms for the chief common and proper nouns. Other synonyms
could of course serve the same function, and for the sake of ease I
shall speak of kennings and epithets in the widest and loosest poss1ble
sense, and name, for example, <Gar-Dene> a kenning for the Danes.
Verbal and adverbial elements too participated in each epic diction,
but it is for the present sufficient to mark the large nominal and
adjectival supply of semantic near-equivalents, and to designate the
members of any system of equivalents as basic formulas of the poetic
language. Limited to a few thousand lines of heroic verse in Anglo-Saxon
as in the other Germanic dialects, we cannot say how frequently
the kennings in <Beowulf> recurred in contemporary epic on the same
soil. But we can say that since a writing poet, with leisure before
him, would seem unlikely to invent a technique based upon frequent and
substantial circumlocution, the kennings like the epithets must reasonably
be ascribed to an oral tradition. One of the greatest
Homerists of our time, Frederick M& Combellack, argues that when
it is assumed the <Iliad> and the <Odyssey> are oral poems, the
postulated single redactor called Homer cannot be either credited with
or denied originality in choice of phrasing. Any example of grand
or exquisite diction may have been created by the poet who compiled numerous
lays into the two works we possess or may be due to one of his
completely
unknown fellow-craftsmen. The quest of the historical Homer
is likely never to have further success; no individual word in the
<Iliad> or the <Odyssey> can be credited to any one man; no strikingly
effective element of speech in the extant poems can with assurance
be said not to have been a commonplace in the vaster epic corpus
that may have existed at the beginning of the first millennium before
Christ. This observation is of interest not only to students of Homeric
poetry but to students of Anglo-Saxon poetry as well. To the
extent that a tale is twice told, its final author must be suspect, although
plagiarism in an oral tradition is less a misdemeanor than the
standard <modus dicendi>. Combellack argues further, and here
he makes his main point, that once the <Iliad> and the <Odyssey>
are thought formulaic poems composed for an audience accustomed to
formulaic poetry, Homeric critics are deprived of an entire domain they
previously found arable. With a few important and a few more unimportant
exceptions, no expression can be deemed <le mot juste> for its
context, because each was very probably the only expression that long-established
practice and ease of rapid recitation would allow. Words
or phrases that connoisseurs have admired as handsome or ironic or
humorous must therefore lose merit and become regarded as mere inevitable
time-servers, sometimes accurate and sometimes not. This observation
too may have reference to Anglo-Saxon poetry. To the extent that
a language is formulaic, its individual components must be regarded
as no more distinguished than other cliches. W& F& Bryan
suggests that certain kennings in <Beowulf> were selected sometimes
for appropriateness and sometimes for ironic inappropriateness, but
such a view would appear untenable unless it is denied that the language
of <Beowulf> is formulaic. If the master of scops who was most
responsible for the poem ever used kennings that were traditional, he
was at least partly deprived of free will and not inclined towards shrewd
and sophisticated misuse of speech elements. Once many significant
phrases are found in theory or in recurrent practice to provide for
prosodic necessity, they are not to be defended for their semantic properties
in isolated contexts. It is false to be certain of having discovered
in the language of <Beowulf> such effects as intentional irony.

Yet, if the argument is turned awry, there may be found a

great deal in Bryan's view, after all. A formulaic element need not
be held meaningless merely because it was selected with little conscious
reflection. Time-servers though the periphrastic expressions are,
they may nevertheless be handsome or ironic or humorous. A long evolution
in an oral tradition caused the poetic language of the heroic
age to be based upon formulas that show the important qualities of things,
and these formulas are therefore potentially rather than always actually
accurate. True, we do not know how they were regarded in their
day, but we need not believe the epic audience to have been more insensitive
to the formulas than the numerous scholars of modern times who
have read Germanic or Homeric poetry all their lives and still found
much to admire in occasional occurrences of the most familiar phrases.
Nouns and adjectives in a written tradition are chosen for the nonce;
in an oral tradition they may be chosen for the entire epic corpus,
and tend towards idealization rather than distinctive delineation.
Reliance is therefore not to be placed upon the archaeological particulars
in an oral poem; no-one today would hope to discover the unmistakable
ruins of Heorot or the palace of Priam. A ship at dry-dock
could be called a foamy-necked floater in Anglo-Saxon or a swift
ship in Greek. Even when defenseless of weapons the Danes would be
<Gar-Dene> (as their king is Hrothgar) and Priam would be |e|u|m|m|e|l|i|h|s.
Achilles, like Siegfried in the <Nibelungenlied>,
is potentially the swiftest of men and may accordingly
be called swift-footed even when he stands idle. In <Coriolanus>
the agnomen of Marcius is used deliberately and pointedly, but the
Homeric epithets and the Anglo-Saxon kennings are used casually and
recall to the hearer "a familiar story or situation or a useful or
pleasant quality of the referent". The epic language was not entirely
the servant of the poet; it was partly his master. The poet's
intentions are difficult to discern and, except to biographers, unimportant;
the language, however, is a proper object of scrutiny, and the
effects of the language are palpable even if sometimes inevitable.
<Beowulf> and the Homeric poems appear oral compositions. Yet
they are written; at some stage in their evolution they were transcribed.
Albert B& Lord suggests that the Homeric poems were dictated
to a scribe by a minstrel who held in his mind the poems fully matured
but did not himself possess the knowledge of writing since it
would
be useless to his guild, and Magoun argues that the <Beowulf>
poet and Cynewulf may have dictated their verse in the same fashion.
This explanation is attractive, but is vitiated at least in part by
the observation that Cynewulf, though he used kennings in the traditional
manner, was a literate man who four times inscribed his name by runes
into his works. If Cynewulf was literate, the <Beowulf> poet
may have been also, and so may the final redactor of the <Iliad> and
the <Odyssey>. In lieu of the amanuensis to the blind or illiterate
bard, one may conceive of a man who heard a vast store of oral poetry
recited, and became intimately familiar with the established aids
to poetizing, and himself wrote his own compositions or his edition of
the compositions of the past. Other theories of origin are compatible
with the formulaic theory: <Beowulf> may contain a design for
terror, and the <Iliad> may have a vast hysteron-proteron pattern answering
to a ceramic pattern produced during the Geometric Period in
pottery. The account of the growth and final transcription of these
epics rests partly, however, upon the degree to which they were formulaic.

Carl Eduard Schmidt counted 1804 different lines repeated

exactly in the two Homeric poems, and by increasing this figure so
as to include lines repeated with very slight modifications he counted
2118 different lines used a total of 5612 times. Thus one line in
five from the <Iliad> and the <Odyssey> is to be found somewhere
else in the two poems. The ratio is thoroughly remarkable, because the
lines are so long- half again as long as those of <Beowulf>. Anglo-Saxon
poetry appears to have no comparable amount of repetition;
there is no reason to think that the scop used and re-used whole lines
and even lengthy passages after the manner of his Homeric colleague.
In determining the extent to which any poem is formulaic it is idle,
however, to inspect nothing besides lines repeated in their entirety,
for a stock of line-fragments would be sufficient to permit the poet
to extemporize with deftness if they provided for prosodic needs.
The closest scrutiny is owed to the Anglo-Saxon kennings and the Homeric
epithets; if any words or phrases are formulaic, they will be.

The <Iliad> has two words for the shield, |a|s|p|i|s

and |s|a|k|o|s.
RECENT CRITICISM OF <Great Expectations> has tended to emphasize
its symbolic and mythic content, to show, as M& D& Zabel has
said of Dickens generally, that much of the novel's impact resides
in its "allegoric insight and moral metaphor". J& H& Miller's
excellent chapter on <Great Expectations> has lately illustrated
how fruitfully that novel can be read from such a perspective.
In his analysis, however, he touches upon but fails to explore an idea,
generally neglected in discussions of the book, which I believe is
central to its art- the importance of human hands as a recurring feature
of the narrative. This essay seeks to make that exploration.

Dickens was not for nothing the most theatrical of the great Victorian
writers. He knew instinctively that next to voice and face an
actor's hands are his most useful possession- that in fiction as
in the theatre, gesture is an indispensable shorthand for individualizing
character and dramatizing action and response. It is hardly accidental,
therefore, that many of his most vivid figures do suggestive or
eccentric things with their hands. In <Great Expectations> the hands
become almost an obsession. Mr& Jaggers habitually bites his
forefinger,
a gesture which conveys both contempt and the inscrutable abstractedness
that half fascinates, half terrifies all who have dealings with him.
Miss Havisham's withered hands, heavy as if her unhappiness were
somehow concentrated in them, move in restless self-pity between her
broken heart and her walking stick. Pumblechook's "signature"
is the perpetually extended glad hand. Wemmick reveals his self-satisfaction
by regularly rubbing his hands together. Old Mr& Pocket's
frantic response to life imprisonment with a useless, social-climbing
wife is to "put his two hands into his disturbed hair" and "make
an extraordinary effort to lift himself up by it", (23) whereas
Joe Gargery endures the shrewish onslaughts of Mrs& Joe by apologetically
drawing "the back of his hand across and across his nose".
(7) Such mannerisms would be less worthy of remark, were it
not that in <Great Expectations>, as in no other of Dickens' novels,
hands serve as a <leitmotif> of plot and theme- a kind of unifying
symbol or natural metaphor for the book's complex of human interrelationships
and the values and attitudes that motivate them. Dickens
not only reveals character through gesture, he makes hands a crucial
element of the plot, a means of clarifying the structure of the novel
by helping to define the hero's relations with all the major characters,
and a device for ordering such diverse themes as guilt, pursuit,
crime, greed, education, materialism, enslavement (by both people
and institutions), friendship, romantic love, forgiveness, and redemption.
We have only to think of Lady Macbeth or the policeman-murderer
in Thomas Burke's famous story, "The Hands of Mr& Ottermole",
to realize that hands often call up ideas of crime and punishment.
So it is with <Great Expectations>, whether the hands be
Orlick's
as he strikes down Mrs& Gargery or Pip's as he steals a
pie from her pantry. Such associations suit well with the gothic or
mystery-story aspects of Dickens' novel, but, on a deeper plane, they
relate to the themes of sin, guilt, and pursuit that have recently
been analyzed by other critics. The novel opens with a fugitive
convict frantically trying to avoid the nemesis of being "laid hands
on"- (3) a mysterious figure who looks into Pip's frightened
eyes in the churchyard "as if he were eluding the hands of the dead
people, stretching up cautiously out of their graves, to get a twist
upon his ankle and pull him in". (1) Magwitch terrifies Pip into
stealing a pork pie for him by creating the image in the boy's imagination
of a bogy man who may "softly creep **h his way to him and tear
him open", (1) "imbruing his hands" (2) in him. As Pip agonizes
over the theft that his own hands have committed, his guilty conscience
projects itself upon the wooden finger of a local signpost, transforming
it into "a phantom devoting me to the Hulks". (3) Held
upside down in the graveyard, Pip clings in terror "with both hands"
(1) to his convict; later he flees in panic from the family table
just as his theft is about to be discovered and is blocked at the
front door by a soldier who accusingly holds out a pair of handcuffs which
he has brought to Gargery's forge for mending. Through such details
Dickens indicates at the outset that guilt is a part of the ironic
bond between Pip and Magwitch which is so unpredictably to alter
both their lives. Since they commonly translate thoughts and
feelings into deeds, hands naturally represent action, and since nearly
half the characters in <Great Expectations> are of the underworld
or closely allied to it, the linking of hands with crime or violence
is not to be wondered at. Dickens, for excellent psychological reasons,
never fully reveals Magwitch's felonious past, but Pip, at the
convict's climactic reappearance in London, shrinks from clasping
a hand which he fears "might be stained with blood". (39) Orlick
slouches about the forge "like Cain" with "his hands in his pockets",
(15) and when he shouts abuse at Mrs& Joe for objecting
to his holiday, she claps her hands in a tantrum, beats them "upon her
bosom and upon her knees", (15) and clenches them in her husband's
hair. This last "rampage" is only the prelude to the vicious
blow upon her head, "dealt by some unknown hand" (15) whose identity
is later revealed not verbally but through a manual action- the tracing
of Orlick's hammer upon a slate. Pip himself is to feel the
terror of Orlick's "murderous hand" (53) in his secret rendezvous
at the sluicehouse on the marshes. Dickens lays great emphasis on
the hands in this scene. Orlick shakes his hand at Pip, bangs the table
with his fist, draws his unclenched hand "across his mouth as if
his mouth watered" for his victim, lets his hands hang "loose and
heavy at his sides", and Pip observes him so intensely that he knows
"of the slightest action of his fingers". (53) Orlick might almost
be Magwitch's bogy man come alive, a figure of nemesis from Pip's
phantasy of guilt. The scarred, disfigured wrists of Mr&
Jaggers' housekeeper are the tell-tale marks of her sinister
past, for her master, coolly exhibiting them to his dinner guests, makes
a point of the "force of grip there is in these hands". (26) Jaggers'
iron control over her ("**h she would remove her hands from
any dish she put before him, hesitatingly, as if she dreaded his calling
her back **h".) (26) rests on his having once got her acquitted
of a murder charge by cleverly contriving her sleeves at the trial to
conceal her strength and by passing off the lacerations on the backs
of her hands as the scratches of brambles rather than of human fingernails.
It is the similarity between Estella's hands and Molly's
("The action of her fingers was like the action of knitting") (48)
that provides Pip with a vital clue to the real identity of both and
establishes a symbolic connection between the underworld of crime and
the genteel cruelty of Satis House. Finally, Magwitch's pursuit
of Compeyson, his archenemy and betrayer, begins by his holding him
in a vicelike grip on the river flats to frustrate his escape and culminates
in his "laying his hand on his cloak to identify him", (54)
thus precipitating the death-locked struggle in the water during which
Compeyson drowns. Magwitch's hand here ironically becomes the agent
of justice. But only in one of its aspects is <Great Expectations>
a tale of violence, revenge, and retribution. Money, so
important a theme elsewhere in Dickens, is here central, and hands are
often associated in some way with the false values- acquisitiveness,
snobbery, self-interest, hypocrisy, toadyism, irresponsibility, injustice-
that attach to a society based upon the pursuit of wealth.
Dickens suggests
the economic evils of such a society on the first page
of his novel in the description of Pip's five little dead brothers
"who gave up trying to get a living exceedingly early in that universal
struggle", who seemed to have "all been born on their backs
with their hands in their trousers-pockets, and had never taken them
out
in this state of existence". (1) Pip's great expectations, his
progress through illusion and disillusionment, turn, somewhat as they
do for the naive hero of Dreiser's <American Tragedy>, upon
the
lure of genteel prosperity through unearned income- what Wemmick calls
"portable property" and what Jaggers reproaches Pip for letting
"slip through [his] fingers". (55) Since a gentleman
must, if possible, avoid sullying them by work, his hands, as importantly
as his accent, become the index of social status. Almost the first
step in the corruption of Pip's values is the unworthy shame he
feels when Estella cruelly remarks the coarseness of his hands: "They
had never troubled me before, but they troubled me now, as vulgar
appendages". (8) Pip imagines how Estella would look down upon
Joe's hands, roughened by work in the smithy, and the deliberate contrast
between her white hands and his blackened ones is made to symbolize
the opposition of values between which Pip struggles- idleness
and work, artificiality and naturalness, gentility and commonness, coldness
and affection- in fact, between Satis House and the forge.
When the snobbery that alienates Pip from Joe finally gives way before
the deeper and stronger force of love, the reunion is marked by an
embarrassed handshake at which Pip exclaims "No, don't wipe it
off- for God's sake, give me your blackened hand"! (35)

Pip's abject leave-taking of Miss Havisham, during which he kneels

to kiss her hand, signalizes his homage to a supposed patroness who
seems to be opening up for him a new world of glamour; when, on the
journey to London that immediately follows, he pauses nostalgically
to lay his hand upon the finger-post at the end of the village, the wooden
pointer symbolically designates a spiritual frontier between innocence
and the corruption of worldly vanity. Incidentally, one cannot
miss the significance of this gesture, for Dickens reintroduces it associatively
in Pip's mind at another moral and psychological crisis-
his painful recognition, in a talk with Herbert Pocket, that his
hopeless attachment to Estella is as self-destructive as it is romantic.
In both cases the finger-post represents Pip's heightened awareness
of contrary magnetisms. A variety of hand movements helps
dramatize the moral climate of the fallen world Pip encounters beyond
the forge. The vulturelike attendance of the Pocket family upon
Miss Havisham is summed up in the hypocritical gestures of Miss Camilla
Pocket, who puts her hand to her throat in a feigned spasm of
grief-stricken choking, then lays it "upon her heaving bosom" with
"an unnatural fortitude of manner", (11) and finally kisses it to
Miss Havisham in a parody of the lady's own mannerism toward Estella.
Pumblechook's hands throughout the novel serve to travesty greed
and hypocritical self-aggrandizement. We first see him shaking Mrs&
Joe's hand on discovering the sizable amount of the premium paid
to her husband for Pip's indenture as an apprentice and later pumping
Pip's hands "for the hundredth time at least" ("May I-
<may> I-"?) (19) in effusive congratulation to Pip on
his expectations. We take leave of Pumblechook as he gloats over Pip's
loss of fortune, extending his hand "with a magnificently forgiving
air" and exhibiting "the same fat five fingers", one of which
he identifies with "the finger of Providence" and shakes at Pip
in a canting imputation of the latter's <"ingratitoode"> and
his own generosity as Pip's <"earliest benefactor">. (58)

Pip first learns "the stupendous power of money" from the

sycophantic tailor, Mr& Trabb, whose brutality to his boy helper exactly
matches
the financial resource of each new customer, and whose fawning
hands touch "the outside of each elbow" (19) and "rub"
Pip out of the shop. The respectability which money confers implies
a different etiquette, and, upon taking up the life of a London gentleman,
Pip must learn from Herbert Pocket that "the spoon is not generally
used over-hand, but under".
The following items may be specified in actual or symbolic form in the
operands of those instructions which refer to the particular items:
channel, unit, combined channel and unit, combined arm and file, unit
record synchronizers, inquiry synchronizers, and alteration switches.
The declarative operation ~EQU is used to equate symbolic names
to item numbers (see page 85). _CONTINUATION CARDS_ Certain Autocoder
statements make provision for more parameters than may be contained
in the operand (columns 21-75) of a single line on the Autocoder
coding sheet. When this is the case, the appropriate section of this
manual will indicate that "Continuation Cards" may be used. Thus,
when specifically permitted, the operand of a given line on the Autocoder
coding sheet may be continued in the operand of from one to
four additional lines which immediately follow. The label and
operation columns must be blank and the continuation of the operand
must begin in column 21; i&e&, it must be left-justified in the
operand column of the coding sheet. The operand need not extend across
the entire operand column of either the header card or continuation
cards but may end with the comma following any parameter. Remarks may
appear to the right of the last parameter on each card provided they
are separated from the operand by at least two blank spaces. Illustration
of the use of continuation cards are included throughout the
examples illustrating the various statements. If a continuation
card follows a statement that does not permit continuation cards,
the compiler will generate a ~NOP and issue an error message. Additional
restrictions regarding the use of continuation cards with macro-instructions
appear on page 106.

#RESERVATION OF INDEX WORDS AND

ELECTRONIC SWITCHES#

The assignment of actual addresses to symbolic

index word and electronic switch names occurs in Phase /3, of the
Autocoder processor. The initial availability of index words and electronic
switches is determined by a table which is included in the Compiler
Systems Tape. This table originally indicates that index words
1 through 96 and electronic switches 1 through 30 are available for
assignment to symbolic references; index words 97 through 99 are
not available. The initial setting of this table may be altered, however,
as described in the 7070/7074 Data Processing System Bulletin
"~IBM 7070/7074 Compiler System: Operating Procedure",
form ~J28-6105. During the first pass of Phase /3,, references
to the <actual> addresses of index words and electronic switches
are collected and the availability table is updated. At the end
of this pass, the table indicates which index words and electronic switches
are not available for assignment to symbolic references.
Both index words and electronic switches may have been made unavailable
before the start of assignment in one of the following ways: _1._
The initial setting of the availability table indicated that the
index word or electronic switch was not available for assignment. _2._
The one- two-digit number of the index word or electronic switch
was used in the operand of a symbolic machine instruction to specify
indexing or as a parameter which is <always> an index word or electronic
switch, e&g&, @ _3._ The one- or two-digit number of
the index word or electronic switch was used in the operand of an ~EQU
statement, e&g&, @ When the index words or electronic
switches are reserved because of actual usage in the statements
described above, the position or order of the statements within the program
is not important; any such reference will make the index word
or electronic switch unavailable at the end of this pass. During
the assignment pass of Phase /3,, index words and electronic switches
are reserved as they are encountered during assignment. Index
words and electronic switches may be reserved in the following ways.
The first two methods apply to both index words and electronic switches;
the third applies only to index words. _1._ During the assignment
pass, each instruction is examined for reference to the symbolic
name of an index word or electronic switch. When such a reference
is found, an actual address is assigned and the availability table is
changed so that the assigned index word or switch is no longer available
for later assignment. _2._ If the one- or two-digit address of
an index word or electronic switch is used or is included in the operand
of an ~XRESERVE or ~SRESERVE statement (see page
99), the corresponding index word or electronic switch is reserved.
_3._ If a statement has been assigned an address in the index word
area _A._ by means of an actual label or _B._ by means of an
ORIGIN statement which refers to an <actual address> the
corresponding index word will be reserved. These entries should normally
appear at the beginning of the program or immediately following each
~LITORIGIN statement. Otherwise, symbolic names may have
previously been assigned to these same index words. (This method does
not apply to electronic switches.) The preceding methods allow
efficient use of index words and electronic switches during a sectionalized
or multi-phase program, particularly when used in conjunction
with the ~LITORIGIN statement. Extreme caution should
be used, however, to avoid the conflicting usage of an index word or electronic
switch which may result from the assignment of more than one
name or function to the same address. If the symbolic name or
actual address of an index word or electronic switch appears or is included
in the operand of an ~XRELEASE or ~SRELEASE
statement (see page 101), the specified index word or electronic switch
will again be made available, regardless of the method by which it
was reserved. It will not, however, be used for symbolic assignment until
all other index words or electronic switches have been assigned for
the first time. If, at any time during the assignment pass,
the compiler finds that there are no more index words available for assignment,
the warning message "NO MORE INDEX WORDS AVAILABLE"
will be placed in the object program listing, the table will be altered
to show that index words 1 through 96 are available, and the assignment
will continue as before. If the compiler finds that there are
no more electronic switches available for assignment, the warning message
"NO MORE ELECTRONIC SWITCHES AVAILABLE" will be placed in
the object program listing, the table will be altered to show that electronic
switches 1 through 30 are available, and assignment will continue
as before. The resultant conflicting usage of index words or electronic
switches may be avoided by reducing the number of symbolic names
used, e&g&, through the proper use of the ~EQU, ~XRELEASE,
or ~SRELEASE statements. As noted in Appendix
~C, index words 97 through 99 are <never> available for assignment
to symbolic names by the compiler; also, index words 93 through
96 may have been made unavailable for assignment.

#DECLARATIVE
STATEMENTS#

Autocoder declarative statements provide the processor

with the necessary information to complete the imperative operations
properly. Declarative statements are never executed in the object program
and should be separated from the program instruction area, placed
preferably at its beginning or end. Otherwise, special care must be
taken to branch around them so that the program will not attempt to execute
something in a data area as an instruction. If the compiler does
encounter such statements, a warning message will be issued. 7070/7074
Autocoder includes the following declarative statements: ~DA
(Define Area), ~DC (Define Constant), ~DRDW (Define Record
Definition Word), ~DSW (Define Switch), ~DLINE
(Define Line), ~EQU (Equate), CODE, ~DTF (Define
Tape File), ~DIOCS (Define Input/Output Control System),
and ~DUF (Descriptive Entry for Unit Records). ~DA, ~DC,
~DTF, and ~DLINE require more than one entry.

The ~DA statement is used to name and define the positions and
length of fields within an area. The ~DC statement is used to name
and enter constants into the object program. Since the 7070 and 7074
make use of record definition words (~RDWS) to read, write, move,
and otherwise examine blocks of storage, the ~DA and ~DC statements
provide the option of generating ~RDWS automatically.
When so instructed, Autocoder will generate one or more ~RDWS
and assign them successive locations immediately preceding the area(s)
with which they are to be associated. An ~RDW will be of the
form **f, where ~xxxx is the starting location of the area and ~yyyy
is its ending location. These addresses are calculated automatically
by the processor. In some cases, it may be more advantageous
to assign locations to ~RDWS associated with ~DA and ~DC
areas in some other part of storage, i&e&, not immediately preceding
the ~DA or ~DC areas. The ~DRDW statement may be
used for this purpose. The ~DRDW statement may also be used to
generate an ~RDW defining <any> area specified by the programmer.

As many as ten digital switches may be named and provided

by the ~DSW statement for consideration by the ~SETSW and
LOGIC macro-instructions. Each switch occupies one digit position
in a word, can be set ON or OFF, and is considered
as logically equivalent to an electronic switch. It cannot, however,
be referred to by electronic switch commands, e&g&, ~ESN, ~BSN,
etc&. An individual switch or the entire set of switches in
a word may be tested or altered as desired. Through use of
the ~DLINE statement, a means is provided for specifying both
the editing of fields to be inserted in a print line area and the layout
of the area itself. The area may include constant information supplied
by the programmer. The area may also be provided with additional
data during the running of the object program by means of ~EDMOV
or MOVE macro-instructions. The declarative statement
~EQU permits the programmer to equate symbolic names to actual
index words, electronic switches, arm and file numbers, tape channel
and unit numbers, alteration switches, etc&, and to equate a symbol
to another symbol or to an actual address. The ~DIOCS,
~DTF, and ~DUF statements are used when required by the Input/Output
Control System. ~DIOCS is used to select the major
methods of processing to be used, and to name the index words used
by ~IOCS. Each tape file must be described by Tape File Specifications,
produced by ~DTFS. In addition to information related
to the file and its records, the File Specifications contain subroutine
locations and the location of tape label information. A ~DUF
entry must be supplied for every unit record file describing the type
of file and the unit record equipment to be used. The ~DUF also
supplies the locations of subroutines written by the user that are
unique to the file. A full description of the ~DIOCS,
~DTF, and ~DUF statements is contained in the 7070 Data Processing
system Bulletin "~IBM 7070 Input/Output Control System",
form ~J28-6033-1. Brief descriptions of these three declarative
statements and detailed descriptions of the formats and functions
of each of the other 7070/7074 Autocoder declarative statements follow
below. _~DIOCS- DEFINE INPUT/OUTPUT CONTROL SYSTEM_ When
the Input/Output Control System is to be used in a program, a
~DIOCS statement must be used to select the major methods of processing
to be used. This statement also allows the naming of the index
words used by ~IOCS. _SOURCE PROGRAM FORMAT_ The basic
format of the ~DIOCS statement is as follows: @ ANYLABEL
is any symbolic label; it may be omitted. The entry ~DIOCS
must be written exactly as shown. The first item in the
operand, ~IOCSIXF, is used to specify the first ~IOCS index
word for programs using tape files. This item may be a symbolic
name or an actual one-digit or two-digit index word address in the range
3-94. If the first item in the operand is omitted, the symbolic name
~IOCSIXF will be assigned. When an actual index word or a
symbolic address is specified, Autocoder will equate the name ~IOCSIXF
to it. The second item in the operand, ~IOCSIXG,
is used to specify the second ~IOCS index word for programs
using tape files. This item may be a symbolic name or an actual one-digit
or two-digit index word address in the range 3-94. If the second
item in the operand is omitted, the symbolic name ~IOCSIXG
will be assigned. When an actual index word or a symbolic address
is specified, Autocoder will equate ~IOCSIXG to it.

In the midwest, oxidation ponds are used extensively for the treatment
of domestic sewage from suburban areas. The high cost of land
and a few operational problems resulting from excessive loadings have
created the need for a wastewater treatment system with the operational
characteristics of the oxidation pond but with the ability to treat
more organic matter per unit volume. Research at Fayette, Missouri
on oxidation ponds has shown that the ~BOD in the treated
effluent varied from 30 to 53 ~mg/~l with loadings from 8 to
120 ~lb ~BOD/day/acre. Since experience indicates that effluents
from oxidation ponds do not create major problems at these ~BOD
concentrations, the goal for the effluent quality of the accelerated
treatment system was the same as from conventional oxidation ponds.
Recent studies by Weston and Stack had indicated that a turbine
aerator could be added to an oxidation pond to increase the rate of oxygen
transfer. Their study showed that it was possible to transfer 3
to 4 ~lb of oxygen/~hr/~hp. O'Connor and Eckenfelder
discussed the use of aerated lagoons for treating organic wastes.
They indicated that a 4-day retention, aerated lagoon would give 60
to 76 per cent ~BOD reduction. Later, Eckenfelder increased
the efficiency of treatment to between 75 and 85 per cent in the summer
months. It appeared from the limited information available that the
aerated lagoon might offer a satisfactory means of increasing the capacity
of existing oxidation ponds as well as providing the same degree
of treatment in a smaller volume.

#RED BRIDGE SUBDIVISION#

With
the development of the Red Bridge Subdivision south of Kansas City,
Missouri, the developer was faced with the problem of providing adequate
sewage disposal. The sewage system from Kansas City was not
expected to serve the Red Bridge area for several years. This necessitated
the construction of temporary sewage treatment facilities with
an expected life from 5 to 15 ~yr. For the initial development an
oxidation pond was constructed as shown in Figure 1. The oxidation pond
has a surface area of 4.77 acres and a depth of 4 ~ft. The pond
is currently serving 1,230 persons or 260 persons per acre. In the summer
of 1960 the oxidation pond became completely septic and emitted
obnoxious odors. It was possible to maintain aerobic conditions in the
pond by regular additions of sodium nitrate until the temperature decreased
and the algae population changed from blue-green to green algae.

The anaerobic conditions in the existing oxidation pond

necessitated examination of other methods for supplying additional oxygen
than by sodium nitrate. At the same time further expansion in the
Red Bridge Subdivision required the construction of additional sewage
treatment facilities. The large land areas required for oxidation
ponds made this type of treatment financially unattractive to the developer.
It was proposed that aerated lagoons be used to eliminate the
problem at the existing oxidation ponds and to provide the necessary
treatment for the additional development.

#PILOT LAGOON#

The lack
of adequate data on the aerated lagoon system prompted the developer
to construct an aerated lagoon pilot plant to determine its feasibility
for treating domestic sewage. The pilot plant was a circular lagoon
81 ~ft in ~diam at the surface and 65 ~ft in ~diam at the bottom,
4 ~ft below the surface, with a volume of 121,000 ~gal. The
side slopes were coated with fiberglas matting coated with asphalt to
prevent erosion. The pilot lagoon was located as shown in Figure 1
to serve the area just south of the existing housing area. The major
contributor was a shopping center with houses being added to the system
as the subdivision developed. The pilot lagoon was designed to handle
the wastes from 314 persons with a 4-day aeration period. Initially,
the wastewater would be entirely from the shopping center with the
domestic sewage from the houses increasing over an 18-month period. This
operation would permit evaluation of the pilot plant, with a slowly
increasing load, over a reasonable period of time. The pilot
plant was equipped with a 3-~hp turbine aerator (Figure 2). The
aerator had a variable-speed drive to permit operation through a range
of speeds. The sewage flow into the treatment plant was metered and
continuously recorded on 24-~hr charts. The raw sewage was introduced
directly under the turbine aerator to insure maximum mixing of the
raw sewage with the aeration tank contents. The effluent was collected
through two pipes and discharged to the Blue River through a surface
drainage ditch.

#ANALYSES#

Composite samples were collected at

weekly intervals. The long retention period and the complete mixing
concept prevented rapid changes in either the mixed liquor or in the effluent.
Weekly samples would make any changes more readily discernible
than daily samples. The composite samples were normally collected
over a 6-~hr period, but an occasional 24-~hr composite was made.
Examination of the operations of the shopping center permitted correlation
of the 6-~hr composite samples with 24-~hr operations. The
data indicated that the organic load during the 6-~hr composites was
essentially 50 per cent of the 24-~hr organic load. Grab samples
were collected from the existing oxidation pond to determine its
operating conditions. Efforts were made to take the grab samples at
random periods so that the mass of data could be treated as a 6-~hr
composite sample. A single 24-~hr composite sample indicated that the
sewage flow pattern and characteristics were typical.

#PILOT PLANT
OPERATIONS#

The ~BOD of the influent to the pilot plant varied

between 110 and 710 ~mg/~l with an average of 350 ~mg/~l.
This was equivalent to 240 ~mg/~l~BOD on a 24-~hr basis. The
~BOD of the raw sewage was typical of domestic sewage from a
subdivision.
The ~BOD in the effluent averaged 58 ~mg/~l, a 76-per
cent reduction over the 24-~hr period. Examination of the data
in Table /1, shows that a few samples contributed to raising the effluent
~BOD. The periods of high effluent ~BOD occurred during
cold periods when operational problems with the aerator resulted.
Ice caused the aerator to overload, straining the drive belts. The
slippage of the drive belts caused the aerator to slow down and reduce
oxygen transfer as well as the mixing of the raw sewage. The
organic loading on the unit averaged 32 ~lb of ~BOD/day or about
2 ~lb ~BOD/day/1,000 ~cu ~ft aeration capacity. Needless
to say, the organic load was very low on a volumetric basis, but was
270 ~lb ~BOD/day/acre on a surface loading basis. It seems that
the aerated lagoon was a very heavily loaded oxidation pond or a lightly
loaded activated sludge system. The flow rate remained relatively
constant during the winter months as shown in Table /1,. With
the spring rains the flow rose rapidly due to infiltration in open
sewers. As construction progresses, the volume of storm drainage will
be sharply reduced. The retention period in the aerated lagoon ranged
from 9.8 to 2.6 days, averaging 6.4 days. The large amount
of vegetable grindings from the grocery store in the shopping center
created a suspended solids problem. The vegetables were not readily metabolized
by the bacteria in the aeration unit and tended to float on
the surface. A skimming device at the effluent weir prevented loss of
most of these light solids. The average volatile suspended solids in
the effluent was 75 ~mg/~l while ~MLSS averaged 170 ~mg/~l
volatile suspended solids. The average sludge age based on displacement
of solids was calculated to be 14.5 days. The oxygen uptake rate
in the mixed liquor averaged 0.8 ~mg/~l/~hr during the first
four months of this study. Variations in aerator speeds during the latter
two months of this study caused increased mixing and increased oxygen
demand. The increase in oxygen uptake rates from 1.2 to 2.6 ~mg/~l/~hr
which followed an increase in rotor speed was believed to
be related to resuspension of solids which had settled at the lower
rotor speeds. It appeared that most of the mixed liquor suspended solids
were active microbial solids with the heavier, less active solids
settling out. The suspended solids discharged in the effluent
were found to be the major source of the ~BOD. Removal of the suspended
solids by a membrane filter yielded an average effluent containing
only 20 ~mg/~l ~BOD. The ~BOD in the drainage ditch
receiving the pilot plant effluent averaged 12 ~mg/~l. This low ~BOD
was due to removal of the excess suspended solids by sedimentation
since the only dilution was surface runoff which was very low during
this study.

#MICROSCOPIC EXAMINATION#
Routine microscopic examinations
were made of the mixed liquor as indicated by McKinney and
Gram for the various types of protozoa. It was found that the
aerated lagoon was an activated sludge system rather than an oxidation
pond. At no time were algae found in the mixed liquor. The bacteria
formed typical activated sludge floc. The floc particles were all small
as the heavier floc settled out. Initially, the flagellated
protozoa predominated, but they soon gave way to the free swimming ciliated
protozoa. As the temperature decreased, the number of free swimming
ciliated protozoa decreased. Very little protozoa activity existed
below 40`~F. When the temperature reached 32`~F all protozoan
activity ceased; but as the temperature rose, the numbers of
protozoa increased rapidly. Only once were stalked ciliates found in
the mixed liquor. The predomination of free swimming ciliated protozoa
is indicative of a high bacterial population.

#OXYGEN TRANSFER#

One of the important aspects of this study was to determine the oxygen
transfer relationships of the mechanical aerator. Routine determinations
were made for dissolved oxygen in the mixed liquor and for oxygen
uptake rates. The data given in Table /2, show the routine operation
of the aerator. The dissolved oxygen in the aeration unit was consistently
high until January 29, 1961. An extended cold spell caused
ice to build up on the aerator which was mounted on a floating platform
and caused the entire platform to sink lower in the water. The added
resistance to the rotor damaged the drive belts and reduced the oxygen
transfer capacity. It was approximately one month before the belt
problem was noticed and corrected, but at no time was there a deficiency
of dissolved oxygen. A series of eight special tests were
conducted at different rotor speeds to determine the oxygen transfer
rate. Five of the tests were conducted with a polyethylene cover to
simulate an ice cover. The rate of oxygen transfer at 1.0-~mg/~l
dissolved oxygen concentration and 10`~C for various rotor speeds
is given in Table /3,. The maximum rate of oxygen transfer at 1.0
~mg/~l dissolved oxygen was calculated as 220 ~lb/day at a maximum
rate of 9.3 ~mg/~l/~hr. The actual power requirements indicated
2~lb oxygen transfer/~hr/~hp. The polyethylene cover reduced
the oxygen transfer rate by 10 per cent, indicating that the maximum
oxygen transfer is at the rotor rather than through the surface.

#OXIDATION
POND#

During this study septic conditions developed in the

oxidation pond in the spring when the ice melted. Shortly after this
study ended septic conditions resulted which required the addition of
sodium nitrate. The location of the oxidation pond in a high-value
residential area makes odor nuisances a sensitive problem for the developer.
The organic concentration in the influent raw sewage ranged from
160 to 270 ~mg/~l of ~BOD with an average of 230 ~mg/~l.
The ~BOD data are given in Table /4,. A single 24-~hr composite
sample had a ~BOD of 260 ~mg/~l, indicating a typical
domestic sewage. The daily sewage volume to the oxidation pond averaged
147,000 ~gpd, giving a retention period of 42 days. The organic
loading on the pond was slightly under 60~lb~BOD/day/acre.

The effluent ~BOD averaged 34 ~mg/~l, a little lower

than that of the study at Fayette indicated for a loading of 60~lb
~BOD/day/acre. The ~BOD of the effluent ranged from a
minimum of 13 to a maximum of 47~mg/~l. Microscopic examination of
the effluent showed that minimum ~BOD occurred when the algae began
to decrease with cold weather. When the algae began to build up
again, the effluent ~BOD rose. During the two weeks when the algae
disappeared from the effluent ~BOD's in the effluent were 18
and 16 ~mg/~l.

Thus, the three main categories of antisubmarine warfare operations

are defense of shipping, defense of naval forces, and area defense.
The last category overlaps the others in amphibious operations and
near terminals and bases. To effect these operations, five elements
exist (1) surface, (2) air, (3) mines, (4) submarine, and (5)
fixed installations. Surface forces have been used to provide defense
zones around naval and merchant ship formations, air to furnish area
surveillance, and mines for protection of limited areas. Submarines and
shore installations are new elements. The submarine now has a definite
place in submarine defense particularly in denying enemy access to
ocean areas. Fixed installations offer possibilities for area detection.
Mine warfare is being reoriented against submarine targets.

A sixth element, not always considered, is intelligence. It includes

operational intelligence of the enemy and knowledge of the environment.
Operational intelligence presumably will be available from our
national intelligence agencies; intelligence on the environment will
come from the recently augmented program in oceanography. The major
postwar development is the certainty that these elements should not be
considered singly but in combination and as being mutually supporting.

#NECESSITY FOR AN OVER-ALL CONCEPT#

Thinking on submarine defense

has not always been clear-cut. Proponents of single elements tend
to ensure predominance of that element without determining if it is justified,
and the element with the most enthusiastic and vociferous proponents
has assumed the greatest importance. Consequently, air, surface,
and submarine elements overshadow the mine, fixed installations,
and intelligence. These have sought more and more of what they have.
Each seems to strive for elimination of the necessity for the others.
This, despite postwar experience demonstrating that all elements are
necessarily mutually supporting. Thus, the most productive areas are
not necessarily the most stressed. This is stated to emphasize the necessity
for an over-all concept of submarine defense, one which would
provide positions of relative importance to ~ASW elements based on
projected potentialities. Then the enthusiasm and energy of all elements
can be channeled to produce cumulative progress toward a common
objective. An over-all concept would have other advantages. It would
allow presentation to the public of a unified approach. Now the problem
is presented piecemeal and sometimes contradictorily. While one
element
is announcing progress, another is delineating its problems. The
result can only be confusion in the public mind. A unified concept
can serve as a guide to budgeting and, if public support is gained, will
command Congressional support. Industry's main criticism of the
Navy's antisubmarine effort is that it cannot determine where any
one company or industry can apply its skills and know-how. Lacking guidance,
industry picks its own areas. The result, coupled with the salesmanship
for which American industry is famous, is considerable expenditure
of funds and efforts in marginal areas. An over-all concept
will guide industry where available talents and facilities will yield
greatest dividends. Therefore, a broad concept of over-all submarine
defense is needed for co-ordination of the Navy's efforts, for a logical
presentation to the public, for industry's guidance, and as a
basis for a program to the Congress.

#PRINCIPLES INVOLVED IN AN OVER-ALL

CONCEPT#

That which follows will be a discussion of principles

and possible content for an over-all concept of antisubmarine warfare.
Russia possesses the preponderance of submarines in the world, divided
between her various fleets. Some are also in Albania and others
are on loan to Egypt. Other countries which may willingly or unwillingly
become Communist can furnish bases. Communist target areas can
be assumed, but there is no certainty that such assumptions coincide
with Soviet intentions. Attack can come from almost any direction against
many locations. Logically, then, the first principle of the plan
must be that it is not rigidly oriented toward any geographical area.

It is often stated that the submarine can be destroyed while

building, at bases, in transit, and on station. Destruction of the enemy's
building and base complex, however, requires attacks on enemy
territory, which is possible only in event of all-out hostilities. In
transit or on station, it may not be possible to attack the submarines
until commission of an overt act. The Communists are adept at utilizing
hostilities short of general war and will do so whenever it is
to their advantage. Therefore the second principle of the plan must be
that, while providing for all-out hostilities, its effectiveness is
not dependent on general war. Antisubmarine warfare does not involve
clashes between large opposing forces, with the decision a result
of a single battle. It is a war of attrition, of single actions,
of an exchange of losses. This exchange must result in our ending up
with some effective units. Initially, having fewer units of some elements-
especially submarines- than the opponent, our capabilities need
to be sufficiently greater than theirs, so that the exchange will
be in our favor. Therefore, the third principle of the plan must be that
it does not depend for effectiveness on engagement by the same types,
unless at an assured favorable exchange rate. The submarine
has increased its effectiveness by several orders of magnitude since
World War /2,. Its speed has increased, it operates at increasingly
greater depths, its submerged endurance is becoming unlimited, and
it will become even more silent. The next developments will probably
be in weaponry. The missile can gradually be expected to replace the
torpedo. As detection ranges increase, weapons will be developed to
attack other submarines and surface craft at these ranges. Therefore,
the fourth principle of the plan must be that it provide for continuously
increasing capabilities in the opponent. No element can accomplish
the total objective of submarine defense. Some elements support
the others,
but all have limitations. Some limitations of one element
can be compensated for by a capability of another. Elements used
in combination will increase the over-all capability more than the sum
of the capabilities of the individual elements. Therefore, the plan's
fifth principle must be that it capitalize on the capabilities of
all elements in combination. Conceivably the submarine defense
problem can be solved by sufficient forces. Numbers would be astronomical
and current fiscal policies make this an impractical solution.
Shipbuilding, aircraft procurement, and weapon programs indicate that
there will not be enough of anything. Therefore, any measures taken
in peacetime which will decrease force requirements in war will contribute
greatly to success when hostilities occur. Therefore, the sixth
principle of the plan must be that it concentrate on current measures
which will reduce future force requirements. The world is constantly
changing; what was new yesterday is obsolescent today. The
seventh principle of the plan is self-evident; it must be flexible enough
to allow for technological breakthroughs, scientific progress, and
changes in world conditions.

#SUPPORTING ELEMENTS IN ~ASW OPERATIONS#

To this point the need for an over-all plan for submarine defense
has been demonstrated, the mission has been stated, broad principles
delineating its content laid down, and the supporting elements listed.
Before considering these elements in more detail, an additional
requirement should be stated. Large area coverage will accomplish all
other tasks. Therefore, because reduction in tasks results in reduction
of forces required, the plan should provide for expanding area coverage.
But it must be remembered that the plan should not be oriented
geographically. Consequently, the system giving area coverage (if such
coverage is less than world wide) must be flexible and hence at least
partially mobile. Since effective area coverage appears fairly remote,
the requirement can be borne in mind while considering the elements:
air, surface, sub-surface, fixed installations, mines, and intelligence.
These are arranged approximately in the order of the vociferousness
of their proponents but will be discussed in the reverse order
in the hope that the true order of importance will result. ##

<Intelligence>,
as used herein, will include information on possible
opponents and on the environment which can affect operations. These can
be referred to as operational intelligence and environmental intelligence.
In submarine defense these must have maximum stress. Good operational
intelligence can ensure sound planning, greatly reduce force
requirements,
and increase tactical effectiveness. Environmental intelligence
is just as important. The ocean presently co-operates with the
target. Full knowledge of the science of oceanography can bring the
environment to our side, resulting in an increase in effectiveness of
equipment and tactics, a decrease in enemy capabilities, and the development
of methods of capitalizing on the environment. Therefore, improved
intelligence will result in reduced force requirements and, as
it supports all other elements, rates a top priority. Gathering intelligence
is important, but of equal importance is its translation into
usable form. A program is needed to translate the results of oceanographic
research into tactical and operating instructions. Approaching
this problem on a statistical basis is invalid, because the opponent
has the same sources available and will be encountered not under
average conditions, but under the conditions most advantageous to him.
Therefore, the on-the-scene commander must have detailed operating
instructions based on measurement of conditions, in the area, at the time
of encounter. All capabilities must be used to maximum advantage
then. Temperature, wind, oxygen content, depth, bottom character, and
animal life are the chief environmental variables. There may be others.
Variations in sound velocity should be measured rather than temperature,
because more of the variables would be encompassed. These variations
must eventually be measured horizontally as well as vertically.
Progress in predicting water conditions is encouraging, but little
guidance is available to the man at sea on the use of such information.
A concurrent effort is needed to make oceanographic data useful on
the spot. ##

<Mine warfare> has in the past been directed against

surface targets. By its nature it has always been of great psychological
advantage and small efforts have required considerably greater
counter-efforts. Mines are being increasingly oriented against submarine
targets. They are still considered to be for use in restricted waters,
however, and targets must come within a few yards of them. Mines
need to be recognized as a major element in anti-submarine warfare employment,
extended to deep water, and have their effective area per unit
increased. Mines can be used to deny access to great areas; they
are difficult to counter, cost little to maintain until required, and
can be put into place quickly. A most attractive feature is that detection
and attack are combined in a single package. Effective employment
will reduce force requirements. For example, effective mine
barriers from Florida to Cuba and across the Yucatan Channel from
Cuba to Mexico would remove all requirements for harbor defense,
inshore patrol, convoy escort, shipping control, and mine defense for
the entire Gulf of Mexico. More extended systems, covering all passage
into the Caribbean, would free the Caribbean and the Gulf of Mexico
from the previously listed requirements. Systems covering the Gulf
of St& Lawrence and possibly the entire coasts of the United
States are not impossible. Such mine defense systems could permit concentration
of mobile forces in the open oceans with consequent increase
in the probability of success. The advantages inherent in mine warfare
justify as great an importance for this element as is accorded any
of the other elements. ##

<Fixed installations> are increasingly

advocated as the problem of area defense emerges. The proponents
are scientific and technical men who exercise considerable influence
on their military counterparts. Systems which detect submarines over
wide areas are attractive, although they can be only "burglar alarms".
Mobile forces are required to localize and attack detected targets,
since the systems are not capable of pinpointing a target. Such systems
are expensive and are oriented geographically. In an over-all
~ASW concept, dependence on and effort expended for such systems
should be limited to those with proven capabilities. No general installation
should be made until a model installation has been proved and
its maximum capability determined. In addition, proposals for fixed installations
should be carefully weighed against a counterpart mobile
system. For fixed installations will always lack the flexibility that
should be inherent in naval systems. ##

<The submarine> has become

increasingly attractive as an antisubmarine weapon system. It operates
in its target's environment, and any advantage gained therefrom
by the target is shared by the attacker. But the submarine is a weapon
of ambush and therefore always in danger of being ambushed.
Two metabolites (/1, and /2,) of ~p-aminobenzoic acid (~PABA)
which act as cofactors for the hydroxylation of aniline by acid-fast
bacteria are biosynthesized from ~PABA. The 7 carbons of ~PABA
are incorporated directly into metabolite /2, (as shown with
both ring-labeled and carboxy-labeled **f). Thirty-five of the 36
carbon atoms arise from ~PABA. All 28 carbons of metabolite /1,
(a product of mild acid hydrolysis of /2,) arise from ~PABA.
Metabolite /1, isolated from the medium, however, showed a lower specific
activity, which indicates endogenous synthesis of this metabolite.

Vigorous acid hydrolysis of metabolite /1, destroyed the

biological activity of the compound and liberated two aryl amines.
Fragment ~A has been obtained in crystalline form as a dioxalate salt
and free base. Preliminary evidence tentatively indicates that the
molecule (metabolite /1,) is cleaved at a secondary amide bond. (N&
H& Sloane; chemical studies are being pursued with the cooperation
of K&G& Untch.) _STUDIES ON ESTERASES_- Research
on esterases in mammalian sera was continued. One of the most interesting
findings was the extreme sensitivity of plasma arylesterases to
rare earth ions. The inhibition of the enzyme by very low concentrations
of lanthanum ion is probably the strongest known biological effect
of rare earth salts. Various metal ions have been found to protect plasma
arylesterase against inactivation by urea and guanidine. The effects
can be related to the structure of this -~SH enzyme. The non-identity
of serum and red blood cell arylesterase was also established.
Furthermore, the hydrolysis of paraoxon was studied in mammalian
sera, and it was found that it is hydrolyzed by albumin (or a factor attached
to it) in addition to arylesterase. Selective inhibitors can
distinguish the two activities. Investigations on the acceleration of
human plasma cholinesterase were carried further. (E& G& Erdo^s,
L& E& Boggs, C& D& Mackey) _BIOPHYSICAL STUDIES ON
MODIFIED FIBROUS PROTEINS_- Electron-microscopical and physical-chemical
methods were used to demonstrate the renaturation of heat-denatured
collagen and ribonucleic acid. (R& V& Rice) A method
was devised for extracting and purifying soluble earthworm collagen
(~EWC). It was observed that ~EWC macromolecules are the
same diameter (15~A) but much longer (up to several microns) than
vertebrate tropocollagen. This unusual collagen also was shown to undergo
a reversible thermal phase transformation. (R& V& Rice, M&
D& Maser) _STUDIES ON PEPTIDES AND PEPTIDASES_- This investigation
involved several aspects. Substance ~Z, an active urinary
peptide, was purified by extraction in organic solvents and repeated
column chromatography; high-voltage electrophoresis and paper chromatography
were used in preliminary structural studies; pharmacological
effects <in vitro> on isolated surviving organs and <in vivo>
on blood pressure were assayed; special equipment required for registering
respiration and for recording the contraction of smooth muscles
under various conditions was developed by the Instruments Section
(Victor Jackman, W& C& Barnes, J& F& Reiss); and enzymes
which terminate the action of peptides such as bradykinin and perhaps
Substance ~Z were studied. Experiments are in progress to develop
ultraviolet spectrophotometric techniques for assaying these enzymes
and for studying their sensitivity to metal ions. (E& G& Erdo^s,
C& D& Mackey, A& G& Renfrew, W& B& Severs,
E& M& Sloane) _SEED PROTEINS_- In a physiochemical study
of seed proteins, the globulins of the Brazil nut have been investigated.
In addition to the known principal globulin, excelsin, three
other ultracentrifugally distinct components have been observed. A
water-soluble protein of quite low molecular weight (ca& 10,000) has
also been found in this system and partly characterized. (E& F&
Casassa, H& J& Notarius)

#CONTINUUM MECHANICS AND VISCOELASTICITY#

_THEORY OF NON-NEWTONIAN FLUIDS_- On the basis of

a differentiability assumption in function space, it is possible to prove
that, for materials having the property that the stress is given by
a functional of the history of the deformation gradients, the classical
theory of infinitesimal viscoelasticity is valid when the deformation
has been infinitesimal for all times in the past. By strengthening
the differentiability assumption, it has been possible to derive second
and higher order theories of viscoelasticity. In the second-order
theory, one of the normal stress differences can be calculated from the
first-order stress relaxation function. (B& D& Coleman with
Walter Noll, Department of Mathematics, Carnegie Institute of Technology)
_VISCOELASTIC MEASUREMENTS_- An extensive series of
measurements was made on a high-density polyethylene in a torsion pendulum
instrument using forced sinusoidal oscillation, free vibration, and
creep measurements over the temperature range of **f to 80`C&.
As many as seven decades of the time scale were thus covered isothermally.
The simple time-temperature equivalence valid for many amorphous
systems did not hold here. It was possible, however, to decompose
the compliance into a sum of a frequency-independent component and two
viscoelastic mechanisms, each compatible with the Boltzmann superposition
principle and with a consistent set of time-temperature equivalence
factors. (Hershel Markovitz, D&J& Plazek, Haruo Nakayasu)

#GEOCHEMISTRY#

_TRACE ELEMENTS IN TEKTITES, METEORITES, AND RELATED

MATERIALS_- The results of microanalysis of tektites (natural
glasses of unknown origin) for gallium and germanium have shown that
these glasses are probably produced from terrestrial (or less likely
from lunar) matter by impact of a celestial body. The gallium/germanium
ratio is higher than that for ordinary igneous, metamorphic, or sedimentary
matter as a result of selective volatilization of the components
of the tektite. Gallium oxide is less volatile than silica (the
main constituent of tektites) and germanium oxide is more volatile. Australites
(tektites from Australia) give the appearance of a second
melting. In conformity with this conclusion a higher trace gallium
content was found in the portion (flange) that has undergone a second
melting. The silicate fractions of stony meteorites show gallium/germanium
ratios similar to those of tektites because they too have undergone
melting at some point in their histories. Libyan Desert silica-glass,
another natural glass, is composed of nearly pure silica
and has the same trace germanium content as sands in the area. The gallium
content, however, has been enhanced five-fold. This glass is probably
formed from Libyan Desert sands by comet or stony-meteorite
impact. Nickel-iron meteorites with sufficient kinetic energy
to produce large terrestrial-explosion craters may nevertheless melt only
small quantities of material. Most of the impact energy is spent
in crushing and fragmentation. When rapid quenching follows melting,
<impact glasses> may result. These always contain metallic inclusions.
Impact glasses not containing elemental nickel-iron may have been
produced by stony meteorites or comets. No meteorites have ever been
recovered from paleoexplosion craters, and recent craters containing
impact glass have all been produced by metallic meteorites with the exception
of Aouelloul crater, Adrar, Western Sahara Desert. This
crater contains impact glass with no metallic inclusions and no meteoritic
material has been recovered. (A& J& Cohen, John Anania)

#INORGANIC CHEMISTRY#

Preparation of a coordination compound is often

accomplished by the simple method of reacting a metal salt with a
ligand in a suitable solvent such as an alcohol. By applying this general
principle, a great number of complex compounds of osmium, ruthenium,
iridium, and rhenium, with triphenylphosphine, triphenylarsine,
and triphenylstibine
have been obtained in this laboratory during the past few
years. (Lauri Vaska, E& M& Sloane, J& W& DiLuzio)
In the absence of direct evidence to the contrary, decomposition of
solvent alcohol <and> coordination of its fragments to the metal were
not considered, following the above heretofore-accepted assumption in
preparative coordination chemistry. Recent work with radiocarbon and
deuterated alcohols as solvents, however, has given evidence that metal-hydrido
and -carbonyl complexes may be readily formed by reaction
with alcohol in some of these systems. Some of the previously reported
compounds have thus been reformulated and a series of new hydrido and
carbonyl compounds discovered, the more representative examples being
**f, **f, **f, **f and **f (**f). The coordination complexes
formed by transition metals with primary and secondary phosphines and
arsines are being investigated (R& G& Hayter). Particular interest
is directed towards the condensation of these ligands with metal
halides to form substituted phosphide or arside complexes. During the
past year, these ligands have yielded some unusual five-coordinate complexes
of nickel (/2,) and some interesting binuclear phosphorus-bridged
complexes of palladium (/2,) (see figure), as well as new compounds
of the well-known type **f. The structures, properties, and reactions
of these compounds are being studied. In another study
chromium-substituted aluminum oxyhydroxides and related species, prepared
homogeneously by high-temperature hydrolysis, are being characterized
and investigated spectrally in the ultraviolet region with a view
to identification and semiquantitative estimation of the phases formed
under varying preparative conditions. (J& A& Laswick, N& L&
Heatwole)

#STRUCTURE AND PROPERTIES OF MACROMOLECULES#

_ELASTICITY
OF MACROMOLECULAR NETWORKS_- The theory of elasticity of
Gaussian networks has been developed on a more general basis and the
equations of state relating variables of pressure, volume, temperature,
stress and strain have been precisely formulated. Simple elongation
has been treated in detail. The various stress-temperature coefficients
for constancy of volume and strain, constancy of pressure and strain,
and constancy of pressure and length have been interrelated. The
dilation accompanying elongation and the simultaneously developed anisotropy
of compressibility have been related to the elongation. In continuation
of these theoretical studies, a more precise elucidation of
the effects of imperfections in network structure is sought. (P& J&
Flory, C& A& J& Hoeve) _CHAIN CONFORMATIONS OF POLYMERIC
CHAINS_- Recent theoretical work to calculate the dimensions
of polymeric chains by Volkenstein and Lifson has been extended to include
more general types of chains. The mean-square end-to-end distance
of the polyisobutylene chain has been calculated in reasonable agreement
with values deduced from viscosity data. These studies are being
extended to different polymers to increase our knowledge about the
hindrances to rotation around chain bonds. (C& A& J& Hoeve,
A& A& Blumberg) _CRYSTALLIZATION IN POLYMERS AND COPOLYMERS_-
The crystallization of copolymers comprising **f units interspersed
with a minor percentage of **f is limited by the inability of the
crystal lattice characteristic of the former to accommodate the bulky
side group of the latter. Only uninterrupted sequences of the former
are eligible for formation of crystallites. Limitations on the lengths
of these sequences diminish the stability of the comparatively short
crystallites which can be formed, and this is reflected in a broadening
of the melting range. (Robert Chiang, J& B& Jackson, P&
J& Flory) Carefully executed melting studies on this system (M&
J& Richardson) permit quantitative estimation of the instability
engendered by reduced crystallite length. The complex morphology of
polycrystalline homopolymers is necessarily dependent on the same factor.
Hence, the present studies offer a possible basis for interpretations
in the latter field. _CONTRACTION OF MUSCLE_- Glycerinated
muscle, in the presence of the physiological agent. (~ATP) responsible
for delivering energy to the mechanochemically active proteins
of muscle, has been shown to undergo a contraction which is highly sensitive
both to temperature and to solvent composition in mixtures of
alcohols and water. Experiments carried out over long periods of time
in order to allow establishment of a steady state have shown that the
onset of contraction and its completion are confined to an interval of
several degrees Centigrade and to a concentration range of only several
per cent. The contraction therefore partakes of the character of
a phase transition. While ~ATP appears to be necessary for the
occurrence of contraction, its presence and enzymatic hydrolysis of it
by the muscle protein myosin are not the only criteria for contraction.
(C& A& J& Hoeve, P& J& Flory) _ANIONIC POLYMERIZATION_-
One of the principal aims of anionic polymerization techniques
is the synthesis of polymers of extremely narrow molecular weight
distribution. A simple process for the preparation of nearly monodisperse
polystyrene of predictable molecular weight has been developed.
The preparation of such products is not new, but the systems heretofore
employed in polymerizations have commanded considerable experimental
skill and starting materials of a high purity. In the new process
impurities present in the solvent (benzene), the monomer, and in the
reaction system which would cause deactivation of propagation centers,
are rendered inactive prior to polymerization by gradual addition of
initiator, a mixture of butyl-lithium and telomeric styryl-lithium, at
a temperature low enough to suppress chain growth. Upon completion
of the purging step, additional initiator appropriate for the molecular
weight of the sample desired is added, and the system is then warmed
to the polymerization temperature, at which the reaction is allowed
to go to completion. The predictability of the molecular weights was
found to be within 10% for the polymers prepared, with **f ratios less
than 1.1. Contrary to observations with ethers, no apparent
change of the reactivity of the chain ends takes place over considerable
periods of time in benzene as solvent.
_ORGANIZATION:_ In this publication measurements of interfacial
angles of crystals are used to classify and identify chemical substances.
T& V& Barker, who developed the classification-angle system,
was about to begin the systematic compilation of the index when he
died in 1931. The compilation work was undertaken by a number of interested
crystallographers in the Department of Mineralogy of the University
Museum at Oxford. Since 1948 the working headquarters has
been the
Department of Geology and Mineralogy. Numerous cooperating individuals
in Great Britain, Holland, the United States, and Belgium
have contributed editorially or by making calculations. Great interest
and practical help have been given by the Barker Index Committee.
Financial and material help have come from academic, governmental, and
industrial organizations in England and Holland. Editors for Volumes
/1, and /2, were M& W& Porter and the late R& C&
Spiller, both of Oxford University. A third volume remains to be
published. _SUBSTANCES:_ Volume /1, deals with 2991 compounds
belonging to the tetragonal, hexagonal and trigonal, and orthorhombic
systems; and Volume /2,, with about 3500 monoclinic substances.
Volume /3,, in preparation, will treat the anorthic compounds described
in Groth's CHEMISCHE KRYSTALLOGRAPHIE. _PROPERTIES:_
The Barker system is based on the use of the smallest number of
interfacial angles necessary for indexing purposes. Other morphological,
physical, and optical property values are also given. _SOURCES
OF DATA:_ The index is essentially a new treatment of previously
compiled morphological data. Most of the data used are from Groth's
CHEMISCHE KRYSTALLOGRAPHIE. _CRITICALITY:_ Every calculation
has been made independently by two workers and checked by one of
the editors. _USE OF NOMENCLATURE, SYMBOLS, UNITS, PHYSICAL CONSTANTS:_
Accepted crystallographic symbolism has been used; other
symbols related to the index necessarily have been introduced. _CURRENCY:_
This publication covers the old literature (Groth); there
is no mechanism for keeping the volumes up to date. _FORMAT:_
The publication form is that of clothbound books. The data are presented
in lists and tables. Part 1 in both volumes is labeled "Introduction
and Tables". The tables include those for the classification
angles, refractive indices, and melting points of the various types
of crystals. Part 2 of Volume /1, and Parts 2 and 3 of Volume
/2, contain the crystal descriptions. These are grouped into sections
according to the crystal system, and within each section compounds
are arranged in the same order as in Groth's CHEMISCHE KRYSTALLOGRAPHIE.
An alphabetical list of chemical and mineralogical names
with reference numbers enables one to find a particular crystal description.
References to the data sources are given in the crystal descriptions.
_PUBLICATION AND DISTRIBUTION:_ The BARKER INDEX
is published for the Barker Index Committee by W& Heffer + Sons,
Ltd&, 3-4 Petty Cury, Cambridge, England. Volume /1, containing
Parts 1 and 2 was published in 1951; Volume /2,, in three
parts, in 1956. The two volumes are available from the publisher
for $16.80 and $28.00, respectively. #/2,-2. CRYSTAL DATA#

_ORGANIZATION:_
The present edition of CRYSTAL DATA was written
by J&D&H& Donnay, the Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore,
Md& (Part /2,) and Werner Nowacki, University of Berne,
Switzerland (Part /1,) with the collaboration of Gabrielle Donnay,
U& S& Geological Survey, Washington, D& C&. Many collaborators
in the United States and Switzerland helped in collecting
and assembling data, in making calculations, and in editing. Support
came from academic and industrial groups in these two countries. The
Geological Society of America gave a grant-in-aid to complete the
work and bore the expenses of publication. Preparation of a second
edition is in progress under the sponsorship of the Crystal Data Committee
of the American Crystallographic Association. Coeditors are
J&D&H& Donnay, G& E& Cox of Leeds University, and
Olga Kennard of the National Council for Medical Research, London.
Financial grants have been received from the National Science
Foundation and the (British) Institute of Physics for the compilation
work and the publication costs. The continuity of the project is
suggested by plans for an eventual third edition. _SUBSTANCES:_
Elements, alloys, inorganic and organic compounds. (Metal data will
not be included in the second edition, since these have been collected
independently by W& B& Pearson, National Research Council,
Ottawa, and published as A HANDBOOK OF LATTICE SPACINGS AND STRUCTURES
OF METALS AND ALLOYS by Pergamon Press.) _PROPERTIES:_
Crystallographic data resulting mainly from ~X-ray and electron
diffraction measurements are presented. Cell dimensions, number of formula
units per cell, space group, and specific gravity are given for
all substances. For some substances, auxiliary properties such as the
melting point are given. _SOURCES OF DATA:_ Part /1, of the
present edition covers the literature to mid-1948; Part /2,, up
to the end of 1951. Much of the material comes directly from secondary
sources such as STRUKTURBERICHT. _CRITICALITY:_ The vast
number of compounds to be covered, the limited resources to do the job,
and the immediate need for this type of compilation precluded a thorough
evaluation of all available data in the present edition. Future
editions may be more critical. _USE OF NOMENCLATURE, SYMBOLS, UNITS,
PHYSICAL CONSTANTS:_ Since Parts /1, and /2, were prepared
independently, the abbreviation schemes and the chemical symbols used
differ in the two parts. The second edition should have greater uniformity.
_CURRENCY:_ A second edition is in preparation, and there
are long range plans for a third. _FORMAT:_ Data in the present
edition are presented in tables and lists. Part /1, deals with
the classification of crystalline substances by space groups and is
not a numerical data compilation. The compounds are divided according
to composition into seven categories. Part /2, contains determinative
tables for the identification of crystalline substances. These are
arranged according to crystal system. There are formula and name indexes
covering both parts. References for Part /1, are given at the
end and for Part /2, in the tables. _PUBLICATION AND DISTRIBUTION:_
The present edition of CRYSTAL DATA (**f), published in
1954 as Memoir 60 of the Geological Society of America, is now out
of print. The manuscript of the second edition will probably be ready
by the end of 1960. #/2,-3. CRYSTAL STRUCTURES#

_ORGANIZATION:_
The author of CRYSTAL STRUCTURES is Ralph W&G&
Wyckoff, University of Arizona, Tucson, Arizona. The first section
of this publication appeared in 1948 and the last supplement in 1960.
Though now complete, the publication is included in this directory
because of its importance and because of the long-term nature of its
preparation. _SUBSTANCES:_ Elements, inorganic and organic compounds
(no alloys). _PROPERTIES:_ The data presented are derived
almost entirely from ~X-ray diffraction measurements and include
atomic coordinates, cell dimensions, and atomic and ionic radii. _SOURCES
OF DATA:_ Published literature. _CRITICALITY:_ The
aim was to state the results of <all> available determinations of atomic
positions in crystals. Presumably the tabulated data are best available
values. The critical comments in the textual sections of this
publication are invaluable. _USE OF NOMENCLATURE, SYMBOLS, UNITS,
PHYSICAL CONSTANTS:_ The terminology used conforms to that of INTERNATIONALE
TABELLEN ZUR BESTIMMUNG VON KRISTALLSTRUKTUREN. _CURRENCY:_
During the years of publication, supplement and replacement
sheets were issued periodically. Coverage of the literature extends
through 1954 and includes some 1955 references. It is to be hoped
that some way will be found to keep this important work current. _FORMAT:_
The publication form is that of loose-leaf sheets (**f)
contained in binders. The book is divided into chapters and in each chapter
the material is grouped into Text, Tables, Illustrations, and
Bibliography. Each group is paginated separately; numbers sometimes
followed by letters are used so that insertions can be made. Inorganic
structures are found in Chapters /2,-/12,, organic structures
in Chapters /13,-/15,. Within each chapter an effort has been
made to group together those crystals with similar structures. There
are three indexes, i&e&, an inorganic formula index, a mineralogical
name index, and a name index to organic compounds. _PUBLICATION
AND DISTRIBUTION:_ Publisher of CRYSTAL STRUCTURES is Interscience
Publishers, 250 Fifth Avenue, New York 1, N& Y&. The
work consists of four sections and 5 supplements. Price of the complete
work including all necessary binders is $148.50. #/2,-4. DANA'S
SYSTEM OF MINERALOGY#

_ORGANIZATION:_ Six editions of

James Dwight Dana's SYSTEM appeared between 1837 and 1892.
In 1915 Edward S& Dana, editor of the sixth edition, asked W&
E& Ford of Yale University to prepare a seventh edition of his
father's work. A number of people became involved in the preparation
but work was slow until 1937. In that year a grant was obtained from
the Penrose Fund of the Geological Society of America to finance
additional full-time workers. Money was also advanced by the publishers,
John Wiley + Sons, Inc&. Volume /1, was completed in 1941
and published in 1944. The editors of this volume and Volume /2,
were the late Charles Palache, Clifford Frondel, and the late Harry
Berman, all of Harvard University. Work on Volume /2, was
begun in 1941, interrupted by the war in 1942, and resumed in 1945. The
volume was completed in 1950 and published in 1951. A supplementary
grant from the Geological Society of America helped finance its
publication. Besides the editors there were many contributors in the
United States and Great Britain to Volumes /1, and /2,. W&
E& Ford, for example, continued to supply data on the occurrence
of minerals until his death in 1939. Volume /3, is nearing completion
and there are plans to revise Volume /1,. The project is currently
supported by Harvard University. _SUBSTANCES:_ Minerals.
_PROPERTIES:_ Crystallographic, physical, optical, and chemical
properties. The crystallographic data given include interaxial angles
and unit cell dimensions; the physical property values include hardness,
melting point, and specific gravity. _SOURCES OF DATA:_ Almost
entirely original articles in journals; abstracts and other compilations
on rare occasions when original papers are not available.
_CRITICALITY:_ All information is carefully appraised and uncertain
facts are designated by (?). An authentic diffraction pattern
is always obtained and optical properties are frequently checked. _USE
OF NOMENCLATURE, SYMBOLS, UNITS, PHYSICAL CONSTANTS:_ Recommendations
of international authorities, such as the International Union
of Crystallography, are followed. There is a complete synonymy at
the beginning of each species description. _CURRENCY:_ Currency
in the usual sense cannot be maintained in an undertaking of this sort.
_FORMAT:_ The data are presented in text and tables in bound
volumes. Volume /1, of the seventh edition contains an introduction
and data for eight classes of minerals; Volume /2, contains data
for forty-two classes. References are given at the end of each mineral
description and a general index is given at the end of each volume.
There will be a comprehensive index in Volume /3, covering all
three volumes. _PUBLICATION AND DISTRIBUTION:_ Volume /1, (**f)
of the seventh edition of DANA'S SYSTEM OF MINERALOGY was published
in 1944 and Volume /2, (**f) in 1951 by John Wiley + Sons,
Inc&, New York, N& Y&. (The association of Wiley + Sons
with the Dana Mineralogies dates back to 1844 when they published
the second edition of the SYSTEM.) The two volumes are available
from the publisher for $14.00 and $16.00, respectively. #/2,-5.
THE GROTH INSTITUTE#

_ORGANIZATION:_ "The Groth Institute",

which was established in 1958, is a group activity affiliated
with the Physics Department of The Pennsylvania State University,
University Park, Pa&. Ray Pepinsky is the Director. The Institute
derives its name from Paul von Groth's CHEMISCHE KRYSTALLOGRAPHIE,
a five-volume work which appeared between 1906 and 1919.
The resident staff is large and consists of professional assistants,
graduate students, abstractors, librarian, technical editor, machine
operators, secretarial help, and others. There are also corresponding
members and outside advisory groups. The Air Force Office of Scientific
Research has provided financial assistance in the early stages
of the Institute's program. _SUBSTANCES:_ All crystalline
substances and other solid-state materials. _PROPERTIES:_ The
aim is to collect a very broad range of physical, chemical, morphological,
and structural data for crystals on an encyclopedic scale and to
seek all possible useful and revealing correlations of properties with
internal structure. _SOURCES OF DATA:_ The first stage of operation
has centered on the literature imaging of critical or summarizing
tabulations such as the Barker Index. Coverage of primary literature
will follow. Unpublished data will be available to the Groth institute
from cooperating groups and individuals. _CRITICALITY:_
Critical evaluation of all data compiled is not a primary aim of this
project. However, the proposed correlation of the many interrelated
properties of crystals will reveal discrepancies in the recorded data
and suggest areas for reinvestigation. In addition, the availability
of computers will permit recalculation and refinement of much structural
information. _USE OF NOMENCLATURE, SYMBOLS, UNITS, PHYSICAL
CONSTANTS:_ For punched-card or tape storage of information all
literature values must be conformed to a common language. In this
way a degree of unification of nomenclature, symbols, and units will be
realized.
BECAUSE INDIVIDUAL CLASSES OF foods differ in their requirements
for preservation, a number of methods have been developed over the years
involving one or a combination of procedures such as dehydration,
fermentation, salting, chemical treatment, canning, refrigeration, and
freezing. The basic objectives in each instance are to make available
supplies of food during the intervals between harvesting or slaughter,
to minimize losses resulting from the action of microorganisms and
insects, and to make it possible to transport foods from the area of
harvest or production to areas of consumption. In earlier years,
the preservation of food was essentially related to survival. In
the more sophisticated atmosphere of today's developed nations, food-preservation
techniques have sought also to bring variety, peak freshness,
and optimum taste and flavor in foods at reasonable cost to the
comsumer. With the development of nuclear technology, isotopic
materials, and machine radiation sources in recent years, the possibilities
of applying ionizing radiation to the preservation of foods attracted
the attention of investigators in the United States and throughout
the world. An early hope that irradiation might be the ultimate
answer to practically all food preservation problems was soon dispelled.
Interest remained, however, in the possibility that it would serve
as a useful supplementary method for counteracting spoilage losses
and for preserving some foods at lower over-all costs than freezing, or
without employing heat or chemicals with their attendant taste alterations.

#FACTORS RESPONSIBLE FOR THE SPOILAGE OF FOODS#

The chief
factors responsible for the spoilage of fresh foodstuffs are (1) microorganisms
such as bacteria, molds, and yeasts, (2) enzymes, (3) insects,
(4) sprouting, and (5) chemical reactions. Microorganisms are often
responsible for the rapid spoilage of foods. Of special concern is
the growth of bacteria such as <Clostridium botulinum> which generate
poisonous products. Enzymatic action in stored food produces changes
which can adversely affect the appearance of food or its palatability.
Spoilage by chemical action results from the reaction of one group
of components in the food with others or with its environment, as in
corrosion of the walls of metal containers or the reaction of fats with
oxygen in the air to produce rancidity. Sprouting is a naturally
occurring phenomenon in stored potatoes, onions, carrots, beets,
and similar root vegetables. Insect infestation is a problem of importance
chiefly in stored grain. The presence of parasitic organisms
such as <Trichinella spiralis> in pork introduces another factor which
must be dealt with in food processing. To permit the storage
of food for long periods of time, a method of preservation must accomplish
the destruction of microorganisms and inhibition of enzymatic
action. The term "sterilization" applies to methods involving essentially
complete destruction of all microorganisms. Food treated in
this manner and protected from recontamination by aseptic methods of packaging
and containment presumably could be stored for long periods without
refrigeration. The process of "pasteurization" involves milder
and less prolonged heat treatment which accomplishes the destruction
of most, but not all, of the microorganisms. Less severe thermal
treatment as by blanching or scalding serves to inactivate enzymes.

#GENERAL
EFFECTS OF IONIZING RADIATION#

Ionizing radiation can cause

the destruction of microorganisms and insects involved in food spoilage
or, at lower doses, can inhibit their action. It furnishes a means
of destroying insects in stored grain products as well as certain parasitic
organisms present in meats. Deactivation of enzymes is also
possible, although some types require extremely heavy doses of 10 ~Mrad
or more. Because of undesirable flavors, odors, colors, and generally
low palatability associated with radiation treatment of this magnitude,
the inactivation of enzymes is best accomplished prior to irradiation
by the conventional heat-processing methods of blanching.

Radiation does not retard the chemical spoilage of food. It will,

however, inhibit the sprouting of potatoes and other root vegetables.

The radiation doses required for the preservation of foods

are in the following ranges: _1._ For radiosterilization, to destroy
all organisms for long-term preservation- about 4.5 ~Mrad for
nonacid foods of low salt content. _2._ For radiopasteurization,
to partially destroy microorganisms; results vary with types of food,
storage conditions, and objectives of treatment- commonly of the
order of 0.2 ~Mrads but up to about 0.8 ~Mrads. _3._ For
destruction of insects- about 25,000 ~rads. _4._ For inhibiting
the sprouting of root vegetables- 4,000 to 10,000 ~rads.
Preserving foods with ionizing radiation leads to some undesirable side
effects, particularly at the higher radiation dosages. In this respect,
the general palatability and individual acceptance of most radiosterilized
foods has, to date, been found to be low in comparison with
fresh and commercially processed foods. A number of foods are quite
acceptable as regards taste and palatability, however, at dosages substantially
less than sterilization levels. Moreover, the nutritive value
of irradiated foods apparently undergoes little, if any, change, although
some of the fat-soluble vitamins are affected by sterilization
doses.

#RADIATION SOURCES#

For irradiation of food, the results

obtained depend upon the dose rather than the specific type of radiation,
and X-ray, gamma, and high-energy electron radiation are suitable.
Aside from availability and economic considerations, each has certain
practical advantages; for example, gamma rays give deeper penetration
but cannot be focused or collimated, whereas unidirectional electron
beams may be split and directed to both the top and bottom of the
food package to be irradiated. Selection of a source for commercial irradiation
would involve consideration of numerous factors including required
dose rate, load factor, throughput, convenience, safety, and most
important, costs. Of the potentially useful sources of ionizing
radiations, gamma sources, cobalt-60, cesium-137, fission products,
or a reactor irradiation loop system using a material such as an indium
salt have received most attention for food-preservation systems.
Of the various particle accelerators, the Van de Graff machines, resonant
transformers, and linear accelerators are the principal ones available
for commercial use. Costs of the effective energy produced
by these sources is a major obstacle in the development of food-preservation
processes. Estimated production costs of radiation energy
from machine and nuclide sources range from $1 to $10 per ~kwhr. Conventional
energy for processing foods is available in the range of
at most a few cents per ~kwhr for electric power and the equivalent
of a few mills per ~kwhr for process steam. Radiation, therefore, is
at an initial cost disadvantage even though only 1 to 10 per cent as
much radiation energy as heat energy is required for radiopasteurization
or radiosterilization. What are the possibilities of lowered radiation
production costs for the future? It has been estimated that for
applications on a megawatt scale costs might reach values in the neighborhood
of 10 cents per ~kwhr for large-scale accelerators or for
gamma radiation generated in a reactor core. No comparable reductions
in the cost of nuclide radiation are foreseen. Such projections, however,
appear highly
speculative and the capacities involved are far beyond
those foreseen for food-preservation facilities. Because agricultural
activities are seasonal and the areas of production and harvest
of many foods are widely scattered geographically, and because of
the high cost of transporting bulk food items any substantial distance
to a central processing location, the use of large central processing
stations, where low-cost radiation facilities approaching the megawatt
range might be utilized, is inherently impracticable.

#PRESENT STATUS
OF IRRADIATION PRESERVATION OF FOODS#

The objective of complete

sterilization of foods is to produce a wholesome and palatable product
capable of being stored without refrigeration for extended periods
of time. Chief interest in radiosterilization resides in the military
services. For them, providing appetizing food under battle or emergency
conditions is a paramount consideration. They require completely
sterile foods capable of being stored without refrigeration, preferably
items already cooked and ready to eat. High nutritional value, variety,
palatability, and appetizing appearance are important for reasons
of morale. Foods for rear stations, which require cooking, but no refrigeration,
are also of interest. Of primary interest are meats.

Radiopasteurization, which produces fewer adverse sensory changes

in food products, has potential usefulness in prolonging the keeping
qualities of fresh and refrigerated food items. Thus, food so processed
might reach more remote markets and permit the consumer to enjoy more
produce at peak freshness and palatability. Commercial interest is chiefly
in this type of treatment, as is military interest under peacetime
conditions. The present status of food preservation by ionizing
radiation is discussed by food classes in the following paragraphs.
_MEATS_ The radiation processing of meat has received extensive
investigation. To date, the one meat showing favorable results at
sterilization doses is pork. Of particular interest to the military
services is the demonstration that roast pork, after radiosterilization,
is superior in palatability to available canned pork products. Tests
with beef have been largely unsuccessful because of the development
of off-flavors. A prime objective of the Army Quartermaster Corps
program is to find the reasons for beef's low palatability and means
of overcoming it, since it is a major and desirable dietary item. Partly
because low-level heat treatment is needed to inactivate enzymes
before radiosterilization, treated fresh meats have the appearance of
boiled or canned meat. Off-flavor is a less severe problem with
the radiopasteurization of meats, but problems of commercial acceptability
remain. Moderate radiation doses of from 100,000 to 200,000 ~rads
can extend the shelf life (at 35 ~F) of fresh beef from 5 days
to 5 or 6 weeks. However, the problem of consumer acceptability remains.
The preradiation blanching process discolors the treated beef
and liquid accumulates in prepackaged cuts. Cooked beef irradiated in
the absence of oxygen assumes an unnatural pink color. When lamb
and mutton are irradiated at substerilization doses, the meat becomes
dehydrated, the fat become chalky, and, again, unnatural changes in
color occur. Ground meats such as fresh pork sausage and hamburger
have a relatively short shelf life under refrigeration, and radiopasteurization
might be thought to offer distinctly improved keeping
qualities. However, a major problem here is one of scale of processing;
ground meats are usually prepared from scrap meats at the local
level, whereas irradiation at economic volumes of production would require
central processing and distribution facilities. The problems of
color change by blanching and liquid accumulation within the package are
the same as for solid cuts. Specialty cooked items containing
meat portions, as in "frozen dinners" might offer a potential use
for radiopasteurization. The principal potential advantage would be
that the finished product could be transported and stored at lower cost
under refrigeration instead of being frozen. A refrigerated item
could also be heated and served in less time than is required for frozen
foods of the same type. Competitive processes for preserving
meats are by canning and freezing. Costs of canning meat are in the
range of 0.8 to 5 cents per pound; costs of freezing are in the area
of 2 to 3.5 cents per pound. The table on page 10 shows costs of canning
and freezing meat, and estimated costs for irradiation under certain
assumed conditions. Under the conditions of comparison, it will
be noted that: _(1)_ Radiosterilization (at 3 ~Mrad) is more
expensive than canning, particularly for the cesium-137 source. _(2)_
Radiopasteurization by either the electron accelerator or cesium-137
source is in the range of freezing costs. _(3)_ Irradiation
using the nuclide source is more expensive than use of an electron accelerator.
_POULTRY_ Results of irradiation tests with poultry have
been quite successful. At sterilizing doses, good palatability results,
with a minimum of changes in appearance, taste, and odor. Radiopasteurization
has also been successful, and the shelf life of chicken
can be extended to a month or more under refrigerated storage as compared
with about 10 days for the untreated product. Acceptable taste and
odor are retained by the irradiated and refrigerated chicken. Acceptance
of radiopasteurization is likely to be delayed, however, for two
reasons: (1) the storage life of fresh chicken under refrigeration
is becoming a minimal problem because of constantly improved sanitation
and distributing practices, and (2) treatment by antibiotics, a measure
already approved by the Federal Food and Drug Administration,
serves to extend the storage life of chicken at a low cost of about 0.5
cent per pound. _SEAFOOD_ Fresh seafood products are extremely
perishable. Although refrigeration has served to extend the storage
life of these products, substantially increased consumption might be possible
if areas remote from the seacoast could be served adequately.
Furthermore, it has made an exact assessment of the removal mechanisms
possible. The instrument is shown in Fig& 1 and consists
essentially of a hard, sharp, tungsten carbide knife which is pushed
along the substrate to remove the coating. The force required to accomplish
removal is plotted, by means of an electronic recorder, against
distance of removal. Since the removal force is a function of coating
thickness, a differential transformer pickup has been incorporated into
the instrument to accurately measure film thickness. This, too, is
recorded against distance by a repeat run over the same track previously
cut. A number of adjustment features are included in the Hesiometer
to facilitate measurement and permit ready removal of coatings deposited
on such substrates as iron and other metals, glass, wood, and
plastic surfaces. The measurement of topcoats on primers can also readily
be carried out. Hesiometer results have been found to compare
excellently with manual knife scratching tests. The instrumental
method, however, is about 100 times more sensitive and yields numerical
results which can be accurately repeated at wil over a period of time.
If a wedge-shaped coating of increasing thickness is removed from
a substrate by an instrument like the Hesiometer with a knife of constant
rake angle, a number of removal mechanisms are often observed
which depend upon the thickness of the coating. At low thicknesses a
cutting (or shearing) phenomenon is often encountered. As the coating
becomes thicker, the cutting may abruptly change to a cracking type of
failure. If the coating becomes still thicker, a peeling type failure
finally can occur. The typical appearance of these various mechanisms
is illustrated in Figs& 2, 3, and 4, which are single frame enlargements
of high speed movies taken during the course of the knife removal
process. It can be seen from Fig& 2 that the cutting removal
of a coating from its substrate involves pure cohesive failure of the
coating. The molecular forces holding the coating to the substrate are
obviously greater than the cohesive strength of the coating and
failure occurs by shear along a plane starting at the tip of the knife
and extending to the coating surface. The pictures of Figs&
3 and
4 show the cracking and peeling types of removal where the coating
is detached by failure in a region at, or close to, the interface between
coating and substrate. If the force required to remove the
coatings is plotted against film thickness, a graph as illustrated schematically
in Fig& 5 may characteristically result. Here, ~<H>
is the coatings removal force measured parallel to the surface of the
substrate and ~<t> is the film thickness. It can be seen that
the force is characteristic of the removal process and changes abruptly
from cutting to cracking to peeling removal. Also, it can be readily
seen that the cutting and peeling types of failure show a steady state
response, while the cracking mechanism is of a dynamic nature.
It should be recalled that these three mechanisms can occur on the
same coating deposited upon the same substrate merely as a function of
changes in coatings thickness. Presumably the interfacial bond strength
and gross cohesive properties are identical in each case. What then,
are the factors that contribute to these phenomena? Why should
the "practical adhesion" of a coating as assessed by a knife method
change, initially increasing rather rapidly and then decreasing stepwise
to very low values as the knife is forced through a coating of increasing
thickness?

#CUTTING MECHANISM OF COHESIVE FAILURE#

The
cutting (or shearing) removal process has been previously described.
It was found that the coating is separated from its substrate entirely
by cohesive failure. The details of the removal process are shown
schematically in Fig& 6. The various forces result from the reaction
of the removed paint chip against the face of the knife and along
the shear plane, which makes an angle ~|f with the substrate. The
action and reaction forces are ~<R> and **f, respectively and
are equal and opposite in direction. All the other force vectors are
derived from these. **f is the force required to cut a coating of thickness
~<t> from the substrate. **f is the shear force along the shear
plane; **f and **f are the thrust forces acting against coating
and knife, respectively; **f is the normal compressive force acting
on the shear plane; **f is the friction force between chip and knife
surfaces, and ~<P> is the normal force acting on the face of the
knife. ~|a is the rake angle of the knife; ~|f is the angle
the shear plane makes with the substrate; ~|t is the friction
angle; and ~|b is the angle the resultants make with the plane of
the substrate. An analysis of the vector relationships shows
that the rake angle ~|a and the friction angle ~|t determine
the vector direction **f of the force resultants ~<R> and **f. Consequently,
both the rake angle of the knife as well as the friction
occurring between the back of the removed coating and the front of the
knife will determine in large part the detailed mechanism of the cutting
removal process. It is difficult to measure the direction
and magnitude of ~<R> directly. In actual practice, the values most
readily amenable to measurement are the cutting force **f and the
shear angle ~|f. These two values and the rake angle ~|a are
sufficient to determine the other parameters of these relationships.
~|a is defined by the geometry of the knife; ~|f can readily
be determined by measuring the thickness of the coating before and after
cutting from the substrate; **f is instrumentally determined. From
Fig& 6 the relationship between these parameters can readily be
derived and the cutting force is **f where ~|l is the shear strength
of the coating and is a parameter of the coatings material, ~<w>
is the width of the removed coating and ~<t> is its thickness.

If the cutting force, **f is plotted against film thickness,

a straight line should result passing through the origin and having slope
**f. However, in the actual assessment of the cutting force by instrumental
methods for any thickness of coating a number of spurious effects
occur which must be taken into account and which make the measured
value larger than the true cutting force indicated by eqn& (1).

#BLUNT KNIFE#
One of these is the fact that the knife employed, no
matter how well sharpened, will have a slightly rounded cutting edge.
This signifies that ~|a, the rake angle, is no longer a constant
to zero film thickness. The curvature of this bluntness is, in the
case of the Carboloy knife employed in the Hesiometer, determined by
the grain sizes of the polished grit and the tungsten carbide crystals
cemented together in the knife body and is in the order of 0.1 to 0.2
mil&. The force vector concept of Fig& 6 can readily be
applied to this condition also. Because the rake angle **f at the tip
of the knife is very much smaller (or even negative) when compared
to the value of ~|a for the major portion of the knife, a very rapid
increase in cutting force with thickness will result. This reduces
to the relationship: **f where **f is the intercept at zero thickness
of the extrapolation of the slope indicated in eqn& (1), **f is the
thickness of the coating equivalent to the rounding off of the knife
tip, **f is a straight line first approximation of this roundness, and
the other symbols are equivalent to those of eqn& (1). It can be
seen that **f is a constant, and is determined for the most part by the
geometry of the knife. The blunter the knife, the higher is the value
of **f. The importance of a hard, abrasion resistant knife material
like the Carboloy employed in the Hesiometer immediately becomes
apparent. Softer knives would blunt very rapidly, making the value of
**f inexact. In extreme cases of very soft knives this value may even
change during the course of a measurement.

#KNIFE FRICTION#

A second
factor which enters into the practical measurement of the instrumentally
determined cutting force is the frictional resistance caused
by the bottom of the knife against the substrate. This is not a constant
value like **f, but varies with the thickness of the coating and the
direction and magnitude of the resultants ~<R> and **f of Fig&
6. Under equilibrium conditions of cutting the chip exerts a thrust
**f against the knife which tends to push it into the substrate or
lift it away from the substrate depending on the vector direction of **f.
The resultant friction force, **f is thus directly proportional to
**f and consequently also to film thickness. The value of **f
can readily be assessed by determining the frictional force exerted
on the knife while running over the previously stripped coating track
under various external loadings. A straight line relationship is usually
observed in a plot of **f against load ~<L>, having slope ~<k>,
and **f Since the load ~<L>, under actual cutting conditions
is caused by **f, it can be seen that **f The measured force,
~<H>, in cutting removal of coatings from their substrates consequently
can be seen to be the sum of that force required to cut the
coating, **f that due to the bluntness of the knife, **f, and that due
to the friction between the bottom of the knife and the substrate, **f,
or **f The first two forces are directly interrelated and depend
upon film thickness, whereas **f is independent of these two and is a
constant for a given knife/coating combination. These theoretical
relationships are more clearly illustrated in Fig& 7 and their
sum can be seen to correlate in form with practical measurements made
with the Hesiometer as illustrated in the first portion of Fig& 5
for the cutting mechanism.

#CHIPPING MECHANISM OF COHESIVE FAILURE#

Although a large number of coatings systems,

particularly at low thicknesses fail cohesively by the cutting mechanism,
frequently a second type of cohesive failure may also take place.
This is a chipping, dynamic type failure encountered with very brittle
coatings resins or very highly pigmented films. This is shown in
the photomicrograph of Fig& 8. The basic difference between
the continuous cutting mechanism and that of the chipping mechanism
is that instead of shear occurring in the coating ahead of the knife continuously
without fracture, rupture intermittently occurs along the
shear plane. The detailed mechanisms of this type of failure have been
studied extensively by MERCHANT for metal cutting, and the principles
found can be directly applied to coatings. By studying
high speed movies made of this type of failure, the sequence of relationships
as schematically illustrated in Fig& 9 could be observed.

In the first picture (9~a) the knife is just beginning to advance

into the inclined surface which was left from the previous chip
formation. In the next, the shear plane angle is high, and extends to
the inclined work surface. With increasing advance of the knife into
the coating the shear plane extends to the coatings surface and the shear
angle rapidly decreases. Eventually, rupture occurs along the shear
plane (9~e), and the cycle repeats itself. MERCHANT
has found that the same basic relationships which describe the geometry
and force systems in the case of the cutting mechanism can also be
applied to the discontinuous chip formation provided the proper values
of instantaneous shear angle and instantaneous chip thickness or cross-sectional
area are used. Consequently, if the shear angle ~|f
is replaced by the rupture angle **f, the relationships as described in
eqns& (1), (2), (4), and (6) will directly apply.

#THE CRACKING
MECHANISM#

Under equilibrium cutting conditions, the chip exerts a

force **f against the coating and an equal opposite force **f against
the knife in the plane of the substrate as shown in Fig& 6. If the
rake angle ~|a of the knife is high enough and the friction angle
~|t between the front of the knife and the back of the chip is low
enough to give a positive value for **f, the resultant vector ~<R>
will lie above the plane of the substrate.

Within only a few years, foamed plastics materials have managed

to grow into an integral, and important, phase of the plastics industry-
and the end is still not yet in sight. Urethane foam, as only
one example, was only introduced commercially in this country in 1955.
Yet last year's volume probably topped 100 million lb& and expectations
are for a market of 275 million lb& by 1964. Many of the other
foamed plastics, particularly the styrenes, show similar growth potential.
And there are even newer foamed plastics that are yet to be
evaluated. As this issue goes to press, for example, one manufacturer
has announced an epoxy foam with outstanding buoyancy and impact strength;
another reports that a cellular polypropylene, primarily for use
in wire coating applications, is being investigated. On the
following pages, each of the major commercial foamed plastics is described
in detail, as to properties, applications, and methods of processing.

It might be well to point out, however, some of the newer

developments that have taken place within the past few months which
might have a bearing on the future of the various foamed plastics involved.
In urethane foams, for example, there has been a definite trend
toward the polyether-type materials (which are now available in two-component
rigid foam systems) and the emphasis is definitely on one-shot
molding. Most manufacturers also seem to be concentrating on formulating
fire-resistant or self-extinguishing grades of urethane foam that
are aimed specifically at the burgeoning building markets. Urethane
foam as an insulator is also coming in for a good deal of attention.
In one outstanding example, Whirlpool Corp& found that by switching
to urethane foam insulation, they could increase the storage capacity
of gas refrigerators to make them competitive with electric models.
Much interest has also been expressed in new techniques for processing
the urethane foams, including spraying, frothing, and molding (see
article, p& 391 for details). And in meeting the demands for urethane
foam as a garment interlining, new adhesives and new methods of laminating
foam to a substrate have been developed. New techniques
for automatic molding of expandable styrene beads have helped boost
that particular material into a number of new consumer applications, including
picnic chests, beverage coolers, flower pots, and flotation-type
swimming toys. Two other end-use areas which contributed to expandable
styrene's growth during the year were packaging (molded inserts
replacing complicated cardboard units) and foamed-core building panels.
Extruded expandable styrene film or sheet- claimed to be competitive
price-wise with paper- also showed much potential, particularly
for packaging. Sandwich panels for building utility shelters that
consist of kraft paper skins and rigid styrene foam cores also aroused
interest in the construction field. In vinyl foam, the big news
was the development of techniques for coating fabrics with the material
(for details, see P& 395). Better "hand", a more luxurious
feel, and better insulating properties were claimed to be the result.
Several companies also saw possibilities in using the technique for
extruding or molding vinyl products with a slight cellular core that
would reduce costs yet would not affect physical properties of the end
product to any great extent. Readers interested in additional
information on foams are referred to the Foamed Plastics Chart appearing
in the Technical Data section and to the list of references which
appears below.

#URETHANE FOAMS#

@ Since the mid 1950s, when

urethane foam first made its appearance in the American market, growth
has been little short of fantastic. Present estimates are that production
topped the 100-million-lb& mark in 1960 (85 to 90 million
lb& for flexible, 10 or 11 million lb& for rigid); by 1965, production
may range from 200 to 350 million lb& for flexible and from 115
to 150 million lb& for rigid. The markets that have started to open
up for the foam in the past year or so seem to justify the expectations.
Furniture upholstery, as just one example, can easily take millions
of pounds; foamed refrigerator insulation is under intensive evaluation
by every major manufacturer; and use of the foam for garment
interlining is only now getting off the ground, with volume potential
in the offing. _BASIC CHEMISTRY_ Urethane foams are, basically,
reaction products of hydroxyl-rich materials and polyisocyanates (usually
tolylene diisocyanate). Blowing can be either one of two types-
carbon dioxide gas generated by the reaction of water on the polyisocyanate
or mechanical blowing through the use of a low-boiling liquid
such as a fluorinated hydrocarbon. The most important factor
in determining what properties the end-product will have is quite naturally
the type of hydroxyl-rich compound that is used in its production.
Originally, the main types used were various compositions of polyesters.
These are still in wide use today, particularly in semi-rigid
formulations, for such applications as cores for sandwich-type structural
panels, foamed-in-place insulation, automotive safety padding, arm
rests, etc&. More recently, polyethers- again in varied compositions,
molecular weights, and branching- have come into use at first
for the flexible foams, just lately for the rigids. The polyether glycols
are claimed to give flexible urethanes a spring-back action which
is much desired in cushioning. Although the first polyether foams
on the market had to be produced by the two-step prepolymer method,
today, thanks to new catalysts, they can be produced by a one-shot
technique. It is possible that the polyether foams may soon be molded
on a production basis in low-cost molds with more intricate contours
and with superior properties to latex foam. The polyester urethane
foam is generally produced with adipic acid polyesters; the polyether
group generally consists of foams produced with polypropylene glycol
or polypropylene glycol modified with a triol. _ONE SHOT VS&
PREPOLYMER_ In the prepolymer system, the isocyanate and resin are
mixed anhydrously and no foaming occurs. The foaming can be accomplished
at some future time at a different location by the addition of the
correct proportion of catalyst in solution. In one-shot, the isocyanate,
polyester or polyether resin, catalyst, and other additives are
mixed directly and a foam is produced immediately. Basically, this means
that simpler processing equipment (the mixture has good flowing characteristics)
and less external heat (the foaming reaction is exothermic
and develops internal heat) are required in one-shot foaming, although,
at the same time, the problems of controlling the conditions of
one-shot foaming are critical ones. _PROPERTIES_ Most commercial
uses of urethane foams require densities between 2 and 30 lb&/cu&
ft& for rigid foams, between 1 and 3 lb&/cu& ft& for flexible
foams. This latter figure compares with latex foam rubber at an average
of 5.5 lb&/cu& ft& in commercial grades. _COMPRESSION STRENGTH:_
Graph in Fig& 1, p& 392, indicates how the ratio of
compressive strength to density varies as the latter is increased or
decreased. The single curve line represents a specific formulation in
a test example. By varying the formula, this curve may be moved forward
or backward along the coordinates to produce any desired compression
strength/density ratio. _THERMAL CONDUCTIVITY AND TEMPERATURE RESISTANCE:_
In flexible urethane foams, we are referring to the range
between the highest and lowest temperatures under which the materials'
primary performance remains functionally useful. In temperature
resistance, this quality is usually related to specific properties,
e&g&, flexural, tensile strengths, etc&. Thermal conductivity is
directly traceable to the material's porous, air-cell construction
which effectively traps air or a gas in the maze of minute bubbles which
forms its composition. These air or gas bubbles make highly functional
thermal barriers. The ~K factor, a term used to denote the rate
of heat transmission through a material (B&t&u&/sq& ft&
of material/hr&/`F&/in& of thickness) ranges from 0.24 to 0.28
for flexible urethane foams and from 0.12 to 0.16 for rigid urethane
foams, depending upon the formulation, density, cell size, and nature
of blowing agents used. Table /1,, p& 394, shows a comparison of
~K factor ratings of a number of commercial insulating materials
in common use, including two different types of rigid urethane foam. _FLEXURAL
STRENGTH:_ This term refers to the ability of a material
to resist bending stress and is determined by measuring the load required
to cause failure by bending. The higher-density urethane semi-rigid
foams usually have stronger flex fatigue resistance, i&e&, the
12 lb&/cu& ft& foam has 8 times the flexural strength of the
3 lb&/cu& ft& density. Note that flexural strength is not always
improved by simply increasing the density, nor is the change always
proportional from one formulation to another. Where flexural strength
is an important factor, be sure that your urethane foam processor is
aware of it. _TENSILE STRENGTH:_ This property refers to the greatest
longitudinal stress or tension a material can endure without tearing
apart. Like compression strength of urethane foams, it has a direct
relationship to formulation. Exceptional tensile strength is another
of urethane foam's strong features. Figure 2, above, shows the
aging properties of urethane foams as determined by the percent of change
in tensile strength during exposure to ultra-violet light. _PROCESSING
URETHANES_ There are many ways of producing a foamed urethane
product. The foam can be made into slab stock and cut to shape, it
can be molded, it can be poured-in-place, it can be applied by spray
guns, etc&. Slab stock is still one of the most important forms
of urethane end-product in use today. Basically, the foam machines
that produce such stock consist of two or more pumping units, a variable
mixer, a nozzle carriage assembly, and, in many cases, a conveyor
belt to transport and contain the liquid during the reaction process
and until it solidifies into foam. The ingredients are fed from tanks
through a hose and into the mixer at a predetermined rate. The mixing
head moves back and forth slowly across the width of the receptacle.
It only takes a few minutes for the foaming action to be completed
and after a short cure, the material can be cut into lengths as desired.

Much has been done in the way of ingenious slitters to fabricate

the slab stock into finished products. Profile cutting machines
are available which can split foam to any desired thickness and produce
sine, triangle, trapezoid, and other profiles in variable heights,
dimensions, etc&. The convoluted sheets can be combined to attain
certain cushioning effects mechanically rather than chemically. Also
available is a slitter which "peels" the inside of a folded block
of foam and can be used to slit continuous sheets up to 300 yd& in
length, down to 1/16 in& thick. The low cost and ease of fabrication
of the dies for three-dimensional foam cutting plus the wide
variety of shapes, dimensions, and contours that can be tailor-made to
customer requirements has made the technique useful for producing case
liners, materials handling containers, packaging and cushioning devices,
and such novelties as soap dishes, toys, head rests, arch supports,
and gas pedal covers. _MOLDING_ Although slab stock appeared
first, it soon became apparent that for the production of cushions with
irregular shapes, crowned contours, or rounded edges, the cutting of
slab stock is a wasteful and uneconomical process. Only by resorting
to molding techniques can the cushion manufacturer hope to compete satisfactorily
in the established cushion market. The closed molding
of flexible urethane foams has been a problem ever since the introduction
of the material (molding in open molds was more feasible).
Satisfactory methods for polyester foams and even prepolymer polyether
foams were never fully achieved. Closed molding generally resulted
in parts weighing more (because of higher density) than parts fabricated
from free-blown foams. This counteracted the gain from having no scrap
loss. In addition, there were difficulties with the flow and spreading
of the foam mixture over the mold surface, trouble with lack of
gel strength in the rising foam, and problems of splits. The introduction
of one-shot polyether foam systems, aided by the development of
new catalysts, helped to alleviate some of the problems of closed molding.
While there are still many bugs to be ironed out, the technique
is fast developing. _OTHER TECHNIQUES_ Simple systems are available
that make it possible for urethane foam components to be poured, pumped,
etc&, into a void where they foam up to fill the void. In a
typical application- the making of rigid urethane foam sandwich panels-
an amount of foam mixture calculated to expand 10 to 20% more
than the volume of the panel is poured into the panel void and the top
of the panel is locked in place by a jig.
Temperature of the wash and rinse waters is maintained at 85-90`F&
(29-32`C&). The top rolls are loaded with 40 lbs&. Sixty
lbs& loading is possible but 40 lbs& is adequate. The suds
box drain is arranged at the start to deliver into the raised main drain
pipe (thus returning suds to soap box) and the machine is started.
The 160-ml& bath containing the calculated amount of detergent is
applied slowly and directly to the running specimen. Washing is continued
for 30 minutes or for a period of time sufficient to allow 100 nips
or passes through the squeeze rolls. At the conclusion of the washing,
8 liters of water at 90`F& (32`C&) are automatically metered
from the rinse reservoir to the washing tubs, 4 liters to each tub.
This operation requires from 10 to 12 minutes. During the rinsing
operation the volume in the tubs gradually increases until overflow
from the main drain begins. At this point the drains are readjusted so
that the suds box drain will discharge directly into the waste line
and the main tub drain is set at the 2-1/2 mark on the drain gauge. When
all of the rinse water has passed from the reservoir to the tubs the
main drains are lowered to permit complete draining of the tubs. The
run is complete when all the water has drained off into the waste line.

By this procedure rinsing progresses in two stages, first

by dilution until the time when the drains are separated and thereafter
by displacement of the soil-bearing liquor by clean rinse water, since
soiled liquor squeezed from the specimens at the nip passes directly
to waste from the suds box drains. This method of rinsing appears
to produce maximum cleansing with minimum soil redeposition.

#SUGGESTED
EVALUATION AND CLASSIFICATION#

Evaluation may be made on

either a soil-removal or a grease-removal basis as desired. A
reflectance-measuring
instrument may be desirable to measure cleaning, whereas
Soxhlet extraction is necessary to measure grease removal.

#PURPOSE AND SCOPE#

This test method is intended for determining

the dimensional changes of woven or knitted fabrics, made of fibers other
than wool, to be expected when the cloth is subjected to laundering
procedures commonly used in the commercial laundry and the home. Four
washing test procedures are established, varying in severity from very
severe to very mild, and are intended to cover the range of practical
washing from commercial procedure to hand washing. Five drying test
procedures are established to cover the range of drying techniques
used in the home and commercial laundry. Three methods for determining
the dimensional restorability characteristics are established for those
textiles which require restoration by ironing or wearing after laundering.
These tests are not accelerated and must be repeated to evaluate
dimensional changes after repeated launderings. Table /1,
summarizes all of the various washing, drying, and restoration procedures
available. The person using these tests must determine which combination
of procedures is practical for any specific item in order to
evaluate the dimensional changes of textile fabrics or garments after
laundering procedures commonly used in the home or commercial laundry.
It is possible to identify the test procedure completely with a code
consisting of a Roman Numeral, a letter, and an Arabic number. For
example Test /3, ~E 1 refers to a specimen which has been washed
by procedure "/3," (at 160`F& for a total of 60 minutes
in the machine, has been dried in a tumble dryer by procedure "~E"
and has been subjected to restorative forces on the Tension
Presser by procedure "1".

#PRINCIPLE#

A specimen or garment
is washed in a cylindrical reversing wash wheel, dried and subjected
to restorative forces where necessary. Temperature and time of agitation
in the wash wheel are varied to obtain different degrees of severity.
Drying procedures and application of restorative force procedures
are varied to conform with end-use handling during home or commercial
laundering. Distances marked on the specimen in warp and filling
directions (or wales and courses for knitted fabrics) are measured before
and after laundering.

#APPARATUS AND MATERIALS#

_WASH WHEEL-
CYLINDRICAL WASH WHEEL OF THE REVERSING TYPE._ The wheel (cage)
is 20 to 24 inches inside diameter and 20 to 24 inches inside length.
There
are three fins each approximately three inches wide extending the full
length of the inside of the wheel. One fin is located every 120`
around the inside diameter of the wheel. The wash wheel rotates at a
speed of 30 revolutions per minute, making five to ten revolutions before
reversing. The water inlets are large enough to permit filling the
wheel to an eight-inch level in less than two minutes, and the outlet
is large enough to permit discharge of this same amount of water in
less than two minutes. The machine is equipped with a pipe for injecting
live steam that is capable of raising the temperature of water at
an eight-inch level from 110` to 140`F& (38` to 60`C&) in
less than two minutes. The machine shall contain an opening for the
insertion of a thermometer or other equivalent equipment for determining
the temperature of the water during the washing and rinsing procedures.
It is equipped with an outside water gauge that will indicate the
level of the water in the wheel. A domestic automatic washer
that will give equivalent results may be used. The wash wheel is the
equipment preferred for the test. _PRESSING EQUIPMENT- FLAT-BED
PRESS MEASURING 24 INCHES BY 50 INCHES OR LARGER._ Any flat-bed press
capable of pressing a specimen 22 inches square may be used as an
alternative. The flat-bed press is maintained at a temperature not less
than 275`F& (135`C&). _DRYER- DRYER OF THE ROTARY TUMBLE
TYPE, HAVING A CYLINDRICAL BASKET APPROXIMATELY 30 INCHES IN DIAMETER
AND 24 INCHES IN LENGTH AND ROTATING AT APPROXIMATELY 35 R&P&M&._
The dryer is provided with a means of maintaining a drying temperature
of 120`-160`F& (49`-71`C&), measured in the exhaust
vent as close as possible to the drying chamber. _SCREEN DRYING
RACKS- 16-MESH SCREENING (SARAN OR VELON)._ _DRYING ROOM-FACILITIES
FOR DRIP- OR LINE-DRYING._ _EXTRACTOR- CENTRIFUGAL EXTRACTOR
OF THE LAUNDRY-TYPE WITH A PERFORATED BASKET, APPROXIMATELY 11
INCHES DEEP BY 17 INCHES IN DIAMETER, WITH AN OPERATING SPEED OF APPROXIMATELY
1,500 R&P&M&._ _PEN AND INK, INDELIBLE- OR OTHER
SUITABLE MARKING DEVICE._ _MEASURING SCALE-._ _SOAP, NEUTRAL
CHIP- FED& SPEC& ~P ~S 566 OR ~ASTM ~D-496._
_SOFTENER- E&G& SODIUM METAPHOSPHATE OR SODIUM HEXAMETAPHOSPHATE
(IF NEEDED IN HARD WATER AREAS)._ _DETERGENT, SYNTHETIC-
ALKYLARYSULFONATE TYPE._ _FLATIRON, ELECTRIC- APPROXIMATELY
3 LB&_ _TENSION PRESSER- CONSISTING OF A PADDED IRONING BOARD
FROM WHICH EXTEND CLAMPING MEMBERS ON ALL FOUR SIDES._ Two of the
clamps are fixed to the edges of the board whereas two clamps travel on
guide rails opposite the fixed clamps. The movable clamps travel on
carriages which ride the rails and are drawn by dead-weight loading.
Sets of weights are provided so that the load can be selected in the
range of 1/2 to 4 pounds. A perforated aluminum plate, used to provide
the drying surface, is heated by means of a flatiron. A special template
is furnished with the apparatus to enable marking a specimen for
a central measuring area and the fabric extensions to the clamps (see
Fig& 2). _KNIT SHRINKAGE GAUGE- CONSISTING OF A SET OF 20 MOUNTING
PINS SET IN GUIDES IN RADIAL SLOTS (FIG&1)._ Each pin is individually
sprung to a tensioning member which is driven outwardly in
the slot. The springs have an extension of 1 inch at **f tension. The
tensioning members have a common drive so that the application of restorative
force takes place simultaneously in all directions in the plane
of the test specimen. The minimum diameter of the pin frame in the
collapsed state is 11 inches and the maximum diameter in the freely
extended state (unloaded) is 14 inches. The surface of the apparatus
in contact with the test specimen is uncluttered and polished so as
to be as friction-free as possible.

#TEST SPECIMENS#

The preparation
of test specimens will vary depending upon the type of dimensional
restorability procedure (if any) to be used. Three specimens
for each sample to be tested are required in order to arrive at a satisfactory
average of performance. This is especially true for knitted
fabrics. Specimens are allowed to reach moisture equilibrium with
a standard atmosphere of **f and **f and then laid out without tension
on a flat, polished surface, care being taken that the fabric is
free from wrinkles or creases. Fabrics that are badly distorted in their
unlaundered state due to faulty finishing may give deceptive dimensional
change results when laundered by any procedure. This also holds
true
if restorative forces are applied. Therefore, it is recommended that
in such cases the sample be replaced, or if used, the results of dimensional
change or dimensional restorability tests be considered as indicative
only. Generally, it is necessary to mark distances on
a specimen (or garment) in both lengthwise and widthwise directions and
to measure before and after laundering. The distances may be marked
with indelible ink and a fine-point pen, by sewing fine threads into
the fabric, or by a specially designed stamping machine. The marked distances
are parallel to the respective yarns. Usually, the greater the
original distances marked, the greater will be the accuracy of the
test. Distances of less than 10 inches are not recommended. _WOVEN
FABRICS TO BE DRIED BY PROCEDURE ~B (FLAT-BED PRESSED) OR RESTORED BY
PROCEDURE 3 (HAND IRONING):_ The specimen of fabric is a rectangle
at least 22 by 22 inches, except for cloth narrower than 22 inches,
in which case the specimen is the entire width of the fabric. Three
distances, each at least 18 inches, are measured and marked off parallel
to each of the warp and filling directions. The distances are at
least two inches from any edge of the specimen. _WOVEN OR WARP KNITTED
FABRICS TO BE SUBJECTED TO RESTORATIVE PROCEDURE 1 (TENSION PRESSER)._
Each specimen is at least 25 inches by 25 inches. Place the template
(Fig& 2) on the fabric so that the sides of the 10 inch square
cut out of the template are parallel to the warp and filling for woven
fabrics, or the wales and courses for knitted fabrics, and so that the
same amount of fabric extends beyond the edges of the template on all
sides. Mark the specimen at the outer edges of the template with pen
and <indelible ink;> also place three dots on the specimen at each
side of the 10 inch square, one dot at midpoint, and one at approximately
1/2 inch from each corner. Measure and record. _CIRCULAR KNITTED
FABRICS TO BE SUBJECTED TO RESTORATIVE PROCEDURE 2, (KNIT SHRINKAGE
GAUGE)._ Each specimen is approximately 16 inches square. The markings
consist of a centrally located 10 inch diameter measuring circle
and a 14 inch diameter circle of 20 dots equidistantly spaced (See
Figure 1). _GARMENTS._ Critical measurements in length and width
directions should be taken before and after washing, drying, and restorative
procedures.

#PROCEDURE#

_WASHING-_ The washing

procedures are summarized in Table /2,. Place the specimen
in the wash wheel with sufficient other similar fabric to make a dry
load of **f pounds. Start the wash wheel and note the time. Immediately
add water at 100-105`F& (38-43`C&) to the wheel to a level
of **f inches; this level will be increased by condensed steam.
When this water level has been reached, inject steam into the wheel until
the temperature reaches that shown in Column ~B of Table /2,.
Add sufficient soap (and softener if required to counteract hard
water) to furnish a good running suds, or if desired use a synthetic detergent.
_TEST /1,_- Stop the wash wheel at the end of the
time
shown in Column ~A of Table /2, and drain. Refill the machine
to a level of **f inches with water at 100-109` F& (38-43` C&)
and start the machine. Inject steam, if necessary, to reach the
temperature shown in Column ~D of Table /2,. Again stop the machine
at the end of the time shown in Column ~C of Table /2,.
This procedure is repeated for the second rinse, using the temperatures
and time shown in Columns ~F and ~E of Table /2,. _TESTS
/2,, /3,,
AND /4,._- Run the machine continuously until completion
of the test. Drain off the soap solution of the suds cycle at such
a time that the wheel has become substantially empty of soap and water
at the end of the time shown in Column ~A of Table /2,, measured
from the time the wash wheel was started. Refill the machine to a
level of **f inches with water at 100-109` F& (38-43` C&).
When this water level has been reached, inject steam until the temperature
is that shown in Column ~D. Drain off the water at such a time
that the wheel has become substantially empty of water at the end
of the sum of the times shown in Columns ~A and ~C, measured from
the time the wash wheel was started. Immediately refill to a level
of **f inches with water at 100-109` F& (38-43` C&). When
this water level has been reached inject steam until the temperature is
that shown in Column ~F. Drain off the water at such a time that
the wheel has become substantially empty of water at the end of the
sum of the times shown in Columns ~A, ~C, and ~E, measured from
the time the wash wheel was started.

High-gain, photoelectronic image intensification is applied under

conditions of low incident light levels whenever the integration time
required by a sensor or recording instrument exceeds the limits of
practicability. Examples of such situations are (aerial) night reconnaissance,
the recording of radioactive tracers in live body tissues,
special radiography in medical or industrial applications, track recording
of high energy particles, etc&. High-gain photoelectronic
image intensification may be achieved by several methods; some of
these are listed below: _(A)_ Cascading single stages by coupling
lens systems, _(B)_ Channel-type, secondary emission image intensifier,
_(C)_ Image intensifier based upon the "multipactor"
principle, _(D)_ Transmission secondary electron multiplication
image intensifiers (~TSEM tubes), _(E)_ Cascading of single
stages, enclosed in one common envelope. Cascading single stages
by <coupling lens systems> is rather inefficient as the lens systems
limit the obtainable gain quite severely. Channel-type image intensifiers
are capable of achieving high-gain values; suffer, however,
from an inherently low resolution. Image intensifiers based upon
the multipactor principle appear to hold promise as far as obtainable
resolution is concerned. However, the unavoidable low-duty cycle restricts
the effective gain. ~TSEM tubes have been constructed showing
high gain and resolution. However, electrostatic focus, important
for many applications, has not been realized for these devices. Resolution
limitations with electrostatic focus might be anticipated due to
chromatic aberrations. Furthermore, the thin film dynodes appear to
have a natural diameter limitation wherever a mesh support cannot be
tolerated. <Cascaded> single stages enclosed by a <common envelope>
have been constructed with high gain and high resolution. These
tubes may differ both in the choice of the electron optical system
and in the design of the coupling members. The electron optical system
may be either a magnetic or electrostatic one. The magnification
may be smaller, equal, or larger than unity. An electrostatic
system suffers generally from image plane curvature leading to defocusing
in the peripheral image region if a flat viewing screen (or interstage
coupler) is utilized, while a magnetic system requires accurate
adjustment of the solenoid, which is heavy and bulky. As it will be discussed
later, peripheral defocusing can be improved on by utilizing
curved fiber couplers. It should be noted, however, that the paraxial
resolution is quite similar for both electron optical systems.
It is felt that fiber-coupled double- (and multi-) stage image intensifiers
will gain considerable importance in the future. Therefore, we
shall consider in this paper the theoretical gain and resolution capabilities
of such tubes. The luminous efficiency and resolution of single
stages, fiber couplers, and finally of the composite tube will be
computed. It will be shown theoretically that the high image
intensification obtainable with such a tube and contact photography permits
the utilization of extremely low incident light levels. The effect
of device and quantum noise, associated with such low input levels,
will be described. After these theoretical considerations, constructional
details of a fiber-coupled, double-stage X-ray image
intensifier will be discussed. Measured performance characteristics
for this experimental tube will be listed. The conclusion shall
be reached that fiber-coupled, double-stage tubes represent a sensible
and practical approach to high-gain image intensification.

#BASIC
DESIGN OF A FIBER-COUPLED, DOUBLE-STAGE IMAGE INTENSIFIER#

The tube
design which forms the basis of the theoretical discussion shall
be described now. The electron optical system (see fig& 14-1) is
based in principle on the focusing action of concentric spherical cathode
and anode surfaces. The inner [anode] sphere is pierced, elongated
into a cup, and terminated by the phosphor screen. The photoelectrons
emitted from a circular segment of the cathode sphere are focused
by the positive lens action of the two concentric spheres, pass through
the [negative] lens formed by the anode aperture, and impinge
upon the cathodoluminescent viewing screen. The cylindrical focusing
electrode permits adjustment of the positive lens part by varying the
focusing potential. The anode potential codetermines the gain, ~<G>,
and magnification, ~<M>, of the stage. Both the photocathode
and the image plane of such an electrode configuration are curved
concave as seen from the anode aperture. The field-flattening property
of the biconcave fiber coupler can be utilized to alleviate the
peripheral resolution losses resulting with a flat phosphor-screen or
coupling member. For the same reason, the output fiber plate is planoconcave,
its exposed flat side permitting contact photography if a permanent
record is desired. As it will be shown later, the field-flattening
properties of the interstage and output fiber coupler comprise indeed
the main advantage of such a design. The second photocathode
and both phosphor surfaces are deposited on the fiber plate substrates.
The photocathode sensitivities ~<S>, phosphor efficiencies
~<P>, and anode potentials ~<V> of the individual stages shall
be distinguished by means of subscripts /1, and /2, in the text,
where required. Both stages are assumed to have unity magnification.

#THEORETICAL DISCUSSION OF FLUX GAIN#

_FLUX GAIN OF A SINGLE

STAGE_ The luminous gain of a single stage with **f (flux gain) is,
to a first approximation, given by the product of the photocathode
sensitivity ~<S> (amp/lumen), the anode potential ~<V> (volts),
and the phosphor conversion efficiency ~<P> (lumen-watt). In
general, ~<P> is a function of ~<V> and the current density,
but it shall here be assumed as a constant. The luminous
efficiency **f of a photocathode depends on the maximum radiant
sensitivity **f and on the spectral distribution of the incident light
**f by the relation: **f where **f **h normalized radiant photocathode
sensitivity. **f **h standard visibility function. The luminous flux
gain of a single stage is given by: **f If the input light distribution
falls beyond the visible range, **f as expected, since **f. Such
cases are not considered here. _EFFICIENCY OF FIBER COUPLERS_
The efficiency of fiber optics plates depends on four factors: _(A)_
numerical aperture (N&A&). _(B)_ end (Fresnel reflection)
losses (~<R>).
_(C)_ internal losses (I&L&). _(D)_
packing efficiency (F&R&). The numerical aperture of the fibers
is given by: **f where **f. The angle **f is measured in
the medium of index **f. Settled phosphors, as generally used in image
intensifiers, have low optical contact with the substrate surface,
hence **f shall be assumed. The numerical aperture should be in general
close to unity. This condition can be satisfied, e&g&, with **f
and **f or equivalent glass combinations. A sufficiently good
approximation for determining the end reflection losses ~<R>
can be
obtained from the angle independent Fresnel formula: **f For phosphor
to fiber and fiber to air surfaces, and assuming **f, we obtain
**f percent. This value may be reduced to 4.6 percent by means of a (very
thin) glass layer of index 1.5. Hence, the **f factor for the output
fiber coupler is **f. As the index of refraction of photosensitive
surfaces of the ~SbCs-type lies around 2, the Fresnel losses
at the fiber-photocathode interface are about 0.5 percent and the
**f factor for the interstage coupler is 0.95. It might be anticipated
that multiple coatings will reduce end reflection losses even further.

The internal losses are due to absorption and the small but
finite losses suffered in the numerous internal reflections due to
deviations from the prescribed, cylindrical fiber cross-section and minute
imperfections of the core-jacket interface. These losses depend
on fiber diameter and length, absorption coefficient, the mean value of
the loss per internal reflection and last but not least, on the angular
distribution of the incident light. Explicit expressions (integral
averages) are given in the literature. Lacking reliable data for some
of the variables, we are relying on experimental data of about 20 percent
internal losses for 1/4-inch long, small (5-10~|m) diameter
fibers. This relatively high value is probably due to the small fiber
diameters increasing the number of internal reflections. Since we are
considering here relatively small diameter (1-1.5 inches) fiber plates,
their average thickness can be kept below 1/4 inch and their internal
losses may be assumed as 15 percent (per plate). The packing
efficiency, F&R&, of fiber plates did not receive much attention
in the literature, probably as it is high for the larger fibers generally
used, until rather recently. For circular fibers in a closely
packed hexagonal array, the packing efficiency is given by: **f where
**f, and 0.906 is the ratio of the area of a circle to that of the
circumscribed hexagon. For the small diameter fibers now technically
feasible and required for about 100 **f resolution, **f. The cladding
thickness is about 0.5~|m, hence, **f and **f. Thus,
the efficiency ~|t couplers is given by- **f or approximately
50 percent each. It must be remembered that the fiber plates replace
a glass window and a (mica) membrane, in addition to an optical
output lens system. The efficiency **f of an **f lens at the magnification
**f is: **f Neglecting absorption, the end losses of the coupling
membrane and the output window **f would be 6 percent and 8 percent.
Thus, the combined efficiency of the elements replaced by the two
fiber plates (with a combined efficiency of 0.25) is 0.043 or <about
six times less than that of the two fiber plates>. _GAIN OF FIBER
COUPLED IMAGE INTENSIFIERS_ Including the brightness gain **f due
to the **f area demagnification, the overall gain of a fiber coupled double
stage image intensifier is: **f It is obvious that the careful
choice of photocathode which maximizes **f for a given input ~<E>
(in the case of the second stage, for the first phosphor screen emission)
is very important. The same consideration should govern the choice
of the second-stage phosphor screen for matching with the spectral
sensitivity of the ultimate sensor (e&g&, photographic emulsion).

We have evaluated the "matching integrals" for two types

of photocathodes (~S-11 and ~S-20) and three types of light input.
The input light distributions considered are ~P-11 and ~P-20
phosphor emission and the so-called "night light" (N&L&)
as given by H&W& Babcock and J& J& Johnson. The integrals
(in @ units) are listed in table 14-/1, below:

#THEORETICAL
DISCUSSION OF PARAXIAL DEVICE RESOLUTION#

_RESOLUTION LIMITATIONS
IN A SINGLE STAGE_ The resolution limitations for a single stage are
given by the inherent resolution of the electron optical system as
well as the resolution capabilities of the cathodoluminescent viewing
screen. The resolution capabilities of an electrostatic system
depend on both the choice of magnification and chromatic aberrations.
It has been stated previously that a minifying electrostatic system yields
a lower resolution than a magnifying system or a system with unity
magnification. Furthermore, the chromatic aberrations depend
on the chosen high voltage. In general, a high anode voltage reduces
chromatic aberrations and thus increases the obtainable resolution.

The luminous gain of the discussed tube was calculated from Eq&
(6) for the 16 possible combinations of ~S-11 and ~S-20 photocathodes
and ~P-11 and ~P-20 phosphor screens, for night light
and ~P-20 light input. (The ~P-20 input is of interest because
it corresponds roughly to the light emission of conventional X-ray
fluorescent screens). The following efficiencies obtained from ~JEDEC
and ~RCA specifications were used: **f The following
table (14-/2,) lists the (luminous) gain values computed according
to Eq& (6) with **f: The possibility of a space charge
blowup of the screen crossover of the elementary electron bundles has
been pointed out. It is obvious that such an influence can only be
expected in the final stage of an image intensifier at rather high output
levels. Space charge influences will also decrease at increased
voltages. Electrostatic systems of the pseudo-symmetric type have
been tested for resolution capabilities by applying electronography.
A resolution of 70-80 line-pairs per millimeter appears to be feasible.

The inherent resolution of a cathodoluminescent phosphor

screen decreases with increasingly aggregate thickness (with increasing
anode voltage), decreases with decreasing porosity (thus the advantage
of cathodophoretic phosphor deposition) and might be impaired by the
normally used aluminum mirror. Thus, in general, elementary light
optical effects, light scatter, and electron scatter determine the obtainable
resolution limit. It should be noted that photoluminescence,
due to "Bremsstrahlung" generated within the viewing screen by electron
impact, appears to be important only if anode voltages in excess
of 30 ~KV are utilized. It has been stated that settled cathodoluminescent
phosphor screens may have a limiting resolution of 60 **f
at high voltage values of approximately 20 ~KV. For the further discussion,
we shall thus assume an electron optical resolution of 80 **f
and phosphor screen resolution of 60 **f.
The set of all decisions is called the operating policy or, more simply,
the policy. An optimal policy is one which in some sense gets the
best out of the process as a whole by maximizing the value of the product.
There are thus three components to an optimal design problem:
_(1)_ The specification of the state of the process stream; _(2)_
The specification of the operating variables and the transformation
they effect; _(3)_ The specification of the objective function
of which the optimization is desired. For a chemical process
the
first of these might involve the concentrations of the different chemical
species, and the temperature or pressure of the stream. For the
second we might have to choose the volume of reactor or amount of cooling
to be supplied; the way in which the transformation of state depends
on the operating variables for the main types of reactors is discussed
in the next chapter. The objective function is some measure of
the increase in value of the stream by processing; it is the subject
of Chapter 4. The essential characteristic of an optimal policy
when the state of the stream is transformed in a sequence of stages
with no feedback was first isolated by Bellman. He recognized that
whatever transformation may be effected in the first stage of an ~<R>-stage
process, the remaining stages must use an optimal **f-stage policy
with respect to the state resulting from the first stage, if there
is to be any chance of optimizing the complete process. Moreover, by
systematically varying the operating conditions in the first stage and
always using the optimal **f-stage policy for the remaining stages,
we shall eventually find the optimal policy for all ~R stages. Proceeding
in this way, from one to two and from two to three stages, we
may gradually build up the policy for any number. At each step of the
calculation the operating variables of only one stage need be varied.

To see how important this economy is, let us suppose that there
are ~<m> operating variables at each stage and that the state
is specified by ~<n> variables; then the search for the maximum
at any one stage will require a number of operations of order **f (where
~<a> is some number not unreasonably large). To proceed from
one stage to the next a sufficient number of feed states must be investigated
to allow of interpolation; this number will be of the order
of **f. If, however, we are seeking the optimal ~<R>-stage policy
for a given feed state, only one search for a maximum is required at
the final step. Thus a number of operations of the order of **f are
required. If all the operating variables were varied simultaneously,
**f operations would be required to do the same job, and as ~<R>
increases this increases very much more rapidly than the number of operations
required by the dynamic program. But even more important than
this is the fact that the direct search by simultaneously varying all
operating conditions has produced only one optimal policy, namely, that
for the given feed state and ~<R> stages. In contrast, the dynamic
program produces this policy and a whole family of policies for
any smaller number of stages. If the problem is enlarged to require
a complete coverage of feed states, **f operations are needed by the dynamic
program and **f by the direct search. But **f is vastly larger
than ~<R>. No optimism is more baseless than that which believes
that the high speed of modern digital computers allows for use of the
crudest of methods in searching out a result. Suppose that **f, and
that the average operation requires only **f sec&. Then the dynamic
program would require about a minute whereas the direct search would
take
more than three millennia! The principle of optimality thus
brings a vital organization into the search for the optimal policy of
a multistage decision process. Bellman (1957) has annunciated in the
following terms: "An optimal policy has the property that
whatever the initial state and initial decision are, the remaining decisions
must constitute an optimal policy with respect to the state resulting
from the first decision". This is the principle which
we will invoke in every case to set up a functional equation. It appears
in a form that is admirably suited to the powers of the digital
computer. At the same time, every device that can be employed to reduce
the number of variables is of the greatest value, and it is one of
the attractive features of dynamic programming that room is left for
ingenuity in using the special features of the problem to this end.

#2.2
THE DISCRETE DETERMINISTIC PROCESS#

Consider the process illustrated

in Fig& 2.1, consisting of ~<R> distinct stages. These
will be numbered in the direction opposite to the flow of the process
stream, so that stage ~<r> is the ~<r>th stage from the end.
Let the state of the stream leaving stage ~<r> be denoted by a vector
**f and the operating variables of stage ~<r> by **f. Thus
**f denotes the state of the feed to the ~<R>-stage process, and
**f the state of the product from the last stage. Each stage transforms
the state **f of its feed to the state **f in a way that depends on
the operating variables **f. We write this **f. This transformation
is uniquely determined by **f and we therefore speak of the process
as deterministic. In practical situations there will be restrictions
on the admissible operating conditions, and we regard the vectors as belonging
to a fixed and bounded set ~<S>. The set of vectors **f
constitutes the operating policy or, more briefly, the policy, and a
policy is admissible if all the **f belong to ~<S>. When the policy
has been chosen the state of the product can be obtained from the
state of the feed by repeated application of the transformation (1);
thus **f. The objective function, which is to be maximized, is some
function, usually piecewise continuous, of the product state. Let this
be denoted by **f. An optimal policy is an admissible policy
**f which maximizes the objective function ~<P>. The policy may
not be unique but the maximum value of ~<P> certainly is, and once
the policy is specified this maximum can be calculated by (2) and (3)
as a function of the feed state **f. Let **f where the maximization
is over all admissible policies **f. When it is necessary to be specific
we say that the optimal policy is an optimal ~<R>-stage policy
with respect to the feed state **f. For any choice of admissible
policy **f in the first stage, the state of the stream leaving
this stage is given by **f. This is the feed state of the subsequent
**f stages which, according to the principle of optimality, must use an
optimal **f-stage policy with respect to this state. This will result
in a value **f of the objective function, and when **f is chosen correctly
this will give **f, the maximum of the objective function. Thus
**f
where the maximization is over all admissible policies **f, and **f
is related to **f by (5). The sequence of equations (6) can be solved
for **f when **f is known, and clearly **f, the maximization being
over all admissible **f. The set of equations (5), (6), and the
starting equation (7) is of a recursive type well suited to programming
on the digital computer. In finding the optimal ~<R>-stage policy
from that of **f stages, only the function **f is needed. When
**f has been found it may be transferred into the storage location of
**f and the whole calculation repeated. We also see how the results
may be presented, although if ~<n>, the number of state variables,
is large any tabulation will become cumbersome. A table or set of tables
may be set out as in Table 2.1. To extract the optimal
~<R>-stage policy with respect to the feed state **f, we enter section
~<R> of this table at the state **f and find immediately
from the last column the maximum value of the objective function. In
the third column is given the optimal policy for stage ~<R>, and
in the fourth, the resulting state of the stream when this policy is used.
Since by the principle of optimality the remaining stages use an
optimal **f-stage policy with respect to **f, we may enter section **f
of the table at this state **f and read off the optimal policy for stage
**f and the resulting state **f. Proceeding in this way up the table
we extract the complete optimal policy and, if it is desired, we
can check on **f by evaluating **f at the last stage. It may be
that the objective function depends not only on **f but also on **f,
as when the cost of the operating policy is considered. A moment's
reflection shows that the above algorithm and presentation work equally
well in this case. A form of objective function that we shall often
have occasion to consider is **f. Here ~<V>({p}) represents
the
value of the stream in state ~{p} and ~<C>({q}) the cost
of operating the stage with conditions ~{q}. Hence ~<P>
is the increase in value of the stream minus the cost of operation, that
is, the net profit. If **f denotes the net profit from stage ~<r>
and **f then the principle of optimality gives **f This sequence
of equations may be started with the remark that with no process **f there
is no profit, i&e&, **f.

#2.3 THE DISCRETE STOCHASTIC PROCESS#

The process in which the outcome of any one stage is known only
statistically is also of interest, although for chemical reactor design
it is not as important as the deterministic process. In this case
the stage ~<r> operating with conditions **f transforms the state
of the stream from **f to **f, but only the probability distribution of
**f is known. This is specified by a distribution function **f such
that the probability that **f lies in some region ~<D> of the stage
space is **f. We cannot now speak of maximizing the value
of the objective function, since this function is now known only in a
probabilistic sense. We can, however, maximize its expected value. For
a single stage we may define **f where the maximization is by choice
of **f. We thus have an optimal policy which maximizes the expected
value of the objective function for a given **f. If we consider a process
in which the outcome of one stage is known before passage to the
next, then the principle of optimality shows that the policy in subsequent
stages should be optimal with respect to the outcome of the first.
Then **f, the maximization being over all admissible **f and the integration
over the whole of stage space. The type of presentation
of results used in the deterministic process may be used here, except
that now the fourth column is redundant. The third column gives
the optimal policy, but we must wait to see the outcome of stage ~<R>
and enter the preceding section of the table at this state. The
discussion of the optimal policy when the outcome of one stage is not
known before passing to the next is a very much more difficult matter.

#2.4 THE CONTINUOUS DETERMINISTIC PROCESS#

In many cases it is not

possible to divide the process into a finite number of discrete stages,
since the state of the stream is transformed in a continuous manner
through the process. We replace ~<r>, the number of the stage
from the end of the process, by ~<t>, a continuous variable which
measures the "distance" of the point considered from the end of the
process. The word <distance> is used here in a rather general sense;
it may in fact be the time that will elapse before the end of the
process. If ~<T> is the total "length" of the process, its
feed state may be denoted by a vector ~{p}(<T>) and the product
state by ~{p}(O). ~{p}(<t>) denotes the state at
any point ~<t> and ~{q}(<t>) the vector of operating variables
there.

A gyro-stabilized platform system, using restrained gyros, is

well suited for automatic leveling because of the characteristics of the
gyro-platform-servo combination. The restrained gyro-stabilized platform
with reasonable response characteristics operates with an approximate
equation of motion, neglecting transient effects, as follows:
**f where ~<U> is a torque applied about the output axis of the
controlling gyro. The platform angle ~|f is the angle about
which the gyro is controlling. This is normally termed the gyro input
axis, 90` away from the gyro output or ~|j axis. The gyro angular
momentum is defined by ~<H>. Thus if the gyro and platform-controller
combination maintains the platform with zero angular
deviation about the ~|f axis, the system can be rotated with an
angular velocity **f if a torque is supplied to the gyro output axis ~|j.
It is assumed that the gyros are designed with electrical torquers
so that a torque can be applied about their output axes.
In the system shown in Fig& 7-1, the accelerometer output is amplified
and the resulting voltage is applied to the gyro output-axis torquer.
This torque causes the entire system to rotate about the ~|f
axis, since the response to **f. If the polarities are correct, the
platform rotates in such a direction as to reduce the accelerometer output
to zero. As the accelerometer output is decreasing, the torque applied
to the gyro output axis decreases and, therefore, the rate decreases.
Finally, when the accelerometer output is zero, the entire system
remains stationary, and the platform is, by definition, leveled.

A mathematical block diagram for the leveling system is shown in

Fig& 7-2. The platform is initially off level by the angle ~|f.
The angle generated by the platform servo ~|f multiplied by ~<g>
is the effective acceleration acting on the accelerometer. **f
is the scale factor of the accelerometer (**f). The voltage **f is amplified
by **f and applied to the gyro torquer with scale factor **f.
Finally, the gyro-stabilized platform characteristic is represented
by **f The system as indicated in Fig& 7-2 is fundamental and simple
because the transient effects of both the platform servo and the
accelerometer have been neglected. With these factors included, an upper
limit is placed on the allowable loop gain by stability considerations.
In this type of system, a high loop gain is desirable because it
provides a fast response time. When the frequency response characteristics
of practical components are considered, their effect on
stability does not present the most serious limit on the system loop
gain. The time required for the system to reach a level position is approximately
inversely proportional to the servo loop gain. In addition,
the cutoff frequency for input accelerations is approximately proportional
to the servo loop gain; i&e&, high loop gain causes the
system to respond to horizontal components of accelerations. This problem
usually determines the lower limit of loop gain rather than response
time. It must be noticed in Fig& 7-1 that the accelerometer
responds to any input acceleration. The equation relating input
acceleration to output platform angle is **f In practice, the preflight
leveling process takes place with the system mounted in the airframe.
When the system is arranged for automatic leveling, the platform
angles respond to any horizontal components of acceleration acting on
the accelerometers. There are many such components of acceleration present
due to the effect of wind gusts, engine noise, turbulence around
the vehicle, etc&. One of the greatest problems associated with automatic
leveling is establishing a true level in the presence of high-level
acceleration noise. One solution to the problem is to operate
with a low loop gain and to include low-pass filters. This technique
causes the system to respond only to low frequency acceleration components
such as the platform tilt. Since a lower loop gain and low-pass filtering
increases the response time, a practical compromise must be reached.

One of the most desirable solutions is achieved by the

use of a non-linear amplifier for **f. The amplifier is designed so
that its gain is large for accelerometer signals above a certain threshold
level. Below this level, the amplifier gain **f is proportional
and is of small value, in order to provide adequate noise filtering. The
effect is that the platform returns from an off-level position at
a rapid rate until it is nearly level, at which point the platform is
controlled by a proportional servo with low enough frequency response
so that the noise has little effect on the leveling process. When
the system is on automatic leveling, the gyro drift is canceled by
the output of the leveling system (amplifier **f). The platform actually
tilts off level so that the accelerometer output, when amplified
by **f, will supply the correct current to the gyro torquer to cancel
the gyro drift. The amount of platform dip required depends upon the
scale factors of the system.

#7-3. PRACTICAL LEVELING

CONSIDERATIONS.#

The automatic leveling system described in this section is readily

adaptable to a gyro-stabilized platform consisting of three integrating
gyros. The system requires some switching of flight equipment circuits.
However, the leveling operation can be maintained and controlled
remotely with no mechanical or optical contact with the platform.

This leveling system will hold the platform on-level, automatically,

as long as the system is actuated. A useful by-product of this
system is that the information necessary to set the gyro drift biases
is available from the currents necessary to hold the system in level.

The leveling process can be accomplished manually, and the results

are as satisfactory as those obtained with automatic equipment. The
process consists in turning the platform manually until the outputs
of both accelerometers are zero. The turning is accomplished by applying
voltage to the gyro torquers described above. In brief, the human
replaces amplifier **f in Figs& 7-1 and 7-2. Manual leveling
requires an appropriate display of the accelerometer outputs. If
high accuracy is required in preflight leveling, it is usually necessary
to integrate or doubly integrate the accelerometer outputs (this also
minimizes the noise problem). With integration, the effect of a small
acceleration (or small platform tilt angle) can be seen after a time.
However, skill is required on the part of an operator to level a
platform to any degree of accuracy. Also, it requires more time as
compared to the automatic approach. Manual leveling is inconvenient
if the platform must be maintained accurately level for any prolonged
period of time. The operator must continually supply the correct
amount of turning current to the gyro torquers so that the effect of
gyro drift is canceled. This process is especially difficult since gyro
drifting is typically random.

#7-4. PLATFORM HEADING.#

Platform
heading consists of orienting the sensitive axis of the accelerometers
parallel to the desired coordinate system of the navigator. In simpler
terms, it amounts to pointing the platform in the proper direction.

For purely inertial navigators, two techniques are available

to accomplish the platform heading: _1._ Use of external or
surveying equipment to establish proper heading. _2._ Use of the
characteristics of the platform components for an indication of true
heading The choice of the heading technique is dependent upon the accuracy
requirements, field conditions, and the time available to accomplish
the heading.

#7-5. EXTERNAL DETERMINATION OF HEADING- SURVEYING

TECHNIQUE.#

With the gyro-stabilized platform leveled, it can be

headed in the proper direction by using surveying techniques. The platform
accelerometers must be slightly modified for this procedure. Before
the accelerometers are mounted on the platform, the direction of
their sensitive axis must be accurately determined. A mirror is mounted
on each accelerometer so that the plane of the mirror is perpendicular
to the sensitive axis of the unit. _TRANSIT._ A precision transit
is set up so that it is aligned with respect to true north. This
can be done to a high degree of accuracy by existing surveying techniques.
With the transit set up, a mirror on one of the accelerometers
is sighted and the platform is turned until it is aligned. The
sighting procedure includes the use of a fixture for the transit to
project a beam of light, which is darkened by crossed hairs, on the accelerometer
mirror. When the platform is aligned, the reflected image
of the crossed hairs can be seen exactly superimposed upon the original
crossed hairs. The images can easily be aligned with a high degree
of accuracy. The platform is turned as required by supplying currents
to the appropriate gyro torquers. Although this technique is
simple and satisfactory, one practical difficulty does exist: the direction
of true north must be known for each launch point. However,
this difficulty is not too serious if it is realized that a surveying
team can establish a true north base line with a few days' work.

In many installations, the inertial platform is raised off the ground

a considerable height when it is mounted in the vehicle before flight.
With this situation, it is difficult to sight in on the platform with
surveying equipment.
If the platform is not too high off the ground,
a transit can be mounted on a stand to raise it up to the platform.
Obviously, the heading accuracy is lessened by such techniques since
errors are introduced because of motion of the stand. _AUTOCOLLIMATOR._
The transit can be replaced by an autocollimator. This instrument
provides an electrical signal proportional to the angular deviations
of the platform and can be used to automatically hold the platform
on true heading. The electrical signal from the autocollimator is amplified
and supplied to the ~<Z>-gyro torquer. If the polarity is
correct, the platform will turn until the heading error angle is zero.
Information is also available from this autocollimator system to set
the drift bias for the ~<Z>-axis gyro. If the ~<Z> gyro
is drifting, a current generated by the autocollimator is delivered to
the gyro torquer to cancel the drift. If the drift error is systematic,
it can be canceled with a bias circuit which can be arranged and adjusted
to supply the required compensating current. _ELECTRICAL PICKOFFS._
It is possible to locate an angular electrical pickoff, which
will indicate the angular deviation between the true heading direction
and the platform. Essentially, the stator or reference portion of
the pickoff is established with respect to the true heading direction,
and the platform is turned either manually or automatically until the
angular electrical pickoff signal is reduced to zero.

#7-6. GYROCOMPASS
HEADING.#

Gyrocompass alignment is an automatic heading system

which depends upon the characteristic of one gyro to establish true
heading. For the case of a purely inertial autonavigator consisting of
three restrained gyros, a coordinate system is used where the sensitive
axis of the ~<X> accelerometer is parallel to the east-west direction
at the base point, and the ~<Y> accelerometer sensitive
axis is parallel to the north-south direction at the base point. The
accelerometers are mounted rigidly on the platform. Thus, if one accelerometer
is properly aligned, the other is also. The input axis of the
appropriate gyros are parallel to the sensitive direction of the accelerometers.

Figure 7-3 shows a platform system with the gyro

vectors arranged as described above. The platform is leveled and properly
headed, so that the ~<X>-gyro input axis is parallel to the
east-west direction and the ~<Y>-gyro input axis is parallel to
the north-south direction. The input axis of the ~<X> gyro,
when pointing in the east-west direction, is always perpendicular to
the spin axis of earth. If the platform is not properly headed, the
~<X>-gyro input axis will see a component of the earth's rotation.
The sensing of this rotation by the ~<X> gyro can be utilized
to direct the platform into proper heading. In Fig& 7-4,
the input axis of the three-axis platform is shown at some point on the
earth. The point is at a latitude ~|l, and the platform is at
an error in heading east. The earth is spinning at an angular velocity
~\q equal to one revolution per 24 hr&. When the platform is
level, ~|e is a rotation about the ~<Z> axis of the platform
**f. Since the earth is rotating and the unleveled gyro-stabilized platform
is fixed with respect to a reference in space, an observer on
the earth will see the platform rotating (with respect to the earth).

#THIRTY-THREE#

SCOTTY did not go back to school. His parents

talked seriously and lengthily to their own doctor and to a specialist
at the University Hospital- Mr& McKinley was entitled to a
discount for members of his family- and it was decided it would be
best for him to take the remainder of the term off, spend a lot of time
in bed and, for the rest, do pretty much as he chose- provided, of
course, he chose to do nothing too exciting or too debilitating. His
teacher and his school principal were conferred with and everyone agreed
that, if he kept up with a certain amount of work at home, there was
little danger of his losing a term. Scotty accepted the decision
with indifference and did not enter the arguments. He was
discharged from the hospital after a two-day checkup and he and his
parents had what Mr& McKinley described as a "celebration lunch"
at the cafeteria on the campus. Rachel wore a smart hat and, because
she had been warned recently about smoking, puffed at her cigarettes
through a long ivory holder stained with lipstick. Scotty's father
sat sprawled in his chair, angular, alert as a cricket, looking about
at the huge stainless-steel appointments of the room with an expression
of proprietorship. Teachers- men who wore brown suits and
had gray hair and pleasant smiles- came to their table to talk shop
and to be introduced to Scotty and Rachel. Rachel was polite, Scotty
indifferent. They ate the cafeteria food with its orange sauces
and Scotty gazed without interest at his food, the teachers, the heroic
baronial windows, and the bright ranks of college banners. His father
tried to make the food a topic. "The blueberry pie is good,
Scotty. I recommend it". He looked at his son, his face worried.
Scotty murmured, "No, thanks", so softly his father had to
bend his gaunt height across the table and turn a round brown ear to him.
Scotty regarded the ear and the grizzled hair around it with a moment
of interest. He said more loudly, "I'm full, old Pop". He
had eaten almost nothing on the crested, three-sectioned plate and
had drunk about half the milk in its paper container. "He's
all right, Craig", Rachel said. "I can fix him something later
in the afternoon when we get home". Since his seizure, Scotty
had had little appetite; yet his changed appearance, surprisingly,
was one of plumpness. His face was fuller; his lips and the usually
sharp lines of his jaw had become swollen-looking. He breathed now
with his mouth open, showing a whitely curving section of lower teeth;
he kept his eyes, with their puffed blurred lids, always lowered,
though not, apparently, focusing. Even his neck seemed thicker and
therefore shorter. His hands, which had been as quick as a pair of fluttering
birds, were now neither active nor really relaxed. They lay
on his lap, palms up, stiffly motionless, the tapered fingers a little
thick at the joints. Altogether he had, since the seizure, the appearance
of a boy who overindulged in food and took no exercise. He looked
lazy, spoiled, a little querulous. Rachel had little to say.
She greeted her husband's colleagues with smiling politeness, offering
nothing. Mr& McKinley, for all his sprawling and his easy familiarity,
was completely alert to his son, eyes always on the still
face, jumping to anticipate Scotty's desires. It was a strained, silent
lunch. Rachel said, "I'd better get him to bed".

The doctors had suggested Scotty remain most of every afternoon

in bed until he was stronger. Since Mr& McKinley had to
give a lecture, Rachel and Scotty drove home alone in the Plymouth.
They did not speak much. Scotty gazed out at ugly gray slums and
said softly, "Look at those stupid kids". It was a Negro section
of peeling row houses, store-front churches and ragged children. Rachel
had to bend toward Scotty and ask him to repeat. He said, "Nothing".
And then: "There are lots of kids around here".

Scotty looked at the children, his mouth slightly opened, his eyes
dull. He felt tired and full and calm.

#THIRTY-FOUR#

THE
days seemed short, perhaps because his routine was, each day, almost
the same. He rose late and went down in his bathrobe and slippers to
have breakfast either alone or with Rachel. Virginia treated him with
attention and tried to tempt his appetite with special food: biscuits,
cookies, candies- the result of devoted hours in the tiled kitchen.
She would hover over him and, looking like her brother, anxiously
watch the progress of Scotty's fork or spoon. "You don't
eat enough, honey. Try to get that down". Rachel, observing,
would say, "He has to rediscover his own capacity. It'll
take time". Virginia and Rachel talked to each other quietly
now, as allies who are political rather than natural might in a war
atmosphere. Both watched Scotty constantly, Rachel without seeming
to, Virginia openly, her eyes filled with concern. Scotty was neutral.
He did not resent their supervision or Virginia's sometimes tiring
sympathy. He ate what he felt like, slept as much or as little as
he pleased, and moved about the draughty rooms of the house, when he
was not in bed, with slow dubious steps, like an elderly tourist in a
cathedral. His energy was gone. He was able, now, to sit for hours
in a chair in the living room and stare out at the bleak yard without
moving. His hands lay loosely, yet stiffly- they were like wax hands:
almost lifelike, not quite- folded in his lap; his mouth hung
slightly open. When he was asked a question or addressed in such a way
that some response was inescapable, he would answer; if, as often
happened, he had to repeat because he had spoken too softly, he would
repeat his words in the same way, without emphasis or impatience, only
a little louder. He had not mentioned Kate. He had not even
thought about her much except once or twice at night in bed when his
slowly ranging thoughts would abruptly, almost accidentally, encounter
her. At these times he felt a kind of pain in his upper chest, but
it was an objective pain, in no way different from others in intensity
and not different in kind; it was like the bandaged wound on the back
of his head which occasionally throbbed; it was merely another part
of his weakness. He was calm, drugged, and lazy. He did not care.

Rachel mentioned Kate. She said, "I notice the girl from
across the street hasn't bothered to phone or visit". Scotty
said, "That's all right. Kate's all right". He thought
about it briefly, then deliberately turned the talk to something else.

Once, sitting at the front window in his parents' room, he

saw Kate come out of her house. She was with Elizabeth. They were
far off and looked tiny. The heavy branches in his front yard would hide
and then reveal them. They turned at the bottom of Kate's steps
and moved off in the direction of the park. He thought he saw- it
awakened and, for a moment, interested him- that Elizabeth held a
leash in her hand and that a round fuzzy puppy was on the end of the leash.
Then they disappeared and Scotty got up and went into his own
room and got into bed. By the time he was under the covers he had forgotten
about seeing Kate. The doctor, since Scotty was no longer
allowed to make his regular trips into town to see him, came often
and informally to the house. He would sit, slim-waisted and spare,
on the edge of Scotty's bed, his legs crossed so elaborately that the
crossed foot could tap the floor. Scotty did not mind the doctor's
unsmiling teasing as he used to. "Husky young man", he
said with mock distaste. "I imagine you're always battling in school".

"I don't go to school any more". "Pardon"?

The doctor had to bend close to hear; his delicate hand, as
veined as a moth's wing, rested absently on Scotty's chest. Scotty
said the same words more loudly. "Oh. Well, we're taking a
little vacation, that's all". He turned unsmilingly to Rachel. "I
think by the end of next week he could get out in the air a little.
He could now but the weakness is very definite; it would exhaust
him further and unnecessarily. He'll be stronger soon". His stethoscope
was on the table by Scotty's bed and he picked it up and wagged
it at Scotty. He said fussily, "Just keep the cap on those
strong emotions". The stethoscope glinted silver in the darkening room.
"I'll drop by again in a few days". Rachel stayed
on after the doctor had gone. She smoothed the covers on Scotty's
bed and picked things up from the floor. She did not touch him. Scotty
watched with disinterest. He did not speak. He had no desire to.

She said, "Do you think you'll miss school"? He

had noticed how formal and irritably exact Rachel had grown. He did
not care. He felt her irritability did not concern him, yet he knew
he would not care even if it did. He shook his head. "We've
had any number of calls about you. You could win a popularity contest
at that school without any trouble. Miss Estherson called twice.
She wants to pay you a visit. She says the children miss you. Apparently
you were the light of their lives". Scotty shrugged
slightly. Rachel came close to the bed, bent as if she would kiss him,
then moved away. She was frowning. "That doctor annoys me". She
seemed to speak to herself. "Do you suppose his self-consciousness
is characteristic of the new Negro professionals or merely of doctors
in general"? She turned to him again. "Well, Mrs&
Charles- Sally- has phoned too. She was very worried". Rachel's
tone was dry. "She didn't really say"- She glanced
away at the floor, then swooped gracefully and picked up one of Scotty's
slippers. "I mean, do you feel like seeing Kate"?

Scotty said, "I don't know". It was true. He did not. There
was the slight pain, but it was no different from the throbbing in
his head. "Well, there's time, in any case. We'll wait
till you're stronger and then talk about it". She put the slipper
neatly
by its mate at the foot of the bed. Scotty said, "Okay".

This time Rachel kissed him lightly on the forehead. Scotty

was pleased. His father was a constant visitor. Scotty
would hear the front door in the evening and then his father's deep
slow voice; it floated up the stairs. "How's Scotty"?

And Rachel's or Virginia's reply: "Better. He's

getting plenty of rest". "Is his appetite improved"?
Or: "Does he get exercise"? The exchange was almost
invariable, and Scotty, in his bed, could hear every word of it. He
never smiled. It required an energy he no longer possessed to be satirical
about his father. His father would come upstairs and stand self-consciously
at the foot of the bed and look at his son. After a pause,
during which he studied Scotty's face as if Scotty were not there
and could not study him too, Mr& McKinley would ask the same
questions he had asked downstairs. Scotty would reply softly and
his father, apologetically, would ask him to repeat. "I'm
eating more", he would say. Or: "I walk around the house a
lot". "Perhaps you should get out a little". "I'm
not supposed to yet". He was not irritated. He did not mind
the useless, kindly questions. He looked at the lined face with vague
interest; he felt he was noting it, as if it were something he might
think about when he grew stronger. Mr& McKinley examined
everything with critical care, seeking something material to blame for
his son's illness. "Have you got enough blankets"? And
another time, without accusation: "You never wore that scarf
I bought you".
Where their sharp edges seemed restless as sea waves thrusting themselves
upward in angry motion, Papa-san sat glacier-like, his smooth solidity,
his very immobility defying all the turmoil about him. "Our
objective", the colonel had said that day of the briefing, "is Papa-san".
There the objective sat, brooding over all. Gouge, burn,
blast, insult it as they would, could anyone really take Papa-san?

Between the ponderous hulk and himself, in the valley over which
Papa-san reigned, men had hidden high explosives, booby traps, and
mines. The raped valley was a pregnant womb awaiting abortion. On
the forward slope in front of his own post stretched two rows of barbed
wire. At the slope's base coils of concertina stretched out of eye
range like a wild tangle of children's hoops, stopped simultaneously,
weirdly poised as if awaiting the magic of the child's touch to
start them all rolling again. Closer still, regular barricades of barbed
wire hung on timber supports. Was it all vain labor? Who would
clean up the mess when the war was over? Smiling at his quixotic
thoughts, Warren turned back from the opening and lit a cigarette before
sitting down. Tonight a group of men, tomorrow night he himself,
would go out there somewhere and wait. If he were to go with White,
he would be out there two days, not just listening in the dark at some
point between here and Papa-san, but moving ever deeper into enemy
land- behind Papa-san itself. Was this what he had expected? He
hadn't realized that there would be so much time to think, so many
lulls. Somehow he had forgotten what he must have been told, that combat
was an intermittent activity. Now he knew that the moment illuminated
by the vision on the train would have to be approached. It could
take place tomorrow night, or it might occur months from now. There
was just too much time. Time to become afraid. White's suggestion
flattered, but he did not like the identity. He did not spill over with
hatred for the enemy. He hadn't even seen him yet **h Pressing
his cigarette out in the earth, Warren walked to the slit and
scanned the jagged hills. He saw no life, but still stood there for
a time peering at the unlovely hills, his gaze continually returning to
Papa-san. He had come here in order to test himself. While most of
his beliefs were still unsettled, he knew that he did not believe in
killing. Yet, he was here. He had come because he could not live out
his life feeling that he had been a coward. ##

There were ten men

on the patrol which Sergeant Prevot led out that next night. The
beaming ~ROK was carrying a thirty-caliber machine gun; another
man lugged the tripod and a box of ammunition. Warren and White each
carried, in addition to their own weapons and ammo, a box of ammo for
the ~ROK's machine gun. Others carried extra clips for the
Browning Automatic Rifle, which was in the hands of a little Mexican
named Martinez. Prevot had briefed the two new men that afternoon.
"We just sit quiet and wait", Prevot had said. "Be sure the
man nearest you is awake. If Joe doesn't show up, we'll all be
back here at 0600 hours. Otherwise, we hold a reception. Then we pull
out under our mortar and artillery cover, but nobody pulls out until
I say so. Remember what I said about going out to get anybody left
behind? That still holds. We bring back all dead and wounded".

At 2130 hours they had passed through the barbed wire at the
point of departure. Then began the journey through their own mine fields.
Mines. Ours were kinder than theirs, some said. They set bouncing
betties to jump and explode at testicle level while we more mercifully
had them go off at the head. Mines. Big ones and little. The crude
wooden boxes of the enemy, our nicely turned gray metal disks. But
theirs defied the detectors. Mines. A foot misplaced, a leg missing.
Mines. All sizes: big ones, some wired to set off a whole field,
little ones, hand grenade size. Booby traps to fill the head with
chunks of metal. Warren tried to shake off the jumble of his fears by
looking at the sky. It was dark. Prevot had said that the searchlights
would be bounced off the clouds at 2230 hours, "which gives us time
to get settled in position". Because they were new men and
to be sure that they didn't get lost, Prevot had placed Warren
and White in the center of the patrol as it filed out. His eyes now
fixed on White's solid figure, Warren could hear behind him the tread
of another. He could also hear the stream which he had seen from
his position. They were going to follow it for part of their journey.
"It's safe", Prevot had said, "and it provides cover for our
noise". Soon they were picking their way along the edge of
the stream which glowed in the night. On their right rose the embankment
covered with brush and trees. If a branch extended out too far,
each man held it back for the next, and if they met a low overhang, each
warned the other. Thus, stealthily they advanced upstream; then
they turned to the right, climbed the embankment, and walked into the
valley again. There was no cover here, only grass sighing against
pant-legs. And with each sigh, like a whip in the hand of an expert,
the grass stripped something from Warren. The gentle whir of each footstep
left him more naked than before, until he felt his unprotected
flesh tremble, chilled by each new sound. The shapes of the men ahead
of him lacked solidity, as if the whip had stripped them of their very
flesh. The dark forms moved like mourners on some nocturnal pilgrimage,
their dirge unsung for want of vocal chords. The warped, broken
trees in the valley assumed wraith-like shapes. Clumps of brush that
they passed were so many enchained demons straining
in anger to tear and gnaw on his bones. Looming over all, Papa-san
leered down at him, threatening a hundred hidden malevolencies. Off in
the distance a searchlight flashed on, its beam slashing the sky. The
sharp ray was absorbed by a cloud, then reflected to the earth in a
softer, diffused radiance. Somewhere over there another patrol had need
of light. Warren thought of all the men out that night who, like
himself, had left their protective ridge and- fear working at their
guts- picked their way into the area beyond. From the east to the west
coast of the Korean peninsula was a strip of land in which fear-filled
men were at that same moment furtively crawling through the night,
sitting in sweaty anticipation of any movement or sound, or shouting
amidst confused rifle flashes and muzzle blasts. White's arm went
up and Warren raised his own. The patrol was stopping. Prevot
came up "Take that spot over there", he whispered, pointing to
a small clump of blackness. "Give me your machine gun ammo". Warren
handed him the metal box and Prevot quietly disappeared down the
line. Lying in the grass behind the brush clump, Warren looked
about. The others likewise had hidden themselves in the grass and
the brush. Over his shoulder he could see Prevot with the machine gun
crew. Even at this short distance they were only vague shapes, setting
up the machine gun on a small knoll so that it could fire above the
heads of the rest of the patrol. Warren eased his rifle's
safety off and gently, slowly sneaked another clip of ammunition from
one of the cloth bandoleers that marked the upper part of his body with
an ~X. This he placed within quick reach. The walk and his fears
had served to overheat him and his sweaty armpits cooled at the touch
of the night air. Although the armored vest fitted the upper part
of his body snugly, he felt no security. Figures seemed to crouch in
the surrounding dark; in the distance he saw a band of men who seemed
to advance and retreat even as he watched. Certain this menace was
only imaginary, he yet stared in fascinated horror, his hand sticky against
the stock of his weapon. He was aware of insistent inner beatings,
as if prisoners within sought release from his rigid body.
Above, the glowing ivory baton of their searchlight pointed at the clouds,
diluting the valley's dark to a pallid light. Then the figures
which held his attention became a group of shattered trees, standing
like the grotesques of a medieval damnation scene. Even so, he could
not ease the tension of his body; the rough surface of the earth itself
seemed to resist every attempt on his part to relax. Sensing the
unseen presence of the other men in the patrol, he felt mutely united
to these nine near-strangers sharing this pinpoint of being with him.
He sensed something precious in the perilous moment, something akin
to the knowledge gained on his bicycle trip through the French countryside,
a knowledge imprisoned in speechlessness. - In France
he had puzzled the meaning of the great stone monuments men had thrown
up to the sky, and always as he wandered, he felt a stranger to their
exultation. They were poems in a strange language, of which he could
barely touch a meaning- enough to make his being ache with the desire
for the fullness he sensed there. Brittany, that stone-gray mystery
through which he traveled for thirty days, sleeping in the barns of
farmers or alongside roads, had worked some subtle change in him, he
knew, and it was in Brittany that he had met Pierre. Pierre
had no hands; they had been severed at the wrists. With leather cups
fitted in his handlebars, he steered his bicycle. He and Warren had
traveled together for four days. They visited the shipyards at Brest
and Pierre had to sign the register, vouching for the integrity of
the visiting foreigner. He took the pen in his stumps and began to
write. "Wait! Wait"! cried the guard who ran from the
hut to shout to other men standing about outside. They crowded the small
room and peered over one another's shoulders to watch the handless
man write his name in the book. "C'est formidable",
they exclaimed. "Mais, oui. C'est merveilleux".
And then the questions came, eager, interested questions, and many compliments
on his having overcome his infirmity. "Doesn't it
ever bother you", Warren had asked, "to have people always asking
you about your hands"? "Oh, the French are a very curious
people", Pierre had laughed. "They are also honest seekers
after truth. Now the English are painfully silent about my missing
hands. They refuse to mention or to notice that they are not there. The
Americans, like yourself, take the fact for granted, try to be helpful,
but don't ask questions. I'm used to all three, but I think
the French have the healthiest attitude". That was the day
that Pierre had told Warren about the Abbey of Solesmes. "You
are looking tired and there you can rest. It will be good for you.
I think, too", he said, his dark eyes mischievous, "that you will
find there some clue to the secret of the cathedrals about which you
have spoken". Within two weeks Warren was ringing the bell
at the abbey gate. The monk who opened the door immediately calmed his
worries about his reception: "I speak English", the old man
said, "but I do not hear it very well". He smiled and stuck a large
finger with white hairs sprouting on it into his ear as though that
might help. Smiling at Warren's protestations, the old monk took
his grip from him and led him down a corridor to a small parlor. "Will
you please wait in here.
MICKIE SAT over his second whisky-on-the-rocks in a little bar next
to the funeral parlor on Pennsylvania Avenue. Al's Little Cafe
was small, dark, narrow, and filled with the mingled scent of beer,
tobacco smoke, and Italian cooking. Hanging over the bar was an oil
painting of a nude Al had accepted from a student at the Corcoran
Gallery who needed to eat and drink and was broke. The nude was small
and black-haired and elfin, and was called "Eloise". This
was one place where Moonan could go for a drink in a back booth without
anyone noticing him, or at least coming up and hanging around and
wanting to know all the low-down. The other patrons were taxi drivers
and art students and small shopkeepers. The reporters had not yet
discovered that this was his hideaway. His friend Jane was with
him. She was wise enough to realize a man could be good company even
if he did weigh too much and didn't own the mint. She was the widow
of a writer who had died in an airplane crash, and Mickie had found
her a job as head of the historical section of the Treasury. This
meant sorting out press clippings and the like. Jane sat receptive
and interested. Mickie had a pleasant glow as he said, "You see,
both of them, I mean the President and Jeff Lawrence, are romantics.
A romantic is one who thinks the world is divinely inspired and
all he has to do is find the right key, and then divine justice and
altruism will appear. It's like focusing a camera; the distant ship
isn't there until you get the focus. You know what I'm talking
about. I'm sure all girls feel this way about men until they live
with them. "But when it comes to war, the Colonel knows what
it is and Jeff doesn't. Mr& Christiansen knows that a soldier
will get the Distinguished Service Medal for conduct that would land
him in prison for life or the electric chair as a civilian. He had
a mean, unbroken sheer bastard in his outfit, and someone invented the
name Trig for him. That's to say, he was trigger happy. He'd
shoot at anything if it was the rear end of a horse or his own sentry.
He was a wiry, inscrutable, silent country boy from the red clay of
rural Alabama, and he spoke with the broad drawl that others normally
make fun of. But not in front of Trig. I heard of some that tried
it back in the States, and he'd knock them clear across the room.
There'd been a pretty bad incident back at the Marine base. A New
York kid, a refugee from one of the Harlem gangs, made fun of Trig's
accent, and drew a knife. Before the fight was over, the Harlem
boy had a concussion and Trig was cut up badly. They caught Trig
stealing liquor from the officers' mess, and he got a couple of girls
in trouble. The fear of punishment just didn't bother him. It wasn't
there. It was left out of him at birth. This is why he made such
a magnificent soldier. He wasn't troubled with the ordinary, rank-and-file
fear that overcomes and paralyzes and sends individual soldiers
and whole companies under fire running in panic. It just didn't
occur to Trig that anything serious would happen to him. Do you get
the picture of the kind of fellow he was"? Jane nodded
with a pleasant smile. "All right. There was a sniper's nest
in a mountain cave, and it was picking off our men with devilish accuracy.
The Colonel ordered that it be wiped out, and I suggested,
'You ask for volunteers, and promise each man on the patrol a quart
of whisky, ten dollars and a week-end pass to Davao'. Trig was
one of the five volunteers. The patrol snaked around in back of the cave,
approached it from above and dropped in suddenly with wild howls.
You could hear them from our outpost. There was a lot of shooting.
We knew the enemy was subdued, because a flare was fired as the signal.
So we hurried over. Two of our men were killed, a third was wounded.
Trig and a very black colored boy from Detroit had killed or put
out of action ten guerrillas by grenades and hand-to-hand fighting. When
we got there, Trig and the Negro were quarreling over possession
of a gold crucifix around the neck of a wounded Filipino. The colored
boy had it, and Trig lunged at him with a knife and said, 'Give
that to me, you black bastard. We don't 'low nigras to walk on
the same sidewalk with white men where I come from'. "The
Negro got a bad slice on his chest from the knife wound". "What
did the Colonel do about the men"? Jane asked in her placid,
interested way. Mickie laughed. "He recommended both of
them for the ~DSM and the Detroit fellow for the Purple Heart,
too, for a combat-inflicted wound. So you see Mr& Christiansen
knows what it's all about. But not Jeff Lawrence. When he was in
the war, he was in Law or Supplies or something like that, and an
old buddy of his told me he would come down on Sundays to the Pentagon
and read the citations for medals- just like the one we sent in for
Trig- and go away with a real glow. These were heroes nine feet
tall to him". ##

Jefferson Lawrence was alone at the small, perfectly

appointed table by the window looking out over the river. He
had dinner and sat there over his coffee watching the winding pattern
of traffic as it crossed the bridge and spread out like a serpent with
two heads. Open beside him was <Mrs& Dalloway>. He thought how
this dainty, fragile older woman threading her way through the streets
of Westminster on a day in June, enjoying the flowers in the shops,
the greetings from old friends, but never really drawing a deep, passionate
breath, was so like himself. He, and Mrs& Dalloway, too,
had never permitted themselves the luxury of joys that dug into the
bone marrow of the spirit. He had not because he was both poor
and ambitious. Poverty imposes a kind of chastity on the ambitious.
They cannot stop to grasp and embrace and sit in the back seat of cars
along a dark country lane. No, they must look the other way and climb
one more painful step up the ladder. He made the decision with his
eyes open, or so he thought. At any cost, he must leave the dreary Pennsylvania
mining town where his father was a pharmacist. And so he
had, so he had. At State College, he had no time to walk among the
violets on the water's edge. From his room he could look out in springtime
and see the couples hand in hand walking slowly, deliciously,
across the campus, and he could smell the sweet vernal winds. He was
not stone. He was not unmoved. He had to teach himself patiently that
these traps were not for him. He must mentally pull the blinds and
close the window, so that all that existed was in the books before him.
At law school, the same. More of this stamping down of human emotion
as a young lawyer in New York. By the time he was prosperous enough-
his goals were high- he was bald and afraid of women. The only
one who would have him was his cripple, the strange unhappy woman
who became his wife. Perhaps it was right; perhaps it was just. He
had dared to defy nature, to turn his back to the Lorelei, and he was
punished. Like Mrs& Dalloway, with her regrets about Peter Walsh,
he had his moments of melancholy over a youth too well spent. If
he had had a son, he would tell him, "Gather ye rosebuds while ye
may **h This same flower that smiles today tomorrow will be dying".
But then his son could afford it. Lawrence was waiting for Bill
Boxell. The Vice President had called and asked if he could see
the Secretary at his home. He said the matter was urgent. The Secretary
was uneasy about the visit. He did not like Boxell. He suspected
something underhanded and furtive about him. Lawrence could not
put his finger on it precisely, and this worried him. When you disliked
or distrusted a man, you should have a reason. Human nature was
not a piece of meat you could tell was bad by its smell. Lawrence stared
a minute at the lighted ribbon of traffic, hoping that a clue to his
dislike of the Vice President would appear. It did not. Therefore,
he decided he was unfair to the young man and should make an effort
to understand and sympathize with his point of view. A half
hour later the Vice President arrived. He looked very carefully at
every piece of furnishing, as though hoping to store this information
carefully in his mind. He observed the Florentine vase in the hall,
the Renoir painting in the library, as well as the long shelves of well-bound
volumes; the pattern of the Oriental rug, the delicate cut-glass
chandelier. He said to the Secretary, "I understand
you came from a little Pennsylvania town near Wilkes-Barre. How did
you find out about this"? He waved his arm around at the furnishings.

It was not a discourteous question, Lawrence decided.

This young man had so little time to learn he had to be curious;
he had to find out. The Secretary did not tell him at what cost, at
what loneliness, he learned these things. He merely said, "Any good
decorator these days can make you a tasteful home". The Vice
President said, "If you hear of any names that would fix me cheap
in return for advertising they decorated the Vice President's
home, let me know. I can do business with that kind". Again,
Lawrence thought a little sadly, these were the fees of poverty and
ambition. Boxell did not have the chance to grow up graciously. He
had to acquire everything he was going to get in four years. They
had brandy in the library. Boxell looked at Lawrence with a searching
glance, the kind that a prosecuting attorney would give a man on trial.
What are your weaknesses? Where will you break? How best to
destroy your peace? The Vice President said with a slight
bluster, "There isn't anyone who loves the President more than
I do. Old Chris is my ideal. At the same time, you have to face facts
and realize that a man who's been in the Marine Corps all his
life doesn't understand much about politics. What does a monk know
about sex"? Lawrence listened with the practiced, deceptive
calm of the lawyer, but his face was in the shadow. "So,
we have to protect the old man for his own good. You see what I mean.
Congress is full of politicians, and if you want to get along with
them, you have to be politic. This is why I say we just can't go ahead
and disarm the Germans and pull down our own defenses. Let me tell
you what happened to me today. A fellow came up to me, a Senator,
I don't have to tell you his name, and he told me, 'I love the
President like a brother, but God damn it, he's crucifying me. I've
got a quarter of a million Germans in my state, and those krautheads
tune in on Father Werther every night, and if he tells them to
go out and piss in the public square, that's what they do. He's
telling them now to write letters to their Congressmen opposing the disarmament
of Germany'. And another one comes to me and he says, 'Look
here, there's a mill in my state employs five thousand people
making uniforms for the Navy.
The Bishop looked at him coldly and said "Take it or leave it"!

Literally, there was nothing else to do. He was caught in

a machine. But Sojourner was not easily excited or upset and said quite
calmly: "Let's go and see what it's like". Annisberg
was about seventy-five miles west of Birmingham, near the Georgia
border and on the Tallahoosa River, a small and dirty stream. The
city was a center of manufacture, especially in textiles, and also
because of the beauty of some of its surroundings, a residence for many
owners of the great industries in north Alabama. But it had, as was
usual in southern cities of this sort, a Black Bottom, a low region
near the river where the Negroes lived- servants and laborers huddled
together in a region with no sewage save the river, where streets
and sidewalks were neglected and where there was much poverty and crime.

Wilson came by train from Birmingham and looked the city

over; the rather pleasant white city was on the hill where the chief
stores were. Beyond were industries and factories. Then they went down
to Black Bottom. In the midst of this crowded region was the Allen
African Methodist Episcopal Church. It was an old and dirty
wooden structure, sadly in need of repair. But it was a landmark. It
had been there 50 years or more and everybody in town, black and white,
knew of it. It had just suffered a calamity, the final crisis in a
long series of calamities. For the old preacher who had been there twenty-five
years was dead, and the city mourned him. He was a
loud-voiced man, once vigorous but for many years now declining in strength
and ability. He was stern and overbearing with his flock, but obsequious
and conciliatory with the whites, especially the rich who partly
supported the church. The Deacon Board, headed by a black man
named Carlson, had practically taken over as the pastor grew old, and
had its way with the support of the Amen corner. The characteristic
thing about this church was its Amen corner and the weekly religious
orgy. A knot of old worshippers, chiefly women, listened weekly to a
sermon. It began invariably in low tones, almost conversational, and
then gradually worked up to high, shrill appeals to God and man. And
then the Amen corner took hold, re-enacting a form of group participation
in worship that stemmed from years before the Greek chorus, spreading
down through the African forest, overseas to the West Indies,
and then here in Alabama. With shout and slow dance, with tears and
song, with scream and contortion, the corner group was beset by hysteria
and shivering, wailing, shouting, possession of something that seemed
like an alien and outside force. It spread to most of the audience
and was often viewed by visiting whites who snickered behind handkerchief
and afterward discussed Negro religion. It sometimes ended in
death-like trances with many lying exhausted and panting on chair and
floor. To most of those who composed the Amen corner it was a magnificent
and beautiful experience, something for which they lived from week
to week. It was often re-enacted in less wild form at the Wednesday
night prayer meeting. Wilson, on his first Sunday, witnessed
this with something like disgust. He had preached a short sermon,
trying to talk man-to-man to the audience, to tell them who he was, what
he had done in Macon and Birmingham, and what he proposed to do here.
He sympathized with them on the loss of their old pastor. But then,
at mention of that name, the Amen corner broke loose. He had no
chance to say another word. At the very end, when the audience was silent
and breathless, a collection was taken and then slowly everyone
filed out. The audience did not think much of the new pastor, and what
the new pastor thought of the audience he did not dare at the time to
say. During the next weeks he looked over the situation. First
of all there was the parsonage, an utterly impossible place for civilized
people to live in, originally poorly conceived, apparently not
repaired for years, with no plumbing or sewage, with rat-holes and rot.
It was arranged that he would board in the home of one of the old
members of the church, a woman named Catt who, as Wilson afterward found,
was briefly referred to as The Cat because of her sharp tongue
and fierce initiative. Ann Catt was a lonely, devoted soul,
never married, conducting a spotless home and devoted to her church, but
a perpetual dissenter and born critic. She soared over the new pastor
like an avenging angel lest he stray from the path and not know all
the truth and gossip of which she was chief repository. Then
Wilson looked over the church and studied its condition. The salary
of the pastor had for years been $500 annually and even this was in arrears.
Wilson made up his mind that he must receive at least $2,500,
but when he mentioned this to the Deacons they said nothing. The church
itself must be repaired. It was dirty and neglected. It really
ought to be rebuilt, and he determined to go up and talk to the city banks
about this. Meanwhile, the city itself should be talked to. The
streets in the colored section were dirty. There was typhoid and malaria.
The children had nowhere to go and no place to play, not even sidewalks.
The school was small, dark and ill-equipped. The teacher was
a pliant fool. There were two liquor saloons not very far from the
church, one white, that is conducted for white people with a side entrance
for Negroes; the other exclusively Negro. Undoubtedly, there
was a good deal of gambling in both. On the other side of the
church
was a quiet, well-kept house with shutters and recently painted. Wilson
inquired about it. It was called Kent House. The deacon of the
church, Carlson, was its janitor. One of the leading members of the
Amen corner was cook; there were two or three colored maids employed
there. Wilson was told that it was a sort of hotel for white people,
which seemed to him rather queer. Why should a white hotel be set
down in the center of Black Bottom? But nevertheless it looked respectable.
He was glad to have it there. The rest of Black
Bottom was a rabbit warren of homes in every condition of neglect, disrepair
and careful upkeep. Dives, carefully repaired huts, and nicely
painted and ornamented cottages were jumbled together cheek by jowl
with little distinction. The best could not escape from the worst and
the worst nestled cosily beside the better. The yards, front and back,
were narrow; some were trash dumps, some had flower gardens. Behind
were privies, for there was no sewage system. After looking
about a bit, Wilson discovered beyond Black Bottom, across the river
and far removed from the white city, a considerable tract of land,
and it occurred to him that the church and the better Negro homes might
gradually be moved to this plot. He talked about it to the Presiding
Elder. The Presiding Elder looked him over rather carefully.
He was not sure what kind of a man he had in hand. But there was one
thing that he had to stress, and that was that the contribution to the
general church expenses, the dollar money, had been seriously falling
behind in this church, and that must be looked after immediately. In
fact, he intimated clearly that that was the reason that Wilson had
been sent here- to make a larger contribution of dollar money.

Wilson stressed the fact that clear as this was, they must have a
better church, a more business-like conduct of the church organization,
and an effort to get this religious center out of its rut of wild worship
into a modern church organization. He emphasized to the Presiding
Elder the plan of giving up the old church and moving across the
river. The Presiding Elder was sure that that would be impossible.
But he told Wilson to "go ahead and try". And Wilson tried.

It did seem impossible. The bank which held the mortgage on the
old church declared that the interest was considerably in arrears, and
the real estate people said flatly that the land across the river was
being held for an eventual development for white working people who
were coming in, and that none would be sold to colored folk. When it
was proposed to rebuild the church, Wilson found that the terms for
a new mortgage were very high. He was sure that he could do better if
he went to Atlanta to get the deal financed. But when this proposal
was made to his Deacon Board, he met unanimous opposition. The
church certainly would not be removed. The very proposition was sacrilege.
It had been here fifty years. It was going to stay forever.
It was hardly possible to get any argument on the subject. As for
rebuilding, well, that might be looked into, but there was no hurry, no
hurry at all. Wilson again went downtown to a different banker,
an intelligent young white man who seemed rather sympathetic, but
he shook his head. "Reverend", he said, "I think you don't
quite understand the situation here. Don't you see the amount
of money that has been invested by whites around that church? Tenements,
stores, saloons, some gambling, I hope not too much. The colored
people are getting employment at Kent House and other places, and
they are near their places of employment. When a city has arranged
things like this you cannot easily change them. Now, if I were you I
would just plan to repair the old church so it would last for five or
ten years. By that time, perhaps something better can be done".

Then Wilson asked, "What about this Kent House which you
mention? I don't understand why a white hotel should be down here".
The young banker looked at him with a certain surprise, and
then he said flatly: "I'm afraid I can't tell you anything
in particular about Kent House. You'll have to find out about it
on your own. Hope to see you again". And he dismissed the colored
pastor. It was next day that Sojourner came and sat beside
him and took his hand. She said, "My dear, do you know what Kent
House is"? "No", said Wilson, "I don't. I was
just asking about it. What is it"? "It's a house of prostitution
for white men with white girls as inmates. They hire
a good deal of local labor, including two members of our Trustee Board.
They buy some supplies from our colored grocers and they are patronized
by some of the best white gentlemen in town". Wilson stared
at her. "My dear, you must be mistaken". "Talk to
Mrs& Catt", she said. And after Wilson had talked to Mrs&
Catt and to others, he was absolutely amazed. This, of course, was
the sort of thing that used to take place in Southern cities- putting
white houses of prostitution with colored girls in colored neighborhoods
and carrying them on openly. But it had largely disappeared on
account of protest by the whites and through growing resentment on the
part of the Negroes as they became more educated and got better wages.

But this situation of Kent House was more subtle. The wages
involved were larger and more regular. The inmates were white and
from out of town, avoiding local friction. The backing from the white
town was greater and there was little publicity. Good wages, patronage
and subscription of various kinds stopped open protest from Negroes.
And yet Wilson knew that this place must go or he must go. And
for him to leave this job now without accomplishing anything would mean
practically the end of his career in the Methodist church, if not
in all churches.
Payne dismounted in Madison Place and handed the reins to Herold.
There was a fog, which increased the darkness of the night. Two gas
lamps were no more than a misleading glow. He might have been anywhere
or nowhere. The pretence was that he was delivering a prescription
from Dr& Verdi. Secretary of State Seward was a sick man.
The idea had come from Herold, who had once been a chemist's clerk.
The sick were always receiving medicines. No one would question
such an errand. The bottle was filled up with flour. Before Payne
loomed the Old Clubhouse, Seward's home, where Key had once
been killed. Now it would have another death. From the outside it
was an ordinary enough house of the gentry. He clomped heavily up the
stoop and rang the bell. Like the bell at Mass, the doorbell was pitched
too high. It was still Good Friday, after all. A nigger
boy opened the door. Payne did not notice him. He was thinking chiefly
of Cap. If their schedules were to synchronize, there was no point
in wasting time. He pushed his way inside. For a moment
the hall confused him. This was the largest house he had ever been in,
almost the largest building, except for a hotel. He had no idea where
Seward's room would be. In the half darkness the banisters gleamed,
and the hall seemed enormous. Above him somewhere were the bedrooms.
Seward would be up there. He explained his errand, but without
bothering much to make it plausible, for he felt something well
up in him which was the reason why he had fled the army. He did not
really want to kill, but as in the sexual act, there was a moment when
the impulse took over and could not be downed, even while you watched
yourself giving way to it. He was no longer worried. Everything would
be all right. He knew that in this mood he could not be stopped.

Still, the sensation always surprised him. It was a thrill he

felt no part in. He could only watch with a sort of gentle dismay while
his body did these quick, appalling, and efficient things. He
brushed by the idiotic boy and lumbered heavily up the stairs. They
were carpeted, but made for pumps and congress gaiters, not the great
clodhoppers he wore. The sound of his footsteps was like a muffled
drum. At the top of the stairs he ran into somebody standing there
angrily in a dressing gown. He stopped and whispered his errand.
Young Frederick Seward held out his hand. Panting a little, Payne
shook his head. Dr& Verdi had told him to deliver his package in
person. Frederick Seward said his father was sleeping, and then
went through a pantomime at his father's door, to prove the statement.

"Very well", Payne said. "I will go". He smiled,

but now that he knew where the elder Seward was, he did not intend
to go. He pulled out his pistol and fired it. It made no sound. It
had misfired. Reversing it, he smashed the butt down on Frederick
Seward's head, over and over again. It was the first blow
that was always difficult. After that, violence was exultantly easy.
He got caught up into it and became a different person. Only afterwards
did an act like that become meaningless, so that he would puzzle over
it for days, whereas at the time it had seemed quite real.
The nigger boy fled down the stairs, screaming, "Murder".
It was not murder at all. Payne was more methodical than that. He
was merely clearing a way to what he had to do. He ran for the
sick room, found his pistol was broken, and threw it away. A knife would
do. From childhood he had known all about knives. Someone blocked
the door from inside. He smashed it in and tumbled into darkness.
He saw only dimly moving figures, but when he slashed them they yelled
and fled. He went for the bed, jumped on it, and struck where he could,
repeatedly. It was like finally getting into one's own nightmares
to punish one's dreams. Two men pulled him off. Nobody
said anything. Payne hacked at their arms. There was a lady there, in
a nightdress. He would not have wanted to hurt a lady. Another man
approached, this one fully dressed. When the knife went into his chest,
he went down at once. "I'm mad", shouted Payne, as
he ran out into the hall. "I'm mad", and only wished he had been.
That would have made things so much easier. But he was not mad. He
was only dreaming. He clattered down the stairs and out of
the door. Somewhere in the fog, the nigger boy was still yelling murder.
One always wakes up, even from one's own dreams. The clammy air
revived him. Herold, he saw, had fled. Well, one did not expect
much of people like Herold. He unhitched his horse, walked
it away, mounted, and spurred it on. The nigger boy was close
behind him. Then the nigger boy turned back and he was alone. He rode
on and on. He had no idea where he was. After some time he came to
an open field. An open field was better than a building, that was for
sure, so he dismounted, turned off the horse, and plunged through the
grass. He felt curiously sleepy, the world seemed far away;
he knew he should get to Cap, but he didn't know how. He was sure,
for he had done as he was told, hadn't he? Cap would find him
and take care of him. So choosing a good tree, he clambered up into it,
found a comfortable notch, and curled up in it to sleep, like the tousled
bear he was, with his hands across his chest, as though surfeited
with honey. Violence always made him tired, but he was not
frightened. ##

In Boston, Edwin Booth was winding up a performance

of <A New Way to Pay Old Debts>. It was a part so familiar
to him that he did not bother to think about it any more. Acting soothed
him. On a stage he always knew what to do, and tonight, to judge
by the applause, he must be doing it better than usual. As
Sir Giles Overreach (how often had he had to play that part, who did
not believe a word of it), he raised his arm and declaimed: "Where
is my honour now"? That was one of the high spots of the
play. The audience, as usual, loved it. He was delighted to see them
so happy. If he had any worries, it was only the small ones, about
Mother in New York, and his daughter Edwina and what she might be
doing at this hour, with her Aunt Asia, in Philadelphia. Everyone
is ambivalent about his profession, if he has practised it long
enough, but there were still moments when he loved the stage and all
those unseen people out there, who might cheer you or boo you, but that
was largely, though not entirely, up to you. They made the
world seem friendly somehow, though he knew it was not. #/7,#

Wilkes
was quite right about one thing. Laura Keene had been in the
green room. The commotion had brought her into the wings. Since she
could not act, one part suited her as well as any other, and so she was
the first person to offer Mr& Lincoln a glass of water, holding
it
up to the box, high above her head, to Miss Harris, who had asked for
it. She had been one of the first to collect her wits.

It was not so much that the shot had stunned the audience, as that
they had been stunned already. Most of them had seen <Our American
Cousin> before, and unless Miss Keene was on stage, there was not
much to it. The theatre was hot and they were drugged with boredom.

The stage had been empty, except for Harry Hawk, doing his star
monologue. The audience was fond of Harry Hawk, he was a dear,
in or out of character, but he was not particularly funny. At the end
of the monologue the audience would applaud. Meanwhile it looked at
the scenery. "Well, I guess I know enough to turn you inside
out, you sockdologizing old mantrap"! said Trenchard, otherwise
Hawk. There was always a pause here, before the next line.
That was when the gun went off. Yet even that explosion did not mean
much. Guns were going off all over Washington City these days, because
of the celebrations, and the theatre was not soundproof. Then
the audience saw a small, dim figure appear at the edge of the Presidential
box. "<Sic semper tyrannis>", it said mildly. Booth
had delivered his line. Behind him billowed a small pungent cloud
of smoke. They strained forward. They had not heard what had
been said. They had been sitting too long to be able to stand up easily.
The figure leapt from the box, almost lost its balance, the flag
draped there tore in the air, the figure landed on its left leg, fell
on its hands, and pressed itself up. Harry Hawk still had his
arm raised towards the wings. His speech faltered. He did not lower
his arm. The figure was so theatrically dressed, that it was
as though
a character from some other play had blundered into this one. The
play for Saturday night was to be a benefit performance of <The Octoroon>.
This figure looked like the slave dealer from that. But it
also looked like a toad, hopping away from the light. There was something
maimed and crazy about its motion that disturbed them. Then
it disappeared into the wings. Harry Hawk had not shifted
position, but he at last lowered his arm. Mrs& Lincoln screamed.
There was no mistaking that scream. It was what anyone who had ever
seen her had always expected her to do. Yet this scream had a different
note in it. That absence of an urgent self-indulgence dashed them
awake like a pail of water. Clara Harris, one of the guests
in the box, stood up and demanded water. Her action was involuntary.
When something unexpected happened, one always asked for water if
one were a woman, brandy if one were a man. Mrs& lincoln screamed
again. In the Presidential box someone leaned over the
balustrade and yelled: "He has shot the President"! That
got everybody up. On the stage, Harry Hawk began to weep. Laura
Keene
brushed by him with the glass of water. The crowd began to move.
In Washington City everyone lived in a bubble of plots, and one death
might attract another. It was not exactly panic they gave way to,
but they could not just sit there. The beehive voices, for no one could
bear silence, drowned out the sound of Mrs& Lincoln's weeping.

At the rear of the auditorium, upstairs, some men tried to

push open the door to the box corridor. It would not give. A
Dr& Charles Taft clambered up on the stage and got the actors to
hoist him up to the box. In the audience a man named Ferguson lost
his head and tried to rescue a little girl from the mob, on the same principle
which had led Miss Harris to demand water. Someone
opened the corridor door from the inside, and called for a doctor. Somehow
Dr& Charles Leale was forced through the mob and squeezed out
into the dingy corridor. He went straight to the Presidential box.

As usual, Mrs& Lincoln had lost her head, but nobody blamed
her for doing so now. There was a little blood on the hem of her dress,
for the assassin had slashed Miss Harris's companion, Major
Rathbone, with a knife. Rathbone said he was bleeding to death. By
the look of him he wasn't that far gone.
With a sneer, the man spread his legs and, a third time, confronted them.

Once more, Katie reared, and whinnied in fear. For a moment,

boy and mount hung in midair. Stevie twisted and, frantically,
commanded the mare to leap straight ahead. But the stranger was nimbler
still. With a bold arm, he dared once more to obstruct them. Katie
reared a third time, then, trembling, descended. The stranger
leered. Seizing the bridle, he tugged with all his might and forced
Katie to her knees. It was absurd. Stevie could feel himself toppling.
He saw the ground coming up- and the stranger's head. With
incredible ferocity, he brought his fists together and struck. The blow
encountered silky hair and hard bone. The man uttered a weird cry,
spun about, and collapsed in the sand. Katie scrambled to her
feet, Stevie agilely retaining his seat. Again Katie reared, and now,
wickedly, he compelled her to bring her hooves down again and again
upon the sprawled figure of the stranger. He could feel his own feet,
iron-shod, striking repeatedly until the body was limp. He gloated,
and his lips slavered. He heard himself chortling. They rode
around and around to trample the figure into the sand. Only the top
of the head, with a spot bare and white as a clamshell, remained visible.
Stevie was shouting triumphantly. A train hooted. Instantly,
he chilled. They were pursuing him. He was frightened; his fists
clutched so tightly that his knuckles hurt. Then Katie stumbled,
and again he was falling, falling! "Stevie! Stevie"!

His mother was nudging him, but he was still falling. His head hung
over the boards of Katie's stall; before it was sprawled the
mangled corpse of the bearded stranger. "Stevie, wake up now!
We're nearly there". He had been dreaming. He was safe
in his Mama's arms. The train had slowed. Houses winked
as the cars rolled beside a little depot. "Po' Chavis"! the
trainman
called. He came by and repeated, "Po' Chavis"!

#CHAPTER
6#

<Bong! Bong!> startled him awake. The room vibrated as

if a giant hand had rocked it. <Bong!> a dull boom and a throbbing
echo. The walls bulged, the floor trembled, the windowpanes rattled.
He stared at the far morning, expecting a pendulum to swing across the
horizon. <Bong!> He raced to the window and yanked at the sash.
<Bong!> the wood was old, the paint alligatored. <Bong!> A
fresh breeze saluted him. <Six> o'clock! He put his his
head out. There was the slate roof of the church; ivy climbed the
red brick walls like a green-scaled monster. The clock which had struck
presented an innocent face. In the kitchen Mama was wiping
the cupboards. "There's a tower and a steeple on the church
a million feet high. And the loudest clock in the whole world"!

"I know, Stephen", she smiled. "They say that our

steeple is one hundred and sixty-two feet high. The clock you heard strike-
it's really the town clock- was installed last April by
Mrs& Shorter, on her birthday". He dressed, and sped outdoors.
He crossed Broome Street to Orange Square. The steeple leaned
backward, while the church advanced like a headless creature in a
long, shapeless coat. The spire seemed to hold up the sky. Port
Jervis, basking in the foothills, was the city of God. The Dutch
Reformed Church, with two steeples and its own school was on Main
Street; the Episcopal Church was one block down Sussex Street;
the Catholic Saint Mary's Church, with an even taller steeple
and a cross on top, stood on Ball Street. The Catholics had the
largest cemetery, near the Neversink River where Main Street ran south;
Stevie whistled when he passed these alien grounds. God
was everywhere, in the belfry, in the steeple, in the clouds, in the
trees, and in the mountains hulking on the horizon. Somewhere, beyond,
where shadows lurked, must be the yawning pit of which Papa preached
and the dreadful Lake of Fire. So, walking in awe, he became
familiar with God, who resided chiefly in Drew Centennial Church
with its high steeple and clock. There was no church like Drew Church,
no preacher like Papa, who was intimate with Him, and could consign
sinners to hellfire. To know God he must follow in Papa's
footsteps. He was fortunate, and proud. The veterans, idling
on their benches in the Square, beneath the soldiers' monument, got
to
their feet when Papa approached: "Morning, Reverend"! His
being and His will- Stevie could not divide God from his Papa-
illumined every parish face, turned the choir into a band of angels,
and the pulpit into the tollgate to Heaven. "We have nine
hundred and eleven members in our charge", Mama announced, "and three
hundred and eighty Sunday-school scholars". When Papa
went out to do God's work, Stevie often accompanied him in the buggy,
which was drawn by Violet, the new black mare. Although they journeyed
westerly as far as Germantown, beyond the Erie roundhouse and
the machine shop, and along the Delaware and Hudson Canal, and northward
to Brooklyn, below Point Peter, he could see the church spire
wherever he looked back. Sometimes they went south and rolled past
the tollhouse- "Afternoon, Reverend"!- and crossed the suspension
bridge to Matamoras; that was Pennsylvania. In the
Delaware River, three long islands were overgrown with greening trees
and underbrush. South of Laurel Grove Cemetery, and below the
junction of the Neversink and the Delaware, was the Tri-State Rock,
from which Stevie could spy New Jersey and Pennsylvania, as well
as New York, simply by spinning around on his heel. On these
excursions, Papa instructed him on man's chief end, which was his
duty to God and his own salvation. However, a boy's lively eyes might
rove. Where Cuddleback Brook purled into the Neversink was a magnificent
swimming hole. Papa pointed a scornful finger at the splashing
youth: "Idle recreation"! Stevie saw no idols; it troubled
him that he couldn't always see what Papa saw. He was torn between
the excitement in the sun-inflamed waters and a little engine chugging
northward on the Monticello Branch. "Where you been
today"? Ludie inquired every evening, pretending that he did not
care. "He'll make a preacher out of you"! "No, he
won't"! Stevie flared. "Not me"! "Somebody's
got to be a preacher in the family. He made a will and last testament
before we left Paterson. I heard them! Uncle and Aunt Howe were
the witnesses". "Will he die"? "Everybody
does". Ludie could be hateful. To speak of Papa dying was
a sin. It could never happen as long as God was alert and the Drew
steeple stood guard with its peaked lance. Stevie was constantly
slipping into the church. He pulled with all his strength at the
heavy, brass-bound door, and shuffled along the wainscoted wall. The
cold, mysterious presence of God was all around him. At the end of a
shaft of light, the pews appeared to be broad stairs in a long dungeon.
Far away, standing before a curtained window in the study room, was
his father, hands tucked under his coattails, and staring into the dark
church. The figure was wreathed in an extraordinary luminescence.

The boy shuddered at the deathly pale countenance with its wrinkles
and gray hair. Would Papa really die? The mouth was thin-lipped
and wide, the long cleft in the upper lip like a slide. When Papa's
slender fingers removed the spectacles, there were red indentations
on the bridge of the strong nose. "It's time you began
to think on God, Stephen. Perhaps one day He will choose you as
He chose me, long ago. Therefore, give Him your affection and store
up His love for you. Open your heart to Him and pray, Stephen, pray!
For His mercy and His guidance to spare you from evil and eternal
punishment in the Lake of Fire". Stevie had heard these
words many times, yet on each occasion they caused him to tremble.
For he feared the Lake of Fire. He strove to think of God and His
eternal wrath; he must pray to be spared. Papa was disappointed
that none of the brothers had heard the Call. Not George, Townley,
or Ted, certainly not Ludie. Burt was at Hackettstown and
Will at Albany Law School, where they surely could not hear it. Someday
God would choose <him>. He would hear the Call and would run
to tell Papa. The stern face would relax, the black-clad arms would
embrace him, "My son"! Yet how might he know the Call when
it came? Probably, as in Scriptures, a still, small voice would whisper.
It would summon him once; if he missed it, never again. What
if it came when he was playing, or was asleep and dreaming?

He must not fail to hear it. He was Papa's chosen; therefore,

nothing but good could happen to him, even in God's wrathful storms.
When the skies grew dark and thunder rolled across the valley, he
was unafraid. Aggie might fly into a closet, shut the door and bury her
head in the clothes; he dared to wait for the lightning. Lightning
could strike you blind if you were a sinner! But he was good.
He clenched his fists and faced the terror. Thunder crashed;
barrels tumbled down the mountainsides, and bounced and bounced till their
own fury split them open. Lightning might strike the steeples of
the other churches; not of Drew Church. A flash illumined the trees
as a crooked bolt twigged in several directions. Violet whinnied
from the stable. He ran out into the downpour, sped across the
yard and into the buggy room. "Don't be afraid, Violet"! he
shouted, and was aghast at the echoes. "Don't you be afraid"!
He would save her. If there was a fire or a flood he would save Mama
first and Violet next. Drenched and shaking, he stood near the sweet-smelling
stall and dared to pat her muzzle. "Don't you be afraid,
Violet"! After the storm, the sky cleared blue and cool,
and fragrant air swept the hills. When the sun came out, Stevie
strode proudly into Orange Square, smiling like a landlord on industrious
tenants. The fountain had brimmed over, the cannon were wet, the
soldiers' monument glistened. Even before the benches had dried,
the Civil War veterans were straggling back to their places. The great
spire shone as if the lightning had polished it. He jumped. The
pointed shadow had nearly touched him. He trailed Ludie to the
baseball game in the lot on Kingston Street near the Dutch Reformed.

"Go on home"! Ludie screeched at him. "Someone'll

tell Papa"! No one told on Ludie, not even when he
slipped live grasshoppers into the mite-box. Ludie did as he pleased.

Ludie took his slingshot and climbed to the rooftop to shoot

at
crows. Ludie chewed roofer's tar. Ludie had a cigar box full of
marbles and shooters, and a Roman candle from last Fourth of July.
Ludie hopped rides on freight cars, and was chased by Mr& Yankton,
the railroad guard. He came home overheated, ran straight to the ice-chest,
and gulped shivery cold water. Stevie envied him. That
Ludie! He, too, cocked his cap at a jaunty angle, jingled marbles
in his pocket, and swaggered down Main Street. On the Christophers'
lawn, little girls in white pinafores were playing grownups at
a tea party. A Newfoundland sat solemnly beside a doghouse half his
size. Stevie yearned for a dog. He wondered whether God had a dog in
the sky. He meandered down Pike Street, past the First National
Bank with its green window shades. He crossed the tracks to
Delaware House, where ladies in gay dresses and men in straw boaters
and waxed mustaches crowded the verandah. A tall lady, with a ruffled
collar very low on her bosom, turned insolent green eyes upon him. She
was taller than Aggie. She was so beautiful with her rosy mouth
and haughty air that she had to be wicked. Fiddles screeched; a piano
tinkled. "P& J&"- as Ludie called the town- was
crowded with summer people who came to the mountains to escape the
heat in the big cities. They stayed at hotels and boardinghouses, or
at private homes. Rich people went to Delaware House, Opera House,
American House or Fowler House.
<If the crummy bastard could write!> That's how it should be.
<It's those two fucken niggers! Krist, I wish they could write!>
Nigger pussy. He thought of sweet wet nigger pussy. <Oh,
sweet
land of heaven, haint there just nothin like sweet nigger pussy!>
He thought of her, the first one. He had caught her coming out of the
shack. She was a juicy one. <Oh how they bounced!> Fresh, warm,
sweet and juicy, sweet lovin sixteen, she was. <Man how I love
nigger pussy!> The snow came a little faster now, he noted. He thought
of Joe Harris, the nigger who had gone after his sister. He chuckled,
the memory vivid. <Jee- sus, We Fixed him! Yooee, we
fixed him!> The snow again. <If only the fucken weather wasn't
so lousy! Goddamn niggers, Lord. What I have to put up with!
Sonuvabitch, I can't figure out what in hell for they went and put
niggers in my squad for. Only one worth a shit, and that's Brandon.
He ain't so bad> **h His thoughts turned to other things
**h The big shock everybody had when they found ol Slater and those
others done for. <Kaboom for>. He had been pretty scared
himself, wondering what the hell was coming off. But he soon saw which
way the ball was bouncing. Soon came back to his senses. "I soon
came back to my senses", he said, aloud, to the young blizzard, proudly,
drawing himself up, as if making a report to some important superior
**h <I was the first to get my squad on the ball, and anybody
thinkin it was easy is pretty damn dumb. Look at thum. That goddamn
redheader was the worst. He kept sayin, not me, not me, I don't wanta
wind up like em. But I told him, goddammit>. "I told him",
he said aloud **h <They'll get the guys that done it. That'll
put the place back to normal>. Normal, <by God. Maybe it's a good
thing it happened. Maybe they'll stop it now, once for all. Clean
the place up. They're doin it now. I hear the whole bunch is croakin
out in the snow>. They'll get the guys that done it **h There
was something troubling him though: as yet <they hadn't> **h
Five days **h <Keerist> **h Prickly twinges of annoyance ran through
him. His eyes blinked hard, snapping on and squashing some bad things
that were
trying to push their way into him. A tune began to whirl
inside his head. One of his favorites: "Guitar Boogie". It
always came on, faithfully, just like a radio or juke box, whenever he
started to worry too much about something, when the bad things tried
to push their way into him. The music drove them off, or away, and he
was free to walk on air in a very few moments, humming and jiving within,
beating the rhythm within. He glowed with anticipation about what
would happen to the culprits when they caught them **h <Turn the
bastards over to me- to me and my boys- no nigger ever got what would
be comin to them>- reactionary bastards **h. He had never heard
the word reactionary before his life as a ~POW began. It was
a word he was proud of, a word that meant much to him, and he used it
with great pleasure, almost as if it were an exclusive possession, and
more: he sensed himself to be very highly educated, four cuts above
any of the folks back home **h "<Four cuts at least>", he chuckled
to himself, "<and I owe it all to them>". The word also
made him feel hate, sincere hate, for those so labeled. He used it very
effectively when he wanted to get his squad on the ball. It came up
again and again in the discussion sessions **h <Lousy Reactionary
bastards been tryin to fuck up the Program for months. Months. Hired,
hard lackeys of the Warmongering Capitalists. Not captured, sent
here. To fuck up the Program. You guys remember that. Remember that>
**h He heard himself haranguing them. He saw himself before them
delivering the speech. He laughed, suddenly, feeling a surge of power
telling him of his hold over them, seeing himself before them, receiving
utmost respect and attention. One day, Ching had told him (smiling,
patting him on the back) as they walked to the weekly conference
of squad leaders, "Keep it up, your squad is good, one of the best,
keep it up, keep up the good work". He would! That was really
something, coming from Ching **h "Really something", he said, aloud
**h <Dirty Reactionary bastards comin down here in the night and
bumpin off ol Slater and those other poor bastards>. "They'll
get them by God and let them bring them down here to me, just let them,
God I'll slice their balls right off **h" His arm moved swiftly,
violently, once, twice. He felt intense satisfaction. He was
tingling within. Before him, mutilated, bleeding to death, they lay.
It was as if it had been done. "Bastards", he said aloud, spitting
on them. He halted, and looked around. Rivers of cold sweat were
suddenly unleashed within him. The thought came back, the one nagging
at him these past four days. He tried to stifle it. But the words were
forming. He knew he couldn't. He braced himself **h <Somebody'll
hafta start thinkin> **h He fought it, seeking to kill the last
few words, but on they came **h <bout takin>- <his> **h He was
trembling, a strange feeling upon him, fully expecting some catastrophe
to strike him dead on the spot. But it didn't. And he took heart;
the final word came forth **h <place> **h Now he heard it, fully:
"**h <bout takin his place> **h" He listened, waited, nothing
happened. He felt good. His old self. The music arrived, taking
him **h its rhythm stroked him, snaked all through him, the lyrics
lifted him, took him from one magic isle to another, stopping briefly
at each **h <Brandon. He is good. Damn good. But a nigger. Johnson.
Jesus, the guy says he is trying. But he isn't with it, not
at all with it. When I talked to Ching about it, he said, Everyone
can learn, if he is not a Reactionary or lazy. No one is stupid. That's
what he said. He oughta know. It is plain as hell Johnson is
no Reactionary. So you're not tryin, Johnson, you bastard you>
**h He looked over at him, lying there, asleep, and he felt a wave of
revulsion. How he loathed him. Sleepy-eyed, soft-spoken Johnson **h
<Biggest thorn in my side of the whole fucken squad> **h He was
the guy what always goofed at Question Time **h <Why couldn't they
have dumped him off on someone else? Why me? Why didn't the
damn Reactionaries bump him off? Why Slater?> **h Like a particle
drawn to a magnet he returned to that which was pressing so hard
in his mind. The music surged up, but it failed to check it. <Who
is the man to take His place? The guy with most on the Ball>. Most
on the Ball. <Handle men. Thoroughly Wised Up. Knows the score>
**h With a supreme effort, he broke it off. He turned to the
window again. A gnawing and gnashing within him. The snow was tumbling
down furiously now. Huge glob-flakes hitting the ground, piling higher
and higher. He stared at it, amazed, alarmed **h <The whole fucken
sky's cavin in! Keeeerist! Lookit it! Cover the whole
building, bury us all, by nightfall. Jesus! **h Somebody, got to be
somebody **h If I don't put my two cents in soon, somebody else
will **h I know they're waitin only for one thing: for the bastards
what done it to be nailed. Maybe they already got them>. He was
again tingling with pleasure, seeing himself clearly in Slater's shoes.
<Top dog, sleeping and eating right there with the Staff. Ching,
Tien, all of them **h Top dog **h Poor ol Slater **h Jesus, imagine,
the crummy bastards, they'll get em, they'll get what's
comin to em> **h He whirled about suddenly. It was nothing, though
his heart was thumping wildly. Somebody was up. That was all.
"Boy, you're stirrin early", a sleepy voice said. "Yehhh",
said Coughlin, testily, eyeing him up and down. "Lookit
that come down, willya", said the man, scratching himself, yawning.

"Yehhh", said Coughlin, practically spitting on him.

The man moved away. <That's the way. They'll toe

the line. Goddamn it. Keep the chatter to a minimum, short answers,
one word, if possible. Less bull the more you can do with um. That's
Brown's trouble. All he does is to bullshit with his squad,
and they are the stupidest bastards around. Just about to get their asses
kicked into hut Seven. Plenty of room there now. All those dumb
8-Balls croaked. You can do anything with these dumb fucks if you
know how. Anything. They'd cut their mothers' belly open. Give
um the works. See,> he's <already snapping it up, the dumb jerk>
**h Coughlin grinned, feeling supremely on top of things **h He watched
the snow once again. It infuriated him. It made no sense to him
**h He whirled around, suddenly hot all over, finding the man who had
been standing before him a few moments back, nailing him to the spot
on which he now stood, open-mouthed- "You- Listen!-
name William Foster's Four Internal Contradictions in Capitalism.
Quick- Quick- NOW"! The man shrank before
the hot fury, searching frantically for the answer **h Finnegan
woke up. There was a hell of a noise this time of morning. He stared
out the window. <For Christ's sake! The whole fucken sky's
caved in!> He looked for the source of the noise that had awakened
him **h It was that prick Coughlin. What the hell was he up
to now? Why didn't he drop dead? How did they miss him when they
got Slater? <How?> **h Then he was asking himself the usual
early morning questions: <What the Hell am I doin here? Is
this a nut-house? Am I nuts? Is this for real? Am I dreamin?>
**h From somewhere in the hut came Coughlin's voice.

"How long did you study? How long, buddy"? "For

Christ's sake"! a voice pleaded. "Don't Christsake
me, buddy! Just answer. C'mon- <c'mon!>"
**h <I'm no hero. Did I start the damn war? **h Automatically,
Finnegan started going over today's lesson **h Capitalism rots from
the core. Did I start the damn war? Who did? That's a good
one. I thought I knew. Why don't Uncle Sam mind his own fucken
business? I'll bet both together did. I bet. So fuck them both.
Goddamn. Goddammit. Just let me go home to Jersey, back to the
shore, oh, Jesus, the shore. The waves breakin in on you and your girl
at night there on the warm beach in the moonlight even Jesus sweet
Mary. If I hafta do this to stay alive by God I'll do it. I
hated the goddamn army from the first day I got in anyhow. All pricks
like Coughlin run it anyway, one way or another. Fuck them> **h He
rolled over and tried to shut out the noise, now much louder. He snuggled
into the blanket **h ##

Brandon dreamed. <He was sitting

on top of a log which was spinning round and around in the water. A
river, wide as the Missouri, where it ran by his place. The log was
spinning. But he was not>. So what? Why should I be spinning just
because the goddamn log is spinning? (he asked this out loud, but
no one heard it over the other noise in the hut). <Over on the bank,
the west bank, a man stood, calling to him. He couldn't make out
what he was saying. No doubt it had to do with the log. Why should
he be concerned>?

Rousseau is so persuasive that Voltaire is almost convinced that

he should burn his books, too. But while the two men are riding into
the country, where they are going to dinner, they are attacked in
the dark of the forest by a band of thieves, who strip them of everything,
including most of their clothes. "You must be a very learned
man", says Voltaire to one of the bandits. "A learned
man"? the bandit laughs in his face. But Voltaire perseveres.
He goes to the chief himself. "At what university did you
study"? he asks. He refuses to believe that the bandit chief never
attended a higher institution. "To have become so corrupt", he
says, "surely you must have studied many arts and sciences".

The chief, annoyed by these questions, knocks Voltaire down and shouts
at him that he not only never went to any school, but never even
learned how to read. When finally the two bedraggled men reach
their friend's home, Voltaire's fears are once again aroused.
For it is such a distinguished place, with such fine works of art and
such a big library, that there can be little doubt but that the owner
has become depraved by all this culture. To Voltaire's surprise,
however, their host gives them fresh clothes to put on, opens his
purse to lend them money and sits them down before a good dinner.

Immediately after dinner, however, Rousseau asks for still another

favor. Could he have pen and paper, please? He is in a hurry
to write another essay against culture. Such was the impromptu
that Voltaire gave to howls of laughter at Sans Souci and that was
soon circulated in manuscript throughout the literary circles of Europe,
to be printed sometime later, but with the name of Timon of Athens,
the famous misanthrope, substituted for that of Rousseau.
How cruel! But at the same time how understandable. How could
the rich, for whom life was made so simple, ever understand the subterfuges,
the lies, the frauds, the errors, sins and even crimes to
which the poor were driven in their efforts to overcome the great advantages
the rich had in the race of life? How, for example,
could a Voltaire understand the strange predicament in which a Rousseau
would find himself when, soon after the furor of his first <Discourse,>
he acquired still another title to fame? This time
as a musician. As a composer. Ever since he had first begun
to study music and to teach it, Rousseau had dreamed of piercing through
to fame as the result of a successful opera. But his facility in
this genre was not great. And his efforts to get a performance for his
<Gallant Muses> invariably failed. And for good reasons. His
operatic music had little merit. But then one day, while on a
week's visit to the country home of a retired Swiss jeweler, Rousseau
amused the company with a few little melodies he had written, to which
he attached no great importance. He was really amazed to discover
the other guests so excited about these delicate little songs.

"Put a few such songs together", they urged him. "String them
onto some sort of little plot, and you'll have a delightful operetta".

He didn't believe them. "Nonsense", he said. "This

is the sort of stuff I write and then throw away"! "Heaven
forbid"! cried the ladies, enchanted by his music. "You
must make an opera out of this material". And they wouldn't
leave off arguing and pleading until he had promised. Oh,
the irony and the bitterness of it! That after all his years of effort
to become a composer, he should now, now when he was still stoutly
replying to the critics of his <Discourse on the Arts and Sciences,>
be so close to a success in music and have to reject it.
Or at least appear to reject it! But what else could he do?
You couldn't on the one hand decry the arts and at the same time
practice them, could you? Well, yes, perhaps in literature, since
you could argue that you couldn't keep silent about your feelings against
literature and so were involved in spite of yourself. But now music
too? No. That would be too much! And the fault, of
course, was Rameau's. The fault was Rameau's and that of the whole
culture of this Parisian age. For it was Rameau's type of music
that he had been trying to write, and that he couldn't write. These
little songs, however, were sweet nothings from the heart, tender
memories of his childhood, little melodies that anyone could hum and
that would make one want to weep. But no. He couldn't appear
as a composer now. That glory, craved for so long, was now forbidden
to him. Still, just for the ladies, and just for this once, for this
one weekend in the country, he would make a little piece out of his
melodies. The ladies were delighted and Jean Jacques was applauded.
And everyone went to work to learn the parts which he wrote.

But then, after the little operetta had been given its feeble
amateur rendering, everyone insisted that it was too good to be lost
forever, and that the Royal Academy of Music must now have the manuscript
in order to give it the really first-rate performance it merited.

Rousseau was aware that he must seem like a hypocrite, standing

there and arguing that he could not possibly permit a public performance.
The ladies especially couldn't understand what troubled him.
A contradiction? Bah, what was a contradiction in one's life?
Every woman has had the experience of saying no when she meant yes,
and saying yes when she meant no. Rousseau had to admit that
though he couldn't agree to a public performance, he would indeed,
just for his own private satisfaction, dearly love to know how his work
would sound when done by professional musicians and by trained voices.

"I'd simply like to know if it is as good as you kind people

seem to think", he said. Duclos, the historian, pointed
out to Jean Jacques that this was impossible. The musicians of the
Royal Opera would not rehearse a work merely to see how it would sound.
Merely to satisfy the author's curiosity. Rousseau agreed.
But he recalled that Rameau had once had a private performance
of his opera <Armide,> behind closed doors, just for himself alone.

Duclos understood what was bothering Rousseau: that the writer

of the Prosopopoeia of Fabricius should now become known as the
writer of an amusing little operetta. That would certainly be paradoxical.
But Duclos thought he saw a way out. "Let me do the
submitting to the Royal Academy", he suggested. "Your name will
never appear. No one will even suspect that it is your work".

To that Rousseau could agree. But now what crazy twists

and turns of his emotions! Afraid at one and the same time
that his work might be turned down- which would be a blow to his pride
even though no one knew he was the author- and that the work would
be accepted, and then that his violent feelings in the matter would
certainly betray how deeply concerned he was in spite of himself. And
how anxious this lover of obscurity was for applause! And thus torn
between his desire to be known as the composer of a successful opera
and the necessity of remaining true to his proclaimed desire for anonymity,
Rousseau suffered through several painful weeks. All these
emotions were screwed up to new heights when, after acceptance and
the first rehearsals, there ensued such a buzz of excitement among Parisian
music lovers that Duclos had to come running to Rousseau to
inform him that the news had reached the superintendent of the King's
amusements, and that he was now demanding that the work be offered
first at the royal summer palace of Fontainebleau. Imagine the honor
of it! "What was your answer"? Jean Jacques asked,
striving to appear unimpressed. "I refused", Duclos said.
"What else could I do? Monsieur de Cury was incensed, of course.
But I said I would first have to get the author's permission.
And I was certain he would refuse". How infuriating all
this was! Why had not this success come to him before he had plunged
into his <Discourse,> and before he had committed himself to a life
of austerity and denial? Now, when everything was opening up to
him- even the court of Louis /15,!- he had to play a role of
self-effacement. Back and forth Duclos had to go, between M&
de Cury and Jean Jacques and between the Duke d'Aumont and Jean
Jacques again, as his little operetta, <The Village Soothsayer,>
though still unperformed, took on ever more importance. And
of course the news of who the composer was did finally begin to get
around among his closest friends. But they, naturally, kept his secret
well, and the public at large knew only of a great excitement in musical
and court circles. How titillating it was to go among people
who did not know him as the composer, but who talked in the most
glowing terms of the promise of the piece after having heard the first
rehearsals. The furor was such that people who could not possibly have
squirmed their way into the rehearsals were pretending that they were
intimate with the whole affair and that it would be sensational. And
listening to such a conversation one morning while taking a cup of
chocolate in a cafe, Rousseau found himself bathed in perspiration,
trembling lest his authorship become known, and at the same time dreaming
of the startling effect he would make if he should proclaim himself
suddenly as the composer. He felt himself now, as he himself
says in his <Confessions,> at a crucial point of his life. And that
was why, on the day of the performance, when a carriage from the royal
stables called to take him to the palace, he did not bother to shave.
On the contrary, he was pleased that his face showed a neglect of
several days. Seeing him in that condition, and about to enter
the hall where the King, the Queen, the whole royal family and all
the members of the highest aristocracy would be present, Grimm and the
Abbe Raynal and others tried to stop him. "You can't
go in that way"! they cried. "Why not"? Jean Jacques
asked. "Who is going to stop me"? "You haven't dressed
for the occasion"! they pointed out to him. "I'm
dressed as I always am", Rousseau said. "Neither better nor worse".

"At home, yes", they argued. "But here you are

in the palace. There's the King. And Madame de Pompadour".

"If they are here, then surely I have the right to be here",
Rousseau said. "And even more right. Since I am the composer"!

"But in such a slovenly condition". "What

is slovenly about me"? Rousseau asked. "Is it because of my slovenliness
that hair grows on my face? Surely it would grow there
whether
I washed myself or not. A hundred years ago I would have worn
a beard with pride. And those without beards would have stood out as
not dressed for the occasion. Now times have changed, and I must pretend
that hair doesn't grow on my face. That's the fashion. And
fashion is the real king here. Not Louis /15,, since even he obeys.
Now, if you don't mind, I should like to hear my own piece performed".

But of course behind his boldness he didn't feel bold

at all. He trembled lest his piece should fail. And this in addition
to his usual fear of being among people of high society. His fear
of making some inane or inappropriate remark. And even deeper than
that: his fear lest in this closed hall he should suddenly itch to
relieve himself. Could he walk out in the midst of his piece? Here,
before the court? Before the King?
It was the first time any of us had laughed since the morning began.
##

The rider from Concord was as good as his word. He came spurring
and whooping down the road, his horse kicking up clouds of dust,
shouting: "They're a-coming! By God, they're a-coming,
they are"! We heard him before he ever showed, and we
heard him yelling after he was out of sight. Solomon Chandler hadn't
misjudged the strength of his lungs, not at all. I think you could
have heard him a mile away, and he was bursting at every seam with
importance. I have observed that being up on a horse changes the whole
character of a man, and when a very small man is up on a saddle, he'd
like as not prefer to eat his meals there. That's understandable,
and I appreciate the sentiment. As for this rider, I never saw
him before or afterwards and never saw him dismounted, so whether he stood
tall or short in his shoes, I can't say; but I do know that
he gave the day tone and distinction. The last thing in the world that
resembled a war was our line of farmers and storekeepers and mechanics
perched on top of a stone wall, and this dashing rider made us feel
a good deal sharper and more alert to the situation. We came
down off the wall as if he had toppled all of us, and we crouched behind
it. I have heard people talk with contempt about the British regulars,
but that only proves that a lot of people talk about things of
which they are deplorably ignorant. Whatever we felt about the redcoats,
we respected them in terms of their trade, which was killing; and
I know that I, myself, was nauseated with apprehension and fear and
that my hands were soaking wet where they held my gun. I wanted to wipe
my flint, but I didn't dare to, the state my hands were in, just
as I didn't dare to do anything about the priming. The gun would
fire or not, just as chance willed. I put a lot more trust in my two
legs than in the gun, because the most important thing I had learned
about war was that you could run away and survive to talk about it.

The gunfire, which was so near that it seemed just a piece up the
road now, stopped for long enough to count to twenty; and in that
brief
interval, a redcoat officer came tearing down the road, whipping
his horse fit to kill. I don't know whether he was after our rider,
who had gone by a minute before, or whether he was simply scouting conditions;
but when he passed us by, a musket roared, and he reared his
horse, swung it around, and began to whip it back in the direction
from which he had come. He was a fine and showy rider, but his skill
was wasted on us. From above me and somewhere behind me, a rifle cracked.
The redcoat officer collapsed like a punctured bolster, and the
horse reared and threw him from the saddle, except that one booted foot
caught in the stirrup. Half crazed by the weight dragging, the dust,
and the heat, the horse leaped our wall, dashing out the rider's brains
against it, and leaving him lying there among us- while the horse
crashed away through the brush. It was my initiation to war
and the insane symphony war plays; for what had happened on the common
was only terror and flight; but this grinning, broken head, not
ten feet away from me, was the sharp definition of what my reality had
become. And now the redcoats were coming, and the gunfire was
a part of the dust cloud on the road to the west of us. I must state
that the faster things happened, the slower they happened; the passage
and rhythm of time changed, and when I remember back to what happened
then, each event is a separate and frozen incident. In my recollection,
there was a long interval between the death of the officer and
the appearance of the first of the retreating redcoats, and in that interval
the dust cloud over the road seems to hover indefinitely. Yet
it could not have been more than a matter of seconds, and then the front
of the British army came into view. It was only hours since
I had last seen them, but they had changed and I had changed. In
the very front rank, two men were wounded and staggered along, trailing
blood behind them. No drummers here, no pipers, and the red coats
were covered with a fine film of dust. They marched with bayonets fixed,
and as fixed on their faces was anger, fear, and torment. Rank after
rank of them came down the road, and the faces were all the same,
and they walked in a sea of dust. "Committeemen, hold your fire!
Hold your fire"! a voice called, and what made it even more
terrible
and unreal was that the redcoat ranks never paused for an instant,
only some of them glancing toward the stone wall, from behind which
the voice came. The front of their column had already passed
us, when another officer came riding down the side of the road, not
five paces from where we were. My Cousin Simmons carried a musket,
but he had loaded it with bird shot, and as the officer came opposite
him, he rose up behind the wall and fired. One moment there was a man
in the saddle; the next a headless horror on a horse that bolted through
the redcoat ranks, and during the next second or two, we all of
us fired into the suddenly disorganized column of soldiers. One moment,
the road was filled with disciplined troops, marching four by four
with a purpose as implacable as death; the next, a cloud of gun smoke
covered a screaming fury of sound, out of which the redcoat soldiers
emerged with their bayonets and their cursing fury. In the course
of this, they had fired on us; but I have no memory of that. I
had squeezed the trigger of my own gun, and to my amazement, it had
fired and kicked back into my shoulder with the force of an angry mule;
and then I was adding my own voice to the crescendo of sound, hurling
more vile language than I ever thought I knew, sobbing and shouting,
and aware that if I had passed water before, it was not enough,
for my pants were soaking wet. I would have stood there and died
there if left to myself, but Cousin Simmons grabbed my arm in his
viselike grip and fairly plucked me out of there; and then I came
to some sanity and plunged away with such extraordinary speed that I
outdistanced Cousin Simmons by far. Everyone else was running. Later
we realized that the redcoats had stopped their charge at the wall.
Their only hope of survival was to hold to the road and keep marching.
##

We tumbled to a stop in Deacon Gordon's cow hole, a low-lying

bit of pasture with a muddy pool of water in its middle. A dozen
cows mooed sadly and regarded us as if we were insane, as perhaps
we were at that moment, with the crazy excitement of our first encounter,
the yelling and shooting still continuing up at the road, and the
thirst of some of the men, which was so great that they waded into the
muddy water and scooped up handfuls of it. Isaac Pitt, one of the
men from Lincoln, had taken a musket ball in his belly; and though
he had found the strength to run with us, now he collapsed and lay on
the ground, dying, the Reverend holding his head and wiping his hot brow.
It may appear that we were cruel and callous, but no one had time
to spend sympathizing with poor Isaac- except the Reverend. I know
that I myself felt that it was a mortal shame for a man to be torn
open by a British musket ball, as Isaac had been, yet I also felt
relieved and lucky that it had been him and not myself. I was drunk
with excitement and the smell of gunpowder that came floating down from
the road, and the fact that I was not afraid now, but only waiting
to know what to do next. Meanwhile, I reloaded my gun, as the
other men were doing. We were less than a quarter of a mile from the
road, and we could trace its shape from the ribbon of powder smoke and
dust that hung over it. Wherever you looked, you saw Committeemen
running across the meadows, some away from the road, some toward it, some
parallel to it; and about a mile to the west a cluster of at least
fifty militia were making their way in our direction. Cousin
Joshua and some others felt that we should march toward Lexington
and take up new positions ahead of the slow-moving British column, but
another group maintained that we should stick to this spot and this
section of road. I didn't offer any advice, but I certainly did not
want to go back to where the officer lay with his brains dashed out.
Someone said that while we were standing here and arguing about it,
the British would be gone; but Cousin Simmons said he had watched
them marching west early in the morning, and moving at a much brisker
pace it had still taken half an hour for their column to pass, what with
the narrowness of the road and their baggage and ammunition carts.

While this was being discussed, we saw the militia to the west
of us fanning out and breaking into little clusters of two and three
men as they approached the road. It was the opinion of some of us that
these must be part of the Committeemen who had been in the Battle
of the North Bridge, which entitled them to a sort of veteran status,
and we felt that if they employed this tactic, it was likely enough
the best one. Mattathias Dover said: "It makes sense. If
we cluster together, the redcoats can make an advantage out of it,
but there's not a blessed thing they can do with two or three of
us except chase us, and we can outrun them". That settled it,
and we broke into parties of two and three. Cousin Joshua Dover
decided
to remain with the Reverend and poor Isaac Pitt until life passed away-
and he was hurt so badly he did not seem for long in this world.
I went off with Cousin Simmons, who maintained that if he didn't
see to me, he didn't know who would. "Good heavens, Adam",
he said, "I thought one thing you'd have no trouble learning
is when to get out of a place". "I learned that now",
I said. ##

We ran east for about half a mile before we turned back

to the road, panting from the effort and soaked with sweat. There
was a clump of trees that appeared to provide cover right up to the road,
and the shouting and gunfire never slackened. Under the trees,
there was a dead redcoat, a young boy with a pasty white skin and
a face full of pimples, who had taken a rifle ball directly between the
eyes. Three men were around him. They had stripped him of his musket
and equipment, and now they were pulling his boots and jacket off.
Cousin Simmons grabbed one of them by the shoulder and flung him away.

"God's name, what are you to rob the dead with the fight
going on"! Cousin Simmons roared. They tried to outface
him, but Joseph Simmons was as wide as two average men, and it would
have taken braver men than these were to outface him.

That summer the gambling houses were closed, despite the threats
of Pierre Ameaux, a gaming-card manufacturer. Dancing was no longer
permitted in the streets. The Bordel and other places of prostitution
were emptied. The slit breeches had to go. Drunkenness was no
longer tolerated. In defiance, a chinless reprobate, Jake Camaret,
marched down the aisle in St& Peter's one Sunday morning, followed
by one of the women from the Bordel, whose dress and walk plainly
showed the lack of any shame. Plunking themselves down on the front
bench, they turned to smirk at those around them. John's first
impulse was to denounce their blasphemy. But the thought occurred
that God would want this opportunity used to tell them about Him. Calmly
he opened the Bible and read of the woman at the well. He finished
the worship service as if there had been no brazen attempt to dishonor
God and man. The next morning, as the clock struck nine,
he appeared at the Council meeting in the Town Hall and insisted
that the couple would have to be punished if the Church was to be respected.

"I have told you before, and I tell you again", Monsieur
Favre said rudely. "Stick to the preaching of the Gospel"!

John stiffened in anger. "That is the answer the ungodly

will always make when the Church points its fingers at their sins.
I say to you that the Church will ever decry evil"! John's
reply was like a declaration of war. Monsieur Favre sat down
in his high-backed stall, lips compressed, eyes glinting. Ablard Corne,
a short man with a rotunda of stomach, rose. Every eye was on him
as he began to speak. "What Master Calvin says is true.
How can we have a good city unless we respect morality"? Abel
Poupin, a tall man with sunken cheeks and deep-set eyes, got to
his feet. "We all know that Jake Camaret and the woman are brazenly
living together. It would be well to show the populace how we deal
with adulterers". Philibert Berthelier, the son of the famous
patriot, disagreed. "Do not listen to that Frenchman. He is throttling
the liberty my father gave his life to win"! John
was quietly insistent. "There can be no compromise when souls are
in jeopardy". A week later the sentence of the Council was
carried out: Jake Camaret and the woman were marched naked through
the streets past a mocking populace. Before them stalked the beadle,
proclaiming as he went, "Thus the Council deals with those who break
its laws- adulterers, thieves, murderers, and lewd persons. Let
evildoers contemplate their ways, and let every man beware"! ##

John's thoughts raced painfully into the past as he read the letter
he had just received from his sister Mary. Charles had died two
weeks before, in early November, without being reconciled to the Church.
The canons, in a body, had tried to force him on his deathbed to
let them give him the last rites of the Church, but he had died still
proclaiming salvation by faith. Burial had taken place at night in
the ground at the public crossroads under the gibbet, so that his enemies
could not find his body and have it dug up and burned. The Abbot
of St& Eloi, Claude de Mommor, had been a good friend, but not
even he thought Charles deserved burial in hallowed ground. John
closed his eyes and saw once again the little niche in his mother's
bedroom, where she had knelt to tell the good Virgin of her needs.
The blue-draped Virgin was still there, but no one knelt before her
now. Not even Varnessa; she, too, prayed only to God. For an
instant John longed for the sound of the bells of Noyon-la-Sainte,
the touch of his mother's hand, the lilt of Charles's voice in the
square raftered rooms, his father's bass tones rumbling to the canons,
and the sight of the beloved bishop. But he had to follow the light.
Unless God expected a man to believe the Holy Scriptures, why
had He given them to him? ##

The white-clad trees stood like

specters in the February night. Snow buried the streets and covered
the slanting rooftops, as John trudged toward St& Peter's. A carriage
crunched by, its dim lights filtering through the gloom. The
sharp wind slapped at him and his feet felt like ice as the snow penetrated
the holes of his shoes, his only ones, now patched with folded parchment.
The city had recently given him a small salary, but it was not
enough to supply even necessities. As he neared the square, a
round figure muffled in a long, black cape whisked by. John recognized
Ablard Corne and called out a greeting. How grateful he was to such
men! There were several on the Council who tried to live like Christians.
Despite their efforts, the problems seemed to grow graver
all the time. Quickening his steps, John entered the vast church and
climbed the tower steps to the bells. Underneath the big one, in the
silent moonlight, lay a dead pigeon, and on the smaller bell, the <Clemence>,
two gray and white birds slept huddled together in the cold
winter air. John leaned upon the stone balustrade. He brushed
back his black hair, shoving it under his pastor's cap to keep it
from blowing in his eyes. Below the moon-splashed world rolled away
to insurmountable white peaks; above him the deep blue sky glittered
with stars. He stood very still, his arms at his sides, staring up
at the heavens, then down at the blinking lights below. "How
long, my Lord? How long? I have never asked for an easy task,
but I am weary of the strife". Sleep was difficult these days.
Indigestion plagued him. Severe headaches were frequent. Loneliness
tore through him like a physical pain whenever he thought of Peter
Robert, Nerien, Nicholas Cop, Martin Bucer, and even the compromising
Louis du Tillet. An occasional traveler from Italy brought
news of Peter Robert, who was now distributing his Bible among the
Waldensian peasants. Letters came regularly from Nerien, Nicholas,
and Martin. He had Anthony and William to confide in and consult.
But William continued to find a bitter joy in smashing images and
tearing down symbols sacred to the Old Church. John found it difficult,
but he held him in check. And Anthony was busy most of the time
courting this girl and that. His easy good looks made him a favorite
with the ladies. Geneva, instead of becoming the City of God,
as John had dreamed, had in the two years since he had been there,
continued to be a godless place where all manner of vice flourished.
Refugees poured in, signing the Confession and rules in order to remain,
and then disregarding them. Dice rolled, prostitutes plied their
trade, thieves stole, murderers stabbed, and the ungodly blasphemed.
Catholics who were truly Christians longed for the simple penance of
days gone by. Libertines recalled the heroism of the past and demanded:
"Are we going to allow the Protestant Pope, Master Calvin,
to curtail our liberty? **h Why, oh why, doesn't he stick to preaching
the Gospel, instead of meddling in civic affairs, politics,
economics, and social issues that are no concern of the Church"?
And John's reply was always the same: "Anything that affects
souls is the concern of the Church! We will have righteousness"!

Tears burned behind his eyes as he prayed and meditated tonight.

Unless the confusion cleared, he would not be coming here much
longer. Monsieur Favre's threat would become a reality, for he continued
to proclaim loudly that the city must rid itself of "that Frenchman".

The slow tapping of a cane on the stone steps coming

up to the tower interrupted his reverie. Faint at first, the tapping
grew until it sounded loud against the wind. Eli Corault! John
thought. What is he doing here at this hour? He started down the
steps to meet the near-blind preacher, who had been one of the early Gospelers
in Paris. "John? Is that you? I came to warn
you of a plot"! John stood above him, his face ashen. What
now? Slowly, like a man grown old, he took Eli's hand and led
him below to the tower study, guiding him to a chair beside the little
hearth where a fire still burned. "Plot"? John asked
tiredly. "Monsieur Favre just paid me a visit. I went to
your rooms, and Anthony told me you were here. Two Anabaptists, Caroli
and Benoit, are to challenge you and William to a debate before
the Council. It is to be a trap. You know the law: if you lose the
debate after accepting a challenge, you will be banished"!

"What will be the subject"? "You are to be accused

of Arianism to confuse the religious who remain loyal". Anger
and fear fused in John. Ever since the fourth century a controversy
had raged over the person of Christ. Those who refused to believe
that He was the eternal Son of God were termed Arianists. Peter
Caroli had come to Geneva, saying that he had been a bishop of the
Church of Rome and had been persecuted in Paris for his Reformed faith.
He asked to be appointed a preacher. But Michael Sept had unmasked
him, revealing he had never been a bishop, but was an Anabaptist,
afraid to state his faith, because he knew John Calvin had written
a book against their belief that the soul slept after death. So John
had refused to agree to his appointment as a preacher, and now Caroli
sought revenge. John sighed. "If William agrees, we should
insist on a public debate", he said at length. "There
is more to the conspiracy. Bern demands that the Lord's Supper be
administered here as it used to be, with unleavened bread. Furthermore,
Bern decrees that we must do as we are ordered by the Council,
preach only the word of God and stop meddling in politics"!

"It was always the spirit with Christ; matters such as leavened
or unleavened bread are inconsequential. Geneva must remain a sovereign
state. We will not yield to the demands of Bern"! The
firelight played over Eli's flowing white locks and rugged features.
"Monsieur Favre indicated that if I would co-operate, after you
and William are banished, following the debate, I will be given a
place of influence". "What was your reply to that"?

"That I would rather be banished with two such Christians than

be made the Chief Syndic"! ##

The following morning, as

John entered the Place Molard on his way to visit a sick refugee,
he had a premonition of danger. Then suddenly a group of men and dogs
circled him. He wanted to run, but he knew that if he did, he would
be lost. He stood very still, his heart thumping wildly. On the outskirts
of the rabble the Camaret brothers and Gaspard Favre shook their
fists. "Are you going to comply with the demands of Bern"?
the chinless Jake called. "Arianist"! a rowdy with
a big blob of a nose roared. "Heretic"! John lifted
his hand for silence. "Know this: the ministers will not yield to
the demands of Bern". His voice shook a little. Somebody
heaved a stone. For an instant John was stunned. When he felt
the side of his head, his fingers came away covered with blood. Before
he could duck, another stone struck him. And another. "Let
him be now"! Pierre Ameaux, the gaming-card manufacturer said,
his little pig eyes glaring. "We have taught him a lesson".

The crowd moved back and John started dizzily down the hill. Fists
pummeled him as he staggered forward. Then he slipped and went
down on his hands and knees in the melting snow. At once a bevy of dogs
was snapping and snarling around him. One, more horrible than the
rest, lunged, growling deep in his throat, his hair bristling. With great
difficulty John clambered to his feet and started to run, sweat
pouring down his face.
Standing in the shelter of the tent- a rejected hospital tent
on which the rain now dripped, no longer drumming- Adam watched his
own hands touch the objects on the improvised counter of boards laid
across two beef barrels. There was, of course, no real need to rearrange
everything. A quarter inch this way or that for the hardbake, or
the toffee, or the barley sugar, or the sardines, or the bitters, or
the condensed milk, or the stationery, or the needles- what could it
mean? Adam watched his own hands make the caressing, anxious movement
that, when rain falls and nobody comes, and ruin draws close like
a cat rubbing against the ankles, has been the ritual of stall
vendors, forever. He recognized the gesture. He knew its meaning.
He had seen a dry, old, yellowing hand reach out, with that painful
solicitude, to touch, to rearrange, to shift aimlessly, some object
worth a pfennig. Back in Bavaria he had seen that gesture, and at
that sight his heart had always died within him. On such occasions he
had not had the courage to look at the face above the hand, whatever
face it might be. Now the face was his own. He wondered what
expression, as he made that gesture, was on his face. He wondered if
it wore the old anxiety, or the old, taut stoicism. But there was no
need, he remembered, for his hand to reach out, for his face to show
concern or stoicism. It was nothing to him if rain fell and nobody came.
Then why was he assuming the role- the gesture and the suffering?
What was he expiating? Or was he now taking the role- the gesture
and the suffering- because it was the only way to affirm his
history and identity in the torpid, befogged loneliness of this land.

This was Virginia. He looked out of the tent at the

company street. The rain dripped on the freezing loblolly of the street.
Beyond that misty gray of the rain, he saw the stretching hutment,
low diminutive log cabins, chinked with mud, with doorways a man would
have to crouch to get through, with roofs of tenting laid over boughs
or boards from hardtack boxes, or fence rails, with cranky chimneys
of sticks and dried mud. The chimney of the hut across from him was
surmounted by a beef barrel with ends knocked out. In this heavy air,
however, that device did not seem to help. The smoke from that chimney
rose as sluggishly as smoke from any other, and hung as sadly in the
drizzle, creeping back down along the sopping canvas of the roof.

Over the door was a board with large, inept lettering: HOME
SWEET HOME. This was the hut of Simms Purdew, the hero.
The men were huddled in those lairs. Adam knew the names of some. He
knew the faces of all, hairy or shaven, old or young, fat or thin, suffering
or hardened, sad or gay, good or bad. When they stood about
his tent, chaffing each other, exchanging their obscenities, cursing command
or weather, he had studied their faces. He had had the need to
understand what life lurked behind the mask of flesh, behind the oath,
the banter, the sadness. Once covertly looking at Simms Purdew, the
only man in the world whom he hated, he had seen the heavy, slack,
bestubbled jaw open and close to emit the cruel, obscene banter, and had
seen the pale-blue eyes go watery with whisky and merriment, and suddenly
he was not seeing the face of that vile creature. He was seeing,
somehow, the face of a young boy, the boy Simms Purdew must once
have been, a boy with sorrel hair, and blue eyes dancing with gaiety,
and the boy mouth grinning trustfully among the freckles. In that
moment of vision Adam heard the voice within himself saying: <I
must not hate him, I must not hate him or I shall die>. His
heart suddenly opened to joy. He thought that if once, only
once, he could talk with Simms Purdew, something about his own life,
and all life, would be clear and simple. If Simms Purdew would turn
to him and say: "Adam, you know when I was a boy, it was a funny
thing happened. Lemme tell you now"- If only Simms
Purdew could do that, whatever the thing he remembered and told. It
would be a sign for the untellable, and he, Adam, would understand.

Now, Adam, in the gray light of afternoon, stared across at the

hut opposite his tent, and thought of Simms Purdew lying in there
in the gloom, snoring on his bunk, with the fumes of whisky choking the
air. He saw the sign above the door of the hut: HOME SWEET HOME.
He saw the figure of a man in a poncho coming up the company street,
with an armful of wood. It was Pullen James, the campmate
of Simms Purdew. He carried the wood, carried the water, did the
cooking, cleaning and mending, and occasionally got a kick in the butt
for his pains. Adam watched the moisture flow from the poncho. It
gave the rubberized fabric a dull gleam, like metal. Pullen James humbly
lowered his head, pushed aside the hardtack-box door of the hut,
and was gone from sight. Adam stared at the door and remembered
that Simms Purdew had been awarded the Medal of Honor for gallantry
at Antietam. The street was again empty. The drizzle was
slacking off now, but the light was grayer. With enormous interest,
Adam watched his hands as they touched and shifted the objects on the
board directly before him. Into the emptiness of the street, and his
spirit, moved a form. The form was swathed in an army blanket,
much patched, fastened at the neck with a cord. From under the shapeless
huddle of blanket the feet moved in the mud. The feet wore army
shoes, in obvious disrepair. The head was wrapped in a turban and on
top of the turban rode a great hamper across which a piece of poncho
had been flung. The gray face stared straight ahead in the drizzle.
Moisture ran down the cheeks, gathered at the tip of the nose, and at
the chin. The figure was close enough now for him to see the nose twitching
to dislodge the drop clinging there. The figure stopped and one
hand was perilously freed from the hamper to scratch the nose. Then
the figure moved on. This was one of the Irish women who had
built their own huts down near the river. They did washing. Adam recognized
this one. He recognized her because she was the one who, in
a winter twilight, on the edge of camp, had once stopped him and reached
down her hand to touch his fly. "Slice o' mutton, bhoy"?
she had queried in her soft guttural. "Slice o' mutton"?

Her name was Mollie. They called her Mollie the Mutton, and laughed.
Looking down the street after her, Adam saw that she had again
stopped and again removed one hand from the basket. He could not make
out, but he knew that again she was scratching her nose. Mollie the
Mutton was scratching her nose. The words ran crazily in his
head: <Mollie the Mutton is scratching her nose in the rain>.

Then the words fell into a pattern: "<Mollie the Mutton

is scratching her nose, Scratching her nose in the rain. Mollie the
Mutton is scratching her nose in the rain>".

The pattern would not stop. It came

again and again. He felt trapped in that pattern, in the repetition.

Suddenly he thought he might weep. "What's the matter with

me"? he demanded out loud. He looked wildly around, at the now
empty street, at the mud, at the rain. "Oh, what's the matter with
me"? he demanded. ##

When he had stored his stock in the great

oak chest, locked the two big hasps and secured the additional chain,
tied the fly of the tent, and picked up the cash box, he moved up
the darkening street. He would consign the cash box into the hands of
Jed Hawksworth, then stand by while his employer checked the contents
and the list of items sold. Then he- Then what? He did
not know. His mind closed on that prospect, as though fog had descended
to blot out a valley. Far off, in the dusk, he heard voices
singing, muffled but strong. In one of the huts a group of men were
huddled together, singing. He stopped. He strained to hear. He heard
the words: "Rock of Ages, cleft for me, Let me
hide myself in Thee! Let the water and the blood From Thy riven
side **h" He thought: <I am a Jew from
Bavaria>. He was standing there, he thought, in Virginia,
in the thickening dusk, in a costly greatcoat that had belonged to another
Jew. That other Jew, a young man too, had left that greatcoat
behind, in a rich house, and marched away. He had crossed the river which
now, beyond the woods yonder, was sliding darkly under the mist.
He had plunged into the dark woods beyond. He had died there.
What had that man, that other young Jew, felt as he stood in the twilight
and heard other men, far away, singing together?. Adam
thought of the hutments, regiment after regiment, row after row, the
thousands of huts, stretching away into the night. He thought of the
men, the nameless thousands, huddling in them. He thought of Simms
Purdew snoring on his bunk while Pullen James crouched by the hearth,
skirmishing an undershirt for lice, and a wet log sizzled. He thought
of Simms Purdew, who once had risen at the edge of a cornfield,
a
maniacal scream on his lips, and swung a clubbed musket like a flail
to beat down the swirl of Rebel bayonets about him. He thought
of Simms Purdew rising up, fearless in glory. He felt the sweetness
of pity flood through him, veining his very flesh. Those men, lying
in the huts, they did not know. They did not know who they were or
know their own worth. In the pity for them his loneliness was gone.

Then he thought of Aaron Blaustein standing in his rich house

saying: "God is tired of taking the blame. He is going to let
History take the blame for a while". He thought of the old
man laughing under the glitter of the great chandelier. He thought:
<Only in my heart can I make the world hang together>. ##

Adam rose from the crouch necessary to enter the hut. He saw Mose
squatting by the hearth, breaking up hardtack into a pan. A pot was
boiling on the coals. "Done give Ole Buckra all his money"?
Mose asked softly. Adam nodded. "Yeah", Mose murmured,
"yeah. And look what he done give us". Adam looked
at the pot. "What is it"? he asked. "Chicken", Mose
said, and theatrically licked his lips. "Gre't big fat chicken,
yeah". He licked his lips again. Then: "Yeah. A chicken
with six tits and a tail lak a corkscrew. And hit squealed for
slop". Mose giggled. "Fooled you, huh? It is the same ole same,
tell me hit's name. It is sowbelly with tits on. It is salt po'k.
It is salt po'k and skippers. That po'k, it was so full of
skippers it would jump and run and not come when you say, 'Hoo-pig'.
Had to put my foot on it to hole it down while I cut it up fer
the lob-scuse". He dumped the pan of crumbled hardtack into
the boiling pot of lobscouse. "Good ole lob-scuse", he mumbled,
and stirred the pot. He stopped stirring and looked over his shoulder.
"Know what Ole Buckra et tonight"? he demanded. "Know what
I had to fix fer Ole Him"? Adam shook his head.

"Chicken", Mose said.

She was a child too much a part of her environment, too eager to grow
and learn and experience. Once, they were at Easthampton for the summer
(again, Fritzie said, a good place, even though they were being
robbed).
One soft evening- that marvelous sea-blessed time when the
sun's departing warmth lingers and a smell of spume and wrack haunts
everything- Amy had picked herself off the floor and begun to walk.
Fritzie was on the couch reading; Laura was sitting in an easy chair
about eight feet away. The infant, in white terry-cloth bathrobe,
her face intense and purposeful, had essayed a few wobbly steps toward
her father. "Y'all wanna walk- walk", he said. Then, gently,
he shoved her behind toward Laura. Amy walked- making it halfway
across the cottage floor. She lost not a second, picking herself up
and continuing her pilgrimage to Laura. Then Laura took her gently
and shoved her off again, toward Fritzie: Amy did not laugh- this
was work, concentration, achievement. In a few minutes she was making
the ten-foot hike unaided; soon she was parading around the house,
flaunting her new skill. Some liar's logic, a wisp of optimism
as fragile as the scent of tropical blossoms that came through the
window (a euphoria perhaps engendered by the pill Fritzie had given
her), consoled her for a moment. Amy <had> to be safe, <had> to
come back to them- if only to reap that share of life's experiences
that were her due, if only to give her parents another chance to do
better by her. Through the swathings of terror, she jabbed deceit's
sharp point- Amy would be reborn, a new child, with new parents,
living under new circumstances. The comfort was short-lived, yet she
found herself returning to the assurance whenever her imagination forced
images on her too awful to contemplate without the prop of illusion.
Gazing at her husband's drugged
body, his chest rising and falling in mindless
rhythms, she saw the grandeur of his fictional world, that lush
garden from which he plucked flowers and herbs. She envied him. She
admired him. In the darkness, she saw him stirring. He seemed
to be muttering, his voice surprisingly clear. "Y'all should
have
let me take that money out", Andrus said. "'Nother minute
I'd have been fine. Y'all
should have let me do it". Laura touched
his hand. "Yes, I know, Fritzie. I should have".

#TUESDAY#

The heat intensified on Tuesday. Southern California gasped

and blinked under an autumn hot spell, drier, more enervating, more
laden with man's contrived impurities than the worst days of the summer
past. It could continue this way, hitting 106 and more in the Valley,
Joe McFeeley knew, into October. He and Irvin Moll were sipping
coffee at the breakfast bar. Both had been up since 7:00-
Irv
on the early-morning watch, McFeeley unable to sleep during his four-hour
relief. The night before, they had telephoned the Andrus maid,
Selena Masters, and she had arrived early, bursting her vigorous
presence into the silent house with an assurance that amused McFeeley
and confounded Moll. The latter, thanking her for the coffee, had
winked and muttered, "Sure 'nuff, honey". Selena was the wrong
woman for these crudities. With a hard eye, she informed Moll: "Don't
<sure 'nuff> me, officer. I'm <honey> only to my husband,
understand"? Sergeant Moll understood. The maid was very
black and very energetic, trim in a yellow pique uniform. Her speech
was barren of southernisms; she was one of Eliot Sparling's neutralized
minorities, adopting the rolling ~<R's> and constricted
vowels of Los Angeles. Not seeing her dark intelligent face, one
would have gauged the voice as that of a Westwood Village matron, ten
years out of Iowa. After she had served the detectives coffee and
toast (they politely declined eggs, uncomfortable about their tenancy),
she settled down with a morning newspaper and began reading the stock
market quotations. While she was thus engaged, McFeeley questioned
her about her whereabouts the previous day, any recollections she
had of people hanging around, of overcurious delivery boys or repairmen,
of strange cars cruising the neighborhood. She answered him precisely,
missing not a beat in her scrutiny of the financial reports. Selena
Masters, Joe realized, was her own woman. She was the only kind
of Negro Laura Andrus would want around: independent, unservile,
probably charging double what ordinary maids did for housework- and
doubly efficient. When the parents emerged from the bedroom
a few minutes later, the maid greeted them quietly. "I'm awful sorry
about what's happened", Selena said. "Maybe today'll be
a good-news day". She charged off to the bedrooms. Moll
took his coffee
into the nursery. During the night, a phone company technician
had deadened the bells and installed red blinkers on the phones. Someone
would have to remain in the office continually. McFeeley greeted
the parents, then studied his notebook. He wanted to take the mother
to headquarters at once and start her on the mug file. "Sleep
well"? he asked. Andrus did not answer him. His face was
bloated with drugging, redder than normal. The woman had the glassy
look of an invalid, as if she had not slept at all. "Oh- we managed",
she said. "I'm a little groggy. Did anything happen during
the night"? "Few crank calls", McFeeley said. "A
couple of tips we're running down- nothing promising. We can
expect more of the same. Too bad your number is in the directory".

"Didn't occur to me my child would be kidnaped when I had

it listed", Andrus muttered. He settled on the sofa with his coffee,
warming his hands on the cup, although the room was heavy with heat.

The three had little to say to each other. The previous night's
horror- the absolute failure, overcast with the intrusions of
the press, had left them all with a wan sense of uselessness, of play-acting.
Sipping their coffee, discussing the weather, the day's shopping,
Fritzie's commitments at the network (all of which he would
cancel), they avoided the radio, the morning ~TV news show, even
the front page of the <Santa Luisa Register>, resting on the kitchen
bar. KIDNAPER SPURNS RANSOM; AMY STILL MISSING. Once,
Andrus walked by it, hastily scanned the bold black headline and
the five-column lead of the article (by Duane Bosch, staff correspondent-
age not given), and muttered: "We a buncha national celebrities".

McFeeley told the parents he would escort them to

police headquarters in a half hour. Before that, he wanted to talk to
the neighbors. He did not want to bring the Andruses to the station
house too early- Rheinholdt had summoned a press conference, and he
didn't want them subjected to the reporters again. He could think
of nothing else to tell them: no assurances, no hopeful hints at great
discoveries that day. When the detective left, Andrus phoned his
secretary to cancel his work and to advise the network to get a substitute
director for his current project. Mrs& Andrus was talking to
the
maid, arranging for her to come in every day, instead of the four days
she now worked. Outside, only a handful of reporters remained.
The bulk of the press corps was covering Rheinholdt's conference.
In contrast to the caravan of the previous night, there were only
four cars parked across the street. Two men he did not recognize were
sipping coffee and munching sweet rolls. He did not see Sparling, or
DeGroot, or Ringel, or any of the feverish crew that had so harassed
him twelve hours ago. However, the litter remained, augmented by
several dozen lunchroom suppers. The street cleaner had not yet been
around. One of the reporters called to him: "Anything new,
Lieutenant"? And he ignored him, skirting the parked cars and
walking up the path to the Skopas house. When McFeeley was halfway
to the door, the proprietor emerged- a mountainous, dark man, his
head thick with resiny black hair, his eyes like two of the black olives
he imported in boatloads. McFeeley identified himself. The master
of the house, his nourished face unrevealing, consented to postpone
his departure a few minutes to talk to the detective. Inside,
as soon as Mr& Skopas had disclosed- in a hoarse whisper- the
detective's errand, his family gathered in a huddle, forming a mass
of dark flesh on and around a brocaded sofa which stood at one side of
a baroque fireplace. Flanked by marble urns and alabaster lamps, they
seemed to be posing for a tribal portrait. It was amazing how
they had herded together for protection: an enormous matriarch in
a quilted silk wrapper, rising from the breakfast table; a gross boy
in his teens, shuffling in from the kitchen with a sandwich in his hands;
a girl in her twenties, fat and sullen, descending the marble
staircase;
then all four gathering on the sofa to face the inquisitor.

They answered him in monosyllables, nods, occasionally muttering

in Greek to one another, awaiting the word from Papa, who restlessly
cracked his knuckles, anxious to stuff himself into his white Cadillac
and burst off to the freeway. No, they hadn't seen anyone around;
no, they didn't know the Andrus family; yes, they had read
about the case; yes, they had let some reporters use their phone,
but they would no longer. They offered no opinions, volunteered nothing,
betrayed no emotions. Studying them, McFeeley could not help make
comparison with the Andrus couple. The Skopas people seemed to him
of that breed of human beings whose insularity frees them from tragedy.
He imagined they were the kind whose tax returns were never examined
(if they were, they were never penalized), whose children had no
unhappy romances, whose names never knew scandal. The equation was
simple:
wealth brought them happiness, and their united front to the world
was their warning that they meant to keep everything they had, let
no one in on the secrets. By comparison, Fritzie and Laura Andrus
were quivering fledglings. They possessed no outer fortifications, no
hard shells of confidence; they had enough difficulty getting from
day to day, let alone having an awful crime thrust upon them. Skopas
expressed no curiosity over the case, offered no expression of sympathy,
made no move to escort McFeeley to the door. All four remained
impacted on the sofa until he had left. He had spoken to Mrs&
Emerson the previous day. There remained a family named Kahler,
owners of a two-story Tudor-style house on the south side of the Andrus
home. Their names had not come up in any discussions with Laura,
and he had no idea what they would be like. McFeeley noted the immaculate
lawn and gardens: each blade of grass cropped, bright and firm;
each shrub glazed with good health. The door was answered
by a slender man in his sixties- straight-backed, somewhat clerical
in manner, wearing rimless glasses. When Joe identified himself, he
nodded, unsmiling, and ushered him into a sedate living room. Mrs&
Kahler joined them. She had a dried-out quality- a gray, lean woman,
not unattractive. Both were dressed rather formally. The man wore
a vest and a tie, the woman had on a dark green dress and three strands
of pearls. "Funny thing", Mr& Kahler said, when they
were seated, "when I heard you ringing, I figured it was that guy
down the block, Hausman". McFeeley looked puzzled. Kahler continued:
"I fixed his dog the other day and I guess he's sore,
so I expected him to come barging in". Mr& Kahler went on to explain
how Hausman's fox terrier had been "making" in his flower
beds. The dog refused to be scared off, so Kahler had purchased some
small firecrackers. He would lay in wait in the garage, and when the
terrier came scratching around, he'd let fly with a cherry bomb. "Scared
the hell out of him", Kahler grinned. "I hit him in the
ass once". Both grinned at the detective. "Finally, all I needed
was to throw a little piece of red wood that looked like a firecracker
and that dumb dog would run ki-yi-ing for his life".
In the dim underwater light they dressed and straightened up the room,
and then they went across the hall to the kitchen. She was intimidated
by the stove. He found the pilot light and turned on one of the burners
for her. The gas flamed up two inches high. They found the teakettle
and put water on to boil and then searched through the icebox.
Several sections of a loaf of dark bread; butter; jam; a tiny
cake of ice. In their search for what turned out to be the right breakfast
china but the wrong table silver, they opened every cupboard door
in the kitchen and pantry. While she was settling the teacart, he went
back across the hall to their bedroom, opened one of the suitcases,
and took out powdered coffee and sugar. She appeared with the teacart
and he opened the windows. "Do you want to call Eugene"?

He didn't, but it was not really a question, and so he

left the room, walked down the hall to the front of the apartment, hesitated,
and then knocked lightly on the closed door of the study. A sleepy
voice answered. "Le petit dejeuner", Harold said, in
an accent that did credit to Miss Sloan, his high-school French teacher.
At the same time, his voice betrayed uncertainty about their
being here, and conveyed an appeal to whatever is reasonable, peace-loving,
and dependable in everybody. Since ordinary breakfast-table
conversation was impossible, it was at least something that they were
able to offer Eugene the sugar bowl with their sugar in it, and the
plate of bread and butter, and that Eugene could return the pitcher
of hot milk to them handle first. Eugene put a spoonful of powdered
coffee into his cup and then filled it with hot water. Stirring, he
said: "I am sorry that my work prevents me from doing anything with
you today". They assured him that they did not expect or
need to be entertained. Harold put a teaspoonful of powdered coffee
in
his cup and filled it with hot water, and then, stirring, he sat back
in his chair. The chair creaked. Every time he moved or said something,
the chair creaked again. Eugene was not entirely silent,
or openly rude- unless asking Harold to move to another chair and
placing himself in the fauteuil that creaked so alarmingly was an act
of rudeness. It went right on creaking under his own considerable weight,
and all it needed, Harold thought, was for somebody to fling himself
back in a fit of laughter and that would be the end of it.
Through the open window they heard sounds below in the street: cartwheels,
a tired horse's plodding step, voices. Harold indicated the
photograph on the wall and asked what church the stone sculpture was
in. Eugene told him and he promptly forgot. They passed the marmalade,
the bread, the black-market butter, back and forth. Nothing was said
about hotels or train journeys. Eugene offered Harold his
car, to use at any time he cared to, and when this offer was not accepted,
the armchair creaked. They all three had another cup of coffee.
Eugene was in his pajamas and dressing gown, and on his large feet he
wore yellow Turkish slippers that turned up at the toes. "Ex-cuse
me", he said in Berlitz English, and got up and left them,
to bathe and dress. The first shrill ring of the telephone brought
Harold out into the hall. He realized that he had no idea where
the telephone was. At that moment the bathroom door flew open and
Eugene came out, with his face lathered for shaving, and strode down
the hall, tying the sash of his dressing gown as he went. The telephone
was in the study but the ringing came from the hall. Between the telephone
and the wall plug there was sixty feet of cord, and when the
conversation came to an end, Eugene carried the instrument with him the
whole length of the apartment, to his bathroom, where it rang three
more times while he was shaving and in the tub. Before he left the apartment
he knocked on their door and asked if there was anything he could
do for them. Harold shook his head. "Sabine called a few
minutes ago", Eugene said. "She wants you and Barbara to have
dinner with her tomorrow night". He handed Harold a key to
the front door, and cautioned him against leaving it unlocked while
they were out of the apartment. When enough time had elapsed so
that there was little likelihood of his returning for something he had
forgotten, Harold went out into the hall and stood looking into one
room after another. In the room next to theirs was a huge cradle, of
mahogany, ornately carved and decorated with gold leaf. It was the
most important-looking cradle he had ever seen. Then came their bathroom,
and then a bedroom that, judging by the photographs on the walls,
must belong to ~Mme Cestre. A young woman who looked like Alix,
with her two children. Alix and Eugene on their wedding day. Matching
photographs in oval frames of ~Mme Bonenfant and an elderly man
who must be Alix's grandfather. ~Mme Vienot, considerably younger
and very different. The schoolboy. And a gray-haired man whose
glance- direct, lifelike, and mildly accusing- was contradicted by
the gilt and black frame. It was the kind of frame that is only put
around the photograph of a dead person. Professor Cestre, could it
be? With the metal shutters closed, the dining room was so dark
that it seemed still night in there. One of the drawing-room shutters
was partly open and he made out the shapes of chairs and sofas, which
seemed to be upholstered in brown or russet velvet. The curtains
were of the same material, and there were some big oil paintings- portraits
in the style of Lancret and Boucher. Though, taken
individually, the big rooms were, or seemed to be, square, the apartment
as a whole formed a triangle. The apex, the study where Eugene slept,
was light and bright and airy and cheerful. The window looked out
on the Place Redoute- it was the only window of the apartment that
did. Looking around slowly, he saw a marble fireplace, a desk, a low
bookcase of mahogany with criss-crossed brass wire instead of glass
panes in the doors. The daybed Eugene had slept in, made up now with
its dark-brown velours cover and pillows. The portable record player
with a pile of classical records beside it. Beethoven's Fifth was
the one on top. Da-da-da-dum **h Music could not be Eugene's passion.
Besides, the records were dusty. He tried the doors of the bookcase.
Locked. The titles he could read easily through the criss-crossed
wires: works on theology, astral physics, history, biology, political
science. No poetry. No novels. He moved over to the desk and
stood looking at the papers on it but not touching anything. The clock
on the mantel piece was scandalized and ticked so loudly that he glanced
at it over his shoulder and then quickly left the room. #@#

THE CONCIERGE CALLED OUT to them as they were passing through

the foyer.
Her quarters were on the right as you walked into the building, and
her small front room was clogged with heavy furniture- a big, round,
oak dining table and chairs, a buffet, with a row of unclaimed letters
inserted between the mirror and its frame. The suitcases had come
while they were out, and had been put in their room, the concierge said.

He waited until they were inside the elevator and then said:
"Now what do we do"? "Call the Vouillemont, I
guess". "I guess". Rather than sit around waiting
for the suitcases to be delivered, they had gone sight-seeing. They
went to the Flea Market, expecting to find the treasures of Europe,
and found instead a duplication of that long double row of booths in
Tours. Cheap clothing and junk of every sort, as far as the eye could
see. They looked, even so. Looked at everything. Barbara bought
some cotton aprons, and Harold bought shoestrings. They had lunch
at a sidewalk cafe overlooking the intersection of two broad, busy,
unpicturesque streets, and coming home they got lost in the Metro;
it took them over an hour to get back to the station where they should
have changed, in order to take the line that went to the Place Redoute.
It was the end of the afternoon when he took the huge key out of
his pocket and inserted it into the keyhole. When he opened the door,
there stood Eugene, on his way out of the apartment. He was wearing
sneakers and shorts and an open-collared shirt, and in his hand he carried
a little black bag. He did not explain where he was going, and
they did not ask. Instead, they went on down the hall to their room.

"Do you think he could be having an affair"? Barbara asked,

as they heard the front door close. "Oh no", Harold
said, shocked. "Well, this is France, after all".
"I know, but there must be some other explanation. He's probably
spending the evening with friends". "And for that he needs
a little bag"? They went shopping in the neighborhood,
and bought two loaves of bread with the ration coupons they had been given
in Blois, and some cheese, and a dozen eggs, and a bag of oranges
from a peddler in the Place Redoute- the first oranges they had
seen since they landed. They had Vermouth, sitting in front of a cafe.
When they got home Harold was grateful for the stillness in the apartment,
and thought how, under different circumstances, they might have
stayed on here, in these old-fashioned, high-ceilinged rooms that
reminded him of the Irelands' apartment in the East Eighties. They
could have been perfectly happy here for ten whole days. He
went down the hall to Eugene's bathroom, to turn on the hot-water
heater, and on the side of the tub he saw a pair of blue wool swimming
trunks. He felt them. They were damp. He reached out and felt the
bath towel hanging on the towel rack over the tub. Damp also. He looked
around the room and then called out: "Come here, quick"?
"What is it"? Barbara asked, standing in the doorway. "I've
solved the mystery of the little bag. There it is **h and there
is what was in it. But where do people go swimming in Paris?
That boat in the river, maybe". "What boat"? "There's
a big boat anchored near the Place de la Concorde, with
a swimming pool in it- didn't you notice it? But if he has time
to go swimming, he had time to be with us". She looked at
him in surprise. "I know", he said, reading her mind.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with you". "It's

because we are in France", he said, "and know so few people.
So something like this matters more than it would at home. Also,
he was so nice when he <was> nice". "All because I didn't
feel like dancing". "I don't think it was that, really".

"Then what was it"? "I don't know. I

wish I did. The tweed coat, maybe. The thing about Eugene is that
he's very proud". And the thing about hurt feelings, the
wet bathing suit pointed out, is that the person who has them is not quite
the innocent party he believes himself to be. For instance- what
about all those people Harold Rhodes went toward unhesitatingly,
as if this were the one moment they would ever have together, their one
chance of knowing each other? Fortunately, the embarrassing
questions raised by objects do not need to be answered, or we would
all have to go sleep in the open fields. And in any case, answers may
clarify but they do not change anything.
**h he brought with him a mixture of myrrh and aloes, of about a hundred
pounds' weight. They took Jesus's body, then, and wrapped it
in winding-clothes with the spices; that is how the Jews prepare a
body for burial. Listed as present at the Descent were Mary,
Mary's sister, Mary Magdalene, John, Joseph of Arimathea, Nicodemus.
Search as he might, he could find no place where the Bible
spoke of a moment when Mary could have been alone with Jesus. Mostly
the scene was crowded with mourners, such as the dramatic Dell'Arca
Lamentation in Bologna, where the grief-stricken spectators had
usurped Mary's last poignant moment. In his concept there could
be no one else present. His first desire was to create a
mother and son alone in the universe. When might Mary have had that
moment to hold her child on her lap? Perhaps after the soldiers had
laid him on the ground, while Joseph of Arimathea was at Pontius Pilate's
asking for Christ's body, Nicodemus was gathering his mixture
of myrrh and aloes, and the others had gone home to mourn. Those
who saw his finished Pieta would take the place of the biblical witnesses.
They would feel what Mary was undergoing. There would be no
halos, no angels. These would be two human beings, whom God had chosen.

He felt close to Mary, having spent so long concentrating

on the beginning of her journey. Now she was intensely alive, anguished;
her son was dead. Even though he would later be resurrected,
he was at this moment dead indeed, the expression on his face reflecting
what he had gone through on the cross. In his sculpture therefore
it would not be possible for him to project anything of what Jesus felt
for his mother; only what Mary felt for her son. Jesus' inert
body would be passive, his eyes closed. Mary would have to carry the
human communication. This seemed right to him. It was a relief
to shift in his mind to technical problems. Since his Christ was
to be life size, how was Mary to hold him on her lap without the relationship
seeming ungainly? His Mary would be slender of limb and
delicate of proportion, yet she must hold this full-grown man as securely
and convincingly as she would a child. There was only one
way to accomplish this: by design, by drawing diagrams and sketches
in which he probed the remotest corner of his mind for creative ideas
to carry his concept. He started by making free sketches to loosen
up his thinking so that images would appear on paper. Visually,
these approximated what he was feeling within himself. At the same time
he started walking the streets, peering at the people passing or shopping
at the stalls, storing up fresh impressions of what they looked
like, how they moved. In particular he sought the gentle, sweet-faced
nuns, with head coverings and veils coming to the middle of their foreheads,
remembering their expressions until he reached home and set them
down on paper. Discovering that draperies could be designed
to serve structural purposes, he began a study of the anatomy of folds.
He improvised as he went along, completing a life-size clay figure,
then bought yards of an inexpensive material from a draper, wet the
lightweight cloth in a basin and covered it over with clay that Argiento
brought from the bank of the Tiber, to the consistency of thick
mud. No fold could be accidental, each turn of the drapery had to serve
organically, to cover the Madonna's slender legs and feet so that
they would give substantive support to Christ's body, to intensify
her inner turmoil. When the cloth dried and stiffened, he saw what
adjustments had to be made. "So that's sculpture", commented
Argiento wryly, when he had sluiced down the floor for a week, "making
mud pies". Michelangelo grinned. "See, Argiento,
if you control the way these folds are bunched, like this, or made to
flow, you can enrich the body attitudes. They can have as much tactile
appeal as flesh and bone". He went into the Jewish quarter,
wanting to draw Hebraic faces so that he could reach a visual understanding
of how Christ might have looked. The Jewish section was
in Trastevere, near the Tiber at the church of San Francesco a Ripa.
The colony had been small until the Spanish Inquisition of 1492
drove many Jews into Rome. Here, for the most part, they were well
treated, as a "reminder of the Old Testament heritage of Christianity";
many of their gifted members were prominent in the Vatican
as physicians, musicians, bankers. The men did not object to
his sketching them while they went about their work, but no one could
be persuaded to come to his studio to pose. He was told to ask for
Rabbi Melzi at the synagogue on Saturday afternoon. Michelangelo found
the rabbi in the room of study, a gentle old man with a white beard
and luminous grey eyes, robed in black gabardine with a skullcap on
his head. He was reading from the Talmud with a group of men from his
congregation. When Michelangelo explained why he had come, Rabbi
Melzi replied gravely: "The Bible forbids us to bow down
to or to make graven images. That is why our creative people give their
time to literature, not to painting or sculpture". "But,
Rabbi Melzi, you don't object to others creating works of art"?

"Not at all. Each religion has its own tenets".

"I am carving a Pieta from white Carrara marble. I wish to make

Jesus an authentic Jew. I cannot accomplish this if you will not
help me". The rabbi said thoughtfully, "I would not want
my people to get in trouble with the Church". "I am working
for the Cardinal of San Dionigi. I'm sure he would approve".

"What kind of models would you prefer"? "Workmen.

In their mid-thirties. Not bulky laborers, but sinewy men. With
intelligence. And sensitivity". Rabbi Melzi smiled at
him with infinitely old but merry eyes. "Leave me your address.
I will send you the best the quarter has to offer". Michelangelo
hurried to Sangallo's solitary bachelor room with his sketches,
asked the architect to design a stand which would simulate the
seated Madonna. Sangallo studied the drawings and improvised a trestle
couch. Michelangelo bought some scrap lumber. Together he and Argiento
built the stand, covering it with blankets. His first
model arrived at dusk. He hesitated for a moment when Michelangelo asked
him to disrobe, so Michelangelo gave him a piece of toweling to
wrap around his loins, led him to the kitchen to take off his clothes.
He then draped him over the rough stand, explained that he was supposed
to be recently dead, and was being held on his mother's lap. The
model quite plainly thought Michelangelo crazy; only the instructions
from his rabbi kept him from bolting. But at the end of the sitting,
when Michelangelo showed him the quick, free drawings, with the
mother roughed in, holding her son, the model grasped what Michelangelo
was after, and promised to speak to his friends **h. He worked for
two hours a day with each model sent by the rabbi. Mary presented
quite a different problem. Though this sculpture must take place
thirty-three
years after her moment of decision, he could not conceive
of her as a woman in her mid-fifties, old, wrinkled, broken in body and
face by labor or worry. His image of the Virgin had always been that
of a young woman, even as had his memory of his mother. Jacopo
Galli introduced him into several Roman homes. Here he sketched,
sitting in their flowing gowns of linen and silk, young girls not yet
twenty, some about to be married, some married a year or two. Since
the Santo Spirito hospital had taken only men, he had had no experience
in the study of female anatomy; but he had sketched the women of
Tuscany in their fields and homes. He was able to discern the body
lines of the Roman women under their robes. He spent concentrated
weeks putting his two figures together: a Mary who would be young
and sensitive, yet strong enough to hold her son on her lap; and
a Jesus who, though lean, was strong even in death **h a look he remembered
well from his experience in the dead room of Santo Spirito.
He drew toward the composite design from his meticulously accurate memory,
without need to consult his sketches. Soon he was ready
to go into a three-dimensional figure in clay. Here he would have free
expression because the material could be moved to distort forms. When
he wanted to emphasize, or get greater intensity, he added or subtracted
clay. Next he turned to wax because there was a similarity of
wax to marble in tactile quality and translucence. He respected each
of these approach techniques, and kept them in character: his quill
drawings had a scratchiness, suggesting skin texture; the clay he used
plastically to suggest soft moving flesh, as in an abdomen, in a reclining
torso; the wax he smoothed over to give the body surface an
elastic pull. Yet he never allowed these models to become fixed in his
mind; they remained rough starting points. When carving he was charged
with spontaneous energy; too careful or detailed studies in clay
and wax would have glued him down to a mere enlarging of his model.

The true surge had to be inside the marble itself. Drawing and
models were his thinking. Carving was action.

#10.#

The arrangement
with Argiento was working well, except that sometimes Michelangelo
could not figure who was master and who apprentice. Argiento had
been trained so rigorously by the Jesuits that Michelangelo was unable
to change his habits: up before dawn to scrub the floors, whether
they were dirty or not; water boiling on the fire for washing laundry
every day, the pots scoured with river sand after each meal.

"Argiento, this is senseless", he complained, not liking to work

on the wet floors, particularly in cold weather. "You're too clean.
Scrub the studio once a week. That's enough". "No",
said Argiento stolidly. "Every day. Before dawn. I was taught".

"And God help anyone who tries to unteach you"!

grumbled Michelangelo; yet he knew that he had nothing to grumble
about, for Argiento made few demands on him. The boy was becoming acquainted
with the <contadini> families that brought produce into Rome.
On Sundays he would walk miles into the <campagna> to visit with
them, and in particular to see their horses. The one thing he missed
from his farm in the Po Valley was the animals; frequently he would
take his leave of Michelangelo by announcing: "Today
I go see the horses". It took a piece of bad luck to show
Michelangelo that the boy was devoted to him. He was crouched over his
anvil in the courtyard getting his chisels into trim, when a splinter
of steel flew into his eye and imbedded itself in his pupil. He stumbled
into the house, eyes burning like fire. Argiento made him lie
down on the bed, brought a pan of hot water, dipped some clean white linen
cloth and applied it to extract the splinter. Though the pain was
considerable Michelangelo was not too concerned. He assumed he could
blink the splinter out. But it would not come. Argiento never left
his side, keeping the water boiled, applying hot compresses throughout
the night. By the second day Michelangelo began to worry;
and by the second night he was in a state of panic: he could see nothing
out of the afflicted eye. At dawn Argiento went to Jacopo Galli.
Galli arrived with his family surgeon, Maestro Lippi. The surgeon
carried a cage of live pigeons. He told Argiento to take a bird
out of the cage, cut a large vein under its wing, let the blood gush
into Michelangelo's injured eye. The surgeon came back at
dusk, cut the vein of a second pigeon, again washed out the eye.

Beth was very still and her breath came in small jerking gasps.
The thin legs twitched convulsively once, then Kate felt the little
body stiffening in her arms and heard one strangled sound. The scant
flesh grew cool beneath her frantic hands. The child was gone.

When Juanita awoke, Kate was still rocking the dead child, still
crooning in disbelief, "No, no, oh, <no!>" They put
Kate to bed and wired Jonathan and sent for the young Presbyterian
minister. He sat beside Kate's bed with the others throughout the
morning, talking, talking of God's will, while Kate lay staring angrily
at him. When he told her God had called the child to Him, she
rejected his words rebelliously. Few of the neighbors came, but
Mrs& Tussle came, called by tragedy. "It always comes in
threes", she sighed heavily. "Trouble never comes but in threes".

They held the funeral the next morning from the crossroads
church and buried the little box in the quiet family plot. Kate moved
through all the preparations and services in a state of bewilderment.
She would not accept the death of such a little child. "God called
her to Him", the minister had said. God would not <do> that,
Kate thought stubbornly. Jonathan's letter came, as she knew
it would, and he had accepted their child's death as another judgment
from God against both Kate and himself. In blind panic of grief
she accepted Jonathan's dictum, and believed in her desperation that
she had been cursed by God. She held Jonathan's letter, his words
burning like a brand, and knew suddenly that the bonds between them
were severed. She had nothing left but her duty to his land and his
son. Joel came and sat mutely with her, sharing her pain and anguish,
averting his eyes from the ice packs on her bosom. Juanita and
Mrs& Tussle kept Kate in bed a week until her milk dried. When
she returned to life in the big house she felt shriveled of all emotion
save dedication to duty. She disciplined herself daily to do what
must be done. She had even steeled herself to keep Juanita upstairs
in the nurse's room off the empty nursery, although the girl tried
to insist on moving back to the quarters to spare Kate remembrance of
the baby's death. Juanita drooped about the place, wearing
a haunted, brooding look, which Kate attributed to the baby's death,
until the day a letter came for her addressed to "Miss Juanita Fitzroy",
bearing a Grafton postmark. Seeing the slanting hand, Kate
knew uneasily that it was from the Yankee colonel. The Federal
forces had taken Parkersburg and Grafton from the Rebels and were moving
to take all the mountains. Kate tried to contain her curiosity
and foreboding at what the letter portended, at what involvement existed
for Juanita. Uncle Randolph and Joel had replanted the bottom
lands with difficulty, for more of the slaves, including Annie,
had sneaked off when the soldiers broke camp. Joel worked like a field
hand in the afternoons after school. He had been at lessons in the
schoolhouse since they returned from Harpers Ferry. Kate felt she
had deserted the boy in her own loss. She loved him and missed his company.

Uncle Randolph had been riding out every evening on some

secret business of his own. What it was Kate could not fathom. He
claimed to be visiting the waterfront saloon at the crossroads to play
cards and drink with his cronies, but Kate had not smelled brandy
on him since Mrs& Lattimer's funeral. Joel knew what he was about,
however. "You're gonna get caught", she heard Joel
say to Uncle Randolph by the pump one morning. "Not this old
fox", chuckled Uncle Randolph. "Everybody knows I'm just
a harmless, deaf old man who takes to drink. I aim to keep a little whisky
still back in the ridge for my pleasure". "Whisky still,
my foot", said Joel. "You're back there riding with the
guerrillas, the Moccasin Rangers". "Hush", said Uncle
Randolph, smiling, "or I'll give you another black eye". He
patted the eye Joel had had blackened in a fight over being Rebel at
the crossroads some days back. Kate had no idea what they were
talking of, although she had seen the blue lights and strange fires
burning and winking on the ridges at night, had heard horsemen on the
River Road and hill trails through the nights till dawn. Stranger,
Uncle Randolph began riding home nights with a jug strapped to his saddle,
drunkenly singing "Old Dan Tucker" at the top of his voice.
Hearing his voice ring raucously up from the road, Kate would await
him anxiously and watch perplexed as he walked into the house, cold
sober. What he was about became clear to her with the circulation of
another broadside proclamation by General McClellan, threatening
reprisals against Rebel guerrillas. She was taken up in worry for the
reckless old man. Kate drew more and more on her affection for
Joel through the hot days of summer work. She had taken him out of
the schoolhouse and closed the school for the summer, after she saw
Miss Snow crack Joel across the face with a ruler for letting a snake
loose in the schoolroom. Kate had walked past the school on her morning
chores and had seen the whole incident, had seen Joel's burning
humiliation before Miss Snow's cold, bespectacled wrath. He had
the hardest pains of growing before him now, as he approached twelve.
These would be his hardest years, she knew, and he missed his father
desperately. She tried to find some way to draw him out, to
help him. Whenever she found time, she went blackberry picking with
him, and they would come home together, mouths purple, arms and faces
scratched, tired enough to forget grief for another day. He tended the
new
colts Beau had sired. He helped Kate and Juanita enlarge the flower
garden in the side yard, where they sometimes sat in the still evenings
watching the last fat bees working against the summer's purple dusk.

No one went much to the crossroads now except Uncle Randolph.

They stayed in their own world on the bluff, waiting for letters
and the peddler, bringing
the news. Jonathan wrote grimly of the destruction
of Harpers Ferry before they abandoned it; of their first
engagement at Falling Waters after Old Jack's First Brigade
had destroyed all the rolling stock of the ~B+O Railroad. The men
were restive, he wrote, ready to take the battle to the enemy as Jackson
wished. The peddler came bawling his wares and told them
of the convention in Wheeling, Which had formed a new state government
by declaring the government at Richmond in the east illegal because
they were traitors. Dangling his gaudy trinkets before them, he told
of the Rebel losses in the mountains, at Cheat and Rich mountains
both, and the Federal march on Beverly. "Cleaned all them
Rebs out'n the hills, they did! They won't never git over inter
loyal western Virginia, them traitors! The Federals is making
everybody take the oath of loyalty around these parts too", he crowed.

After he had gone, Kate asked Uncle Randolph proudly, "Would

you take their oath"? And the old man had given a
sly and wicked laugh and said, "Hell, yes! I think I've taken
it about fifty times already"! winking at Joel's look of shock.

Her mother wrote Kate of her grief at the death of Kate's

baby and at Jonathan's decision to go with the South "And, dear
Kate", she wrote, "poor Dr& Breckenridge's son Robert
is now organizing a militia company to go South, to his good father's
sorrow. Maj& Anderson of Fort Sumter is home and recruiting volunteers
for the U&S& Army. In spite of the fact that the state
legislature voted us neutral, John Hunt Morgan is openly flying
the Confederate flag over his woolen factory"! Rumor of a
big battle spread like a grassfire up the valley. Accounts were garbled
at the telegraph office when they sent old George down to Parkersburg
for the news. "All dey know down dere is it were at Manassas
Junction and it were a <big> fight", the old man told them.

In the next few days they had cause to rejoice. It had been
a big battle, and the Confederate forces had won. Jonathan and Ben
were not on the lists of the dead or on that of the missing. Kate and
Mrs& Tussle waited for letters anxiously. Joel went to the crest
of a hill behind the house and lit an enormous victory bonfire to celebrate.
When Kate hurried in alarm to tell him to put it out, she
saw other dots of flames among the western Virginia hills from the few
scattered fires of the faithful. They all prayed now that the North
would realize that peace must come, for Virginia had defended her land
victoriously. The week after Manassas the sound of horses
in the yard brought Kate up in shock from an afternoon's rest when
she saw the Federal soldiers from her upstairs window. They had already
lost most of their corn, she thought. Were they to be insulted again
because of the South's great victory? She remembered McClellan's
last proclamation as she hurried fearfully down the stairs.

At the landing she saw Juanita, her face flushed pink with excitement,
run down the hall from the kitchen to the front door. Juanita
stopped just inside the open door, her hand to her mouth. As Kate
came swiftly down the stairs to the hall she saw Colonel Marsh framed
in the doorway, his face set in the same vulnerable look Juanita wore.
Kate greeted him gravely, uneasy with misgivings at his visit.

"What brings you here again, Colonel Marsh"? she asked,

taking him and Juanita into the parlor where the shutters were closed
against the afternoon sun. "I stopped to say goodbye, Mrs&
Lattimer, and to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your baby.
I wish our doctor could have saved her". "It was a terrible
loss to me", said Kate quietly, feeling the pain twist again
at the mention, knowing now that Juanita must have written to him at
Grafton. "Where will you go now that you're leaving Parkersburg"?
she asked him, seeing Juanita's eyes grow bleak. "As
you know, General McClellan has been occupying Beverly. He has
notified me that he has orders to go to Washington to take over the
Army of the Potomac. I am to go to Washington to serve with him".

"When are you to leave"? Kate asked, watching them both

now anxiously. Their eyes betrayed too much of their emotions, she
thought sadly. "Tomorrow. Would you permit Juanita to walk
about the grounds with me for a short spell, Mrs& Lattimer"?

"Stay here in the parlor where it's cool", she said, trying
to be calm. It would be better for Joel and Uncle Randolph and
Mrs& Tussle not to see them. Kate went back and reminded
the kitchen women of the supper preparations. Then she took iced lemonade
to Marsh's young aide where he sat in the cool of the big trees
around the flower garden. When Marsh called to his aide and the pair
rode off down the River Road where the gentians burned blue, Juanita
was shaken and trying not to cry. She sought Kate out upstairs,
her lips trembling. "He wants me to go with him tomorrow",
she told Kate. "What do you want to do"? Kate asked,
uneasy at the gravity of the girl's dilemma. "I could go
with him. He knows me as your niece, which, of course, I am. But I
am a slave! You <own> me. It's your decision", said Juanita,
holding her face very still, trying to contain the bitterness of her
voice as she enunciated her words too distinctly. "No, the
decision is yours. I have held your papers of manumission since I
married Mr& Lattimer".

The red glow from the cove had died out of the sky. The two in
the bed knew each other as old people know the partners with whom they
have shared the same bed for many years, and they needed to say no
more. The things left unsaid they both felt deeply, and with a sigh they
fell back on the well-stuffed pillows. Anita put out the remaining
candles with a long snuffer, and in the smell of scented candlewick,
the comforting awareness of each other's bodies, the retained pattern
of dancers and guests remembered, their minds grew numb and then empty
of images. They slept- Mynheer with a marvelously high-pitched
snoring, the damn seahorse ivory teeth watching him from a bedside table.
##
In the ballroom below, the dark had given way to moonlight
coming in through the bank of French windows. It was a delayed moon,
but now the sky had cleared of scudding black and the stars sugared
the silver-gray sky. Martha Schuyler, old, slow, careful of foot, came
down the great staircase, dressed in her best lace-drawn black silk,
her jeweled shoe buckles held forward. "Well, I'm here
at last", she said, addressing the old portraits on the walls. "I
don't hear the music. I am getting deaf, I must admit it".

She came to the ballroom and stood on the two carpeted steps that
led down to it. "Where is everyone? I say, where is everyone?
Peter, you lummox, you've forgot to order the musicians".
She stood there, a large old woman, smiling at the things she would
say to him in the morning, this big foolish baby of a son. There were
times now, like this, when she lost control of the time count and moved
freely back and forth into three generations. Was it a birthday ball?
When Peter had reached his majority at eighteen? Or was it
her own first ball as mistress of this big house, a Van Rensselaer bride
from way upstate near Albany, from Rensselaerwyck. And this handsome
booby, staring and sweating, was he her bridegroom? Martha
picked up the hem of her gown and with eyes closed she slowly began
to dance a stately minuet around the ballroom. ##

David Cortlandt
was tired beyond almost the limits of his flesh. He had ridden
hard from Boston, and he was not used to horseback. Now, driving the
horse and sulky borrowed from Mynheer Schuyler, he felt as if every
bone was topped by burning oil and that every muscle was ready to dissolve
into jelly and leave his big body helpless and unable to move.

The road leading south along the river was shaded with old trees,
and in the moonlight the silvery landscape was like a setting for trolls
and wood gods rather than the Hudson River Valley of his boyhood
memories. He slapped the reins on the back of the powerful gray horse
and held on as the sulky's wheels hit a pothole and came out with
a jolt and went on. He would cross to Manhattan, to Harlem Heights,
before morning. There a certain farmhouse was a station for the
Sons of Liberty. He would send on by trusted messenger the dispatches
with their electrifying news. And he would sleep, sleep, and never
think of roads and horses' sore haunches, of colonial wars.
Strange how everything here fitted back into his life, even if he had
been away so long. Mynheer, Sir Francis, the valley society, the very
smell of the river on his right purling along to the bay past fish
weirs and rocks, and ahead the sleepy ribbon of moon-drenched road. A
mist was walking on the water, white as cotton, but with a blending
and merging grace. Ahead there was a stirring of sudden movement
at a crossroads. David reached for the pair of pistols in the saddlebags
at his feet. He pulled out one of them and cocked it. A strange
wood creature came floating up from a patch of berry bushes. It was
a grotesque hen, five or six feet tall. It had the features of a man
bewhiskered by clumps of loose feathers. It ran, this apocalyptic beast,
on two thin legs, and its wings- were they feathered arms?-
flapped as it ran. Its groin was bloody. Black strips of skin hung
from it. The horse shied at the dreadful thing and flared its
nostrils. David took a firm hand with it. The creature in feathers
looked around and David saw the mad eyes, glazed with an insane fear.
The ungainly bird thing ran away, and to David its croaking sounded
like the crowing of a tormented rooster. Then it was gone. He drove
on, wary and shaken. The Sons were out tonight.
#CHAPTER 10#

New
York lay bleaching in the summer sun, and the morning fish hawk, flying
in the heated air, saw below him the long triangular wedge of Manhattan
Island. It was thickly settled by fifteen thousand citizens
and laid out into pig-infested streets, mostly around the Battery, going
bravely north to Wall Street, but giving up and becoming fields
and farms in the region of Harlem Heights. From there it looked across
at Westchester County and the Hudson River where the manor houses,
estates, and big farms of the original (non-Indian) landowners
began. On the east side of the island of Manhattan the indifferent
hawk knew the East River that connected New York Bay with Long
Island Sound. On the western tip of Long Island protruded Brooklyn
Heights. It commanded a view over Manhattan and the harbor.
A fringe of housing and gardens bearded the top of the heights, and
behind it were sandy roads leading past farms and hayfields. Husbandry
was bounded by snake-rail fences, and there were grazing cattle. On
the shores north and south, the fishers and mooncursers- smugglers-
lived along the churning Great South Bay and the narrow barrier
of sand, Fire Island. The morning hawk, hungry for any eatable,
killable, digestible item, kept his eyes on the ring of anchored ships
that lay off the shores in the bay, sheltered by the Jersey inlets.
They often threw tidbits overboard. The larger ships were near Paulus
Hook, already being called, by a few, Jersey City. These were
the ships of His Majesty's Navy, herding the hulks of the East
Indies merchants and the yachts and ketches of the loyalists. The
news of battle on Breed's Hill had already seeped through, and New
York itself was now left in the hands of the local Provincial Congress.
The fish hawk, his wings not moving, circled and glided lower.
The gilt sterns of the men-of-war becoming clearer to him, the sides
of the wooden sea walls alternately painted yellow and black, the bronze
cannon at the ports. The captain's gig of H&M&S& <Mercury>
was being rowed to H&M&S& <Neptune>. ##

On shore
"the freed slaves to despotism"- the town dwellers- watched
the ships and waited. The <chevaux de frise>, those sharp stakes
and barriers around the fort at the Battery, pointed to a conflict between
the town and sea power rolling in glassy swells as the tide came
in. Across the bay the Palisades were heavy in green timber; their
rock paths led down to the Hudson. Below in the open bay facing Manhattan
was Staten Island, gritty with clam shells and mud flats behind
which nested farms, cattle barns, and berry thickets. Along Wappinger
Creek in Dutchess County, past the white church at Fishkill,
past Verplanck's Point on the east bank of the Hudson, to the white
salt-crusted roads of the Long Island Rockaways there was a watching
and an activity of preparing for something explosive to happen.
Today, tomorrow, six months, even perhaps a year **h The fish
hawk flew on and was lost from sight. The British ships rolled at
anchor, sent out picket boats and waited for orders from London. Waited
for more ships, more lobster-backed infantry, and asked <what>
was to be done with a war of rebellion? ##

David Cortlandt, having

slept away a day and a night, came awake in a plank farmhouse on
the Harlem River near Spuyten Duyvil. He looked out through windowpanes
turned a faint violet by sun and weather, looked out at King's
Bridge toward Westchester. The road seemed animated with a few more
wagons than usual; a carriage raising up the choking June dust,
and beyond, in a meadow, a local militia company drilling with muskets,
Kentuck' rifles, every kind of horse pistol, old sword, or cutlass.

The wraith-like events of the last few days flooded David's

mind and he rubbed his unshaved chin and felt again the ache in his
kidneys caused by his saddle odyssey from Boston. Pensive, introspective,
he ached. He had sent the dispatches downtown to the proper
people and had slept. Now there was more to do. Orders not written down
had to be transmitted to the local provincial government. He scratched
his mosquito-plagued neck. From the saddlebags, hung on
a Hitchcock chair, David took out a good English razor, a present from
John Hunter. He found tepid water in a pitcher and a last bit of
soap, and he lathered his face and stood stropping the razor on his
broad leather belt, its buckle held firm by a knob of the bedpost **h.
He hoped he was free of self-deception. Here he was, suddenly
caught up in the delirium of a war, in the spite and calumny of Whigs
and Tories. There would be great need soon for his skill as surgeon,
but somehow he had not planned to use his knowledge merely for war.
David Cortlandt had certain psychic intuitions that this rebellion
was not wholly what it appeared on the surface. He knew that many were
using it for their own ends. But it did not matter. He stropped the
razor slowly; what mattered was that a new concept of Americans was
being born. That some men did not want it he could understand. The
moral aridity of merchants made them loyal usually to their ledgers.
Yet some, like Morris Manderscheid, would bankrupt themselves for
the new ideas. Unique circumstances would test us all, he decided. Injury
and ingratitude would occur. No doubt John Hancock would do well
now; war was a smugglers' heaven. And what of that poor tarred
and feathered wretch he had seen on the road driving down from Schuyler's?
Things like that would increase rather than be done away
with. One had to believe in final events or one was stranded in the abyss
of nothing. He saw with John Hunter now that the perfectability
of man was a dream. Life was a short play of tenebrous shadows. David
began to shave with great sweeping strokes. Time plays an
essential part in our mortality, and suddenly for no reason he could imagine
(or admit) the image of Peg laughing filled his mind- so desirable,
so lusty, so full of nuances of pleasure and joy. He drove sensual
patterns off, carefully shaving his long upper lip. It is harder,
he muttered, to meditate on man (or woman) than on God. David
finished shaving, washed his face clean of lather, and combed and
retied his hair. He was proud that he had never worn a wig. More and
more of the colonials were wearing their own hair and not using powder.
He felt cheerful again, refreshed; presentable in his wide-cut brown
suit, the well-made riding boots. It is so easy to falsify
sentiment **h. In the meadow below, militia officers shouted at their
men and on King's Bridge two boys sat fishing. The future would
happen; he did not have to hurry it by thinking too much. A man could
be tossed outside the dimension of time by a stray bullet these days.
He began to pack the saddlebags. <And all this too shall pass
away:> it came to him out of some dim corner of memory from a church
service when he was a boy- yes, in a white church with a thin spur
steeple in the patriarchal Hudson Valley, where a feeling of plenitude
was normal in those English-Dutch manors with their well-fed squires.
Burly leathered men and wrinkled women in drab black rags carried on
in a primitive way, almost unchanged from feudal times. Peasants puzzled
Andrei. He wondered how they could go on in poverty, superstition,
ignorance, with a complete lack of desire to make either their land
or their lives flourish. Andrei remembered a Bathyran meeting
long ago. Tolek Alterman had returned from the colonies in Palestine
and, before the national leadership, exalted the miracles of drying
up swamps and irrigating the desert. A fund-raising drive to buy tractors
and machinery was launched. Andrei remembered that his own reaction
had been one of indifference. Had he found the meaning too
late? It aggravated him. The land of the Lublin Uplands was rich,
but no one seemed to care. In the unfertile land in Palestine humans
broke their backs pushing will power to the brink. He had
sat beside Alexander Brandel at the rostrum of a congress of Zionists.
All of them were there in this loosely knit association of diversified
ideologies, and each berated the other and beat his breast for
his own approaches. When Alexander Brandel rose to speak, the hall
became silent. "I do not care if your beliefs take you along
a path of religion or a path of labor or a path of activism. We are
here because all our paths travel a blind course through a thick forest,
seeking human dignity. Beyond the forest all our paths merge into
a single great highway which ends in the barren, eroded hills of Judea.
This is our singular goal. How we travel through the forest is for
each man's conscience. Where we end our journey is always the same.
We all seek the same thing through different ways- an end to this
long night of two thousand years of darkness and unspeakable abuses
which will continue to plague us until the Star of David flies over
Zion". This was how Alexander Brandel expressed pure Zionism.
It had sounded good to Andrei, but he did not believe it. In his
heart he had no desire to go to Palestine. He loathed the idea of
drying up swamps or the chills of malaria or of leaving his natural birthright.

Before he went into battle Andrei had told Alex, "I

only want to be a Pole. Warsaw is my city, not Tel Aviv".

And now Andrei sat on a train on the way to Lublin and wondered
if he was not being punished for his lack of belief. Warsaw! He
saw the smug eyes of the Home Army chief, Roman, and all the
Romans and
the faces of the peasants who held only hatred for him. They had let
this black hole of death in Warsaw's heart exist without a cry of
protest. Once there had been big glittering rooms where Ulanys
bowed and kissed the ladies' hands as they flirted from behind their
fans. Warsaw! Warsaw! "Miss Rak. I am a
Jew". Day by day, week by week, month by month, the betrayal
gnawed at Andrei's heart. He ground his teeth together. I hate
Warsaw, he said to himself. I hate Poland and all the goddamned mothers'
sons of them. All of Poland is a coffin. The terrible
vision of the ghetto streets flooded his mind. What matters now?
What is beyond this fog? Only Palestine, and I will never live to
see Palestine because I did not believe. By late afternoon
the train inched into the marshaling yards in the railhead at Lublin,
which was filled with lines of cars poised to pour the tools of war
to the Russian front. At a siding, another train which was a
familiar sight these days. Deportees. Jews. Andrei's skilled eye
sized them up. They were not Poles. He guessed by their appearance
that they were Rumanians. He walked toward the center of the
city to keep his rendezvous with Styka. Of all the places in Poland,
Andrei hated Lublin the most. The Bathyrans were all gone. Few
of the native Jews who had lived in Lublin were still in the ghetto.

From the moment of the occupation Lublin became a focal point.

He and Ana watched it carefully. Lublin generally was the forerunner
of what would happen elsewhere. Early in 1939, Odilo Globocnik,
the Gauleiter of Vienna, established ~SS headquarters for all
of Poland. The Bathyrans ran a check on Globocnik and had only to
conclude that he was in a tug of war with Hans Frank and the civilian
administrators. Globocnik built the Death's-Head Corps.
Lublin was the seed of action for the "final solution" of the Jewish
problem. As the messages from Himmler, Heydrich, and Eichmann
came in through Alfred Funk, Lublin's fountainhead spouted.

A bevy of interlacing lagers, work camps, concentration camps erupted

in the area. Sixty thousand Jewish prisoners of war disappeared
into Lublin's web. Plans went in and out of Lublin, indicating
German confusion. A tale of a massive reservation in the Uplands to
hold several million Jews **h A tale of a plan to ship all Jews to
the island of Madagascar **h Stories of the depravity of the guards
at Globocnik's camps struck a chord of terror at the mere mention
of their names. Lipowa 7, Sobibor, Chelmno, Poltawa, Belzec, Krzywy-Rog,
Budzyn, Krasnik. Ice baths, electric shocks, lashings, wild
dogs, testicle crushers. The Death's-Head Corps took in
Ukrainian and Baltic Auxiliaries, and the <Einsatzkommandos> waded
knee-deep in blood and turned into drunken, dope-ridden maniacs.
Lublin was their heart. In the spring of 1942 Operation Reinhard
began in Lublin. The ghetto, a miniature of Warsaw's, was emptied
into the camp in the Majdan-Tartarski suburb called Majdanek.
As the camp emptied, it was refilled by a draining of the camps and
towns around Lublin, then by deportees from outside Poland. In and
in and in they poured through the gates of Majdanek, but they never
left, and Majdanek was not growing any larger. What was happening
in Majdanek? Was Operation Reinhard the same pattern for the
daily trains now leaving the Umschlagplatz in Warsaw? Was there
another Majdanek in the Warsaw area, as they suspected? Andrei
stopped at Litowski Place and looked around quickly at the boundary
of civil buildings. His watch told him he was still early. Down
the boulevard he could see a portion of the ghetto wall. He found an
empty bench, opened a newspaper, and stretched his legs before him.
Krakow Boulevard was filled with black Nazi uniforms and the dirty
brownish ones of their Auxiliaries. "Captain
Androfski"!

Andrei glanced up over the top of the paper and looked into the
mustached, homely face of Sergeant Styka. Styka sat beside him and
pumped his hand excitedly. "I have been waiting across the street
at the post office since dawn. I thought you might get in on a morning
train". "It's good to see you again, Styka".

Styka studied his captain. He almost broke into tears. To him, Andrei
Androfski had always been the living symbol of a Polish officer.
His captain was thin and haggard and his beautiful boots were worn
and shabby. "Remember to call me Jan", Andrei said.

Styka nodded and sniffed and blew his nose vociferously. "When
that woman found me and told me that you needed me I was never so happy
since before the war". "I'm lucky that you were still
living in Lublin". Styka grumbled about fate. "For a time
I thought of trying to reach the Free Polish Forces, but one thing
led to another. I got a girl in trouble and we had to get married.
Not a bad girl. So we have three children and responsibilities. I
work at the granary. Nothing like the old days in the army, but I
get by. Who complains? Many times I tried to reach you, but I never
knew how. I came to Warsaw twice, but there was that damned ghetto
wall **h" "I understand". Styka blew his nose
again. "Were you able to make the arrangements"? Andrei
asked. "There is a man named Grabski who is the foreman in
charge of the bricklayers at Majdanek. I did exactly as instructed.
I told him you are on orders from the Home Army to get inside Majdanek
so you can make a report to the government in exile in London".

"His answer"? "Ten thousand zlotys".

"Can he be trusted"? "He is aware he will not live

for twenty-four hours if he betrays you". "Good man, Styka".

"Captain **h Jan **h must you go inside Majdanek?

The stories **h Everyone really knows what is happening there".

"Not everyone, Styka". "What good will it really

do"? "I don't know. Perhaps **h perhaps **h there
is a shred of conscience left in the human race. Perhaps if they know
the story there will be a massive cry of indignation". "Do
you really believe that, Jan"? "I have to believe it".

Styka shook his head slowly. "I am only a simple soldier.

I cannot think things out too well. Until I was transferred into
the Seventh Ulanys I was like every other Pole in my feeling about
Jews. I hated you when I first came in. But **h my captain might
have been a Jew, but he wasn't a Jew. What I mean is, he was a
Pole and the greatest soldier in the Ulanys. Hell, sir. The men of
our company had a dozen fights defending your name. You never knew about
it, but by God, we taught them respect for Captain Androfski".

Andrei smiled. "Since the war I have seen the way

the Germans have behaved and I think, Holy Mother, we have behaved
like this for hundreds of years. Why"? "How can you
tell an insane man to reason or a blind man to see"? "But
we are neither blind nor insane. The men of your company would not
allow your name dishonored. Why do we let the Germans do this"?

"I have sat many hours with this, Styka. All I ever wanted
was to be a free man in my own country. I've lost faith, Styka.
I used to love this country and believe that someday we'd win our
battle for equality. But now I think I hate it very much".
"And do you really think that the world outside Poland will care
any more than we do"? The question frightened Andrei.

"Please don't go inside Majdanek". "I'm still

a soldier in a very small way, Styka". It was an answer that
Styka understood. Grabski's shanty was beyond the bridge
over the River Bystrzyca near the rail center. Grabski sat in a sweat-saturated
undershirt, cursing the excessive heat which clamped an uneasy
stillness before sundown. He was a square brick of a man with a
moon-round face and sunken Polish features. Flies swarmed around the
bowl of lentils in which he mopped thick black bread. Half of it dripped
down his chin. He washed it down with beer and produced a deep-seated
belch. "Well"? Andrei demanded. Grabski
looked at the pair of them. He grunted a sort of "yes" answer. "My
cousin works at the Labor Bureau. He can make you work papers.
It will take a few days. I will get you inside the guard camp as a
member of my crew. I don't know if I can get you into the inner camp.
Maybe yes, maybe no, but you can observe everything from the roof
of a barrack we are building". Grabski slurped his way to the
bottom of the soup bowl. "Can't understand why the hell anyone
wants to go inside that son-of-a-bitch place". "Orders from
the Home Army". "Why? Nothing there but Jews".

Andrei shrugged. "We get strange orders". "Well-

what about the money"? Andrei peeled off five one-thousand-zloty
notes. Grabski had never seen so much money. His broad flat
fingers, petrified into massive sausages by years of bricklaying, snatched
the bills clumsily. "This ain't enough". "You
get the rest when I'm safely out of Majdanek". "I ain't
taking no goddamned chances for no Jew business". Andrei
and Styka were silent.

She was getting real dramatic. I'd have been more impressed
if I hadn't remembered that she'd played Hedda Gabler in her
highschool dramatics course. I didn't want her back on that broken
record. "Nothing's free in the whole goddam world", was
all I could think of to say. When I'd delivered myself of that
gem there was nothing to do but order up another drink. "I
am", she said. I'd forgotten all about Thelma and the Kentucky
Derby and how it was Thelma's fifty dollars I was spending.
It was just me and Eileen getting drunk together like we used to in
the old days, and me staring at her across the table crazy to get my
hands on her partly because I wanted to wring her neck because she was
so ornery but mostly because she was so wonderful to touch. Drunk
or sober she was the most attractive woman in the world for me. I was
crazy about her all over again. It was the call of the wild all right.

That evening turned out to be hell like all the others. We

moved down Broadway from ginmill to ginmill. It was the same old routine.
Eileen got to dancing, just a little tiny dancing step to a hummed
tune that you could hardly notice, and trying to pick up strange
men, but each time I was ready to say to hell with it and walk out she'd
pull herself together and talk so understandingly in that sweet
husky voice about the good times and the happiness we'd had together
and there I was back on the hook. I did have the decency to
call up Thelma and tell her I'd met old friends and would be home
late. "I could scratch her eyes out", Eileen cried and stamped
her foot when I came back from the phone booth. "You know I
don't like my men to have other women. I hate it. I hate it".

She got so drunk I had to take her home. It was a walk up on

Hudson Street. She just about made me carry her upstairs and then
she clung to me and wouldn't let me go. There was a man's
jacket on the chair and a straw hat on the table. The place smelt of
some kind of hair lotion these pimplike characters use. "What about
Ballestre"? I had to shake her to make her listen. "Precious.
What about him"? Suddenly she was very mysterious and dramatic.
"Precious and I allow each other absolute freedom. We are
above being jealous. He's used to me bringing home strange men. I'll
just tell him you're my husband. He can't object to that".

"Well I object. If he pokes his nose in here I'll slug

him". "That really would be funny". She began
to laugh. She was still laughing when I grabbed her and started rolling
her on the bed. After all I'm made of flesh and blood. I'm
not a plaster saint. Waking up was horrible. Never in my life
have I felt so remorseful about anything I've done as I did about
spending that night with my own wife. We both had hangovers.
Eileen declared she couldn't lift her head from the pillow. She
lay under the covers making jabbing motions with her forefinger telling
me where to look for the coffeepot. I was stumbling in my undershirt
trying to find my way around her damn kitchenette when I smelt that
sickish sweet hairtonic smell. There was somebody else in the apartment.

I stiffened. Honest I could feel the hair stand up on the

back of my neck like a dog's that is going to get into a fight. I
turned around with the percolator in my hand. My eyes were so bleary
I could barely see him but there he was, a little smooth olivefaced
guy in a new spring overcoat and a taffycolored fedora. Brown eyes,
eyebrow mustache. Oval face without an expression in the world.

We didn't have time to speak before Eileen's voice was screeching

at us from the bed. "Joseph Maria Ballestre meet Francis Xavier
Bowman. Exboyfriend meet exhusband". She gave the nastiest laugh
I ever heard. "And don't either of you forget that I'm not
any man's property. If you want to fight, go down on the sidewalk".
She was enjoying the situation. Imagine that. Eileen
was a psychologist all right. Instead of wanting to sock the poor bastard
I found myself having a fellowfeeling for him. Maybe he felt the
same way. I never felt such a lowdown hound in my life. First thing
I knew he was in the kitchenette cooking up the breakfast and I was
handing Eileen her coffeecup and she was lying there handsome as a
queen among her courtiers. I couldn't face Thelma after that
night. I didn't even have the nerve to call her on the telephone.
I wrote her that I'd met up with Eileen and that old bonds had proved
too strong and asked her to send my clothes down by express. Of
course I had to give her Eileen's address, but she never came near
us. All she did was write me a pleasant little note about how it was
beautiful while it lasted but that now life had parted our ways and
it was goodbye forever. She never said a word about the fifty dollars.
She added a postscript begging me to be careful about drinking. I
must know that that was my greatest weakness underlined three times.

Afterwards I learned that Eileen had called Thelma on the telephone

and made a big scene about Thelma trying to take her husband
away. That finished me with Thelma. Trust Eileen to squeeze all the
drama out of a situation. And there I was shacked up with Eileen
in that filthy fourth floor attic on Hudson Street. I use the
phrase advisedly because there was something positively indecent about
our relationship. I felt it and it ate on me all the time, but I
didn't know how right I was till later. What I did know was
that Precious was always around. He slept in the hall bedroom at the
head of the stairs. "Who do you think pays the rent? You wouldn't
have me throw the poor boy out on the street", Eileen said when
I needled her about it. I said sure that was what I wanted her
to do but she paid no attention. Eileen had a wonderful way of not listening
to things she didn't want to hear. Still I didn't think
she was twotiming me with Precious right then. To be on the safe side
I never let Eileen get out of my sight day or night. Precious
had me worried. I couldn't make out what his racket was. I'd
thought him a pimp or procurer but he didn't seem to be. He was smooth
and civil spoken but it seemed to me there was something tough under
his selfeffacing manner. Still he let Eileen treat him like a valet.
Whenever the place was cleaned or a meal served it was Precious
who did the work. I never could find out what his business was.
He always seemed to have money in his pocket. The phone had been
disconnected but telegrams came for him and notes by special messenger.
Now and then he would disappear for several days. "Connections"
was all he would say with that smooth hurt smile when I put leading
questions. "Oh he's just an international spy", Eileen would
shout with her screechy laugh. Poor devil he can't have been
too happy either. He got no relief from drink because, though sometimes
Precious would buy himself a drink if he went out with us in the
evening, he'd leave it on the table untouched. When I was in
liquor I rode him pretty hard I guess. Occasionally if I pushed
him too far he'd give me a look out of narrowed eyes and the hard cruel
bony skull would show through that smooth face of his. "Some day",
I told Eileen, "that guy will kill us both". She just wouldn't
listen. Getting drunk every night was the only way I
could handle the situation. Eileen seemed to feel the same way. We still
had that much in common. The trouble was drinking cost money. The
way Eileen and I were hitting it up, we needed ten or fifteen dollars
an evening. Eileen must have wheedled a little out of Precious.
I raised some kale by hocking the good clothes I had left over from
my respectable uptown life, but when that was gone I didn't have a
cent. I don't know what we would have done if Pat O'Dwyer hadn't
come to town. Pat O'Dwyer looked like a heavier Jim.
He had the same bullet head of curly reddish hair but he didn't have
Jim's pokerfaced humor or his brains or his charm. He was a big
thick beefy violent man. Now Pat may have been a lecher and a plugugly,
but he was a good churchgoing Catholic and he loved his little
sister. Those O'Dwyers had that Irish clannishness that made them
stick
together in spite of politics and everything. Pat took Eileen
and me out to dinner at a swell steak house and told us with tears
in his eyes how happy he was we had come together again. "Whom God
hath joined" etcetera. The O'Dwyers were real religious people
except for Kate. Now it would be up to me to keep the little girl
out of mischief. Pat had been worried as hell ever since she'd lost
her job on that fashion magazine. It had gone big with the Hollywood
girls when he told them his sister was an editor of <Art and Apparel>.
How about me trying to help her get her job back? All
evening Eileen had been as demure as a little girl getting ready
for her first communion. It just about blew us both out of the water
when Eileen suddenly came out with what she came out with. "But brother
I can't take a job right now", she said with her eyes on her
ice cream, "I'm going to have a baby, Francis Xavier's baby,
my own husband's baby". My first thought was how had it
happened so soon, but I counted back on my fingers and sure enough we'd
been living together six weeks. Pat meanwhile was bubbling over with
sentiment. Greatest thing that ever happened. Now Eileen really
would have to settle down to love honor and obey, and she'd have to
quit drinking. He'd come East for the christening, by God he would.
When we separated that evening Pat pushed a hundred dollar bill
into Eileen's hand to help towards a layette. Before he left
town Pat saw to it that I was fixed up with a job. Pat had contacts
all over the labor movement. A friend of Pat's named Frank Sposato
had just muscled into the Portwatchers' Union. The portwatchers
were retired longshoremen and small time seafarers off towboats
and barges who acted as watchmen on the wharves. Most of them were
elderly men. It was responsible and sometimes dangerous work because
the thieving is awful in the port of New York. They weren't as
well paid as they should have been. One reason the portwatchers let
Sposato take them over was to get the protection of his musclemen.
Sposato needed a front, some labor stiff with a clean record to
act as business agent of the Redhook local. There I was a retired
wobbly and structural iron worker who'd never gouged a cent off a fellow
worker in my thirty years in the movement. For once radicalism was
a recommendation. Sposato couldn't wait to get me hired.
With my gray hair and my weatherbeaten countenance I certainly looked
the honest working stiff. The things a man will do for a woman.
There was one fact which Rector could not overlook, one truth which
he could not deny. As long as there were two human beings working together
on the same project, there would be competition and you could no
more escape it than you could expect to escape the grave. No matter
how devoted a man was, no matter how fully he gave his life to the Lord,
he could never extinguish that one spark of pride that gave him definition
as an individual. All of the jobs in the mission might be equal
in the eyes of the Lord, but they were certainly not equal in the
eyes of the Lord's servants. It was only natural that Fletcher would
strive for a position in which he could make the decisions.

Even Rector himself was prey to this spirit of competition and he

knew it, not for a more exalted office in the hierarchy of the church-
his ambitions for the bishopry had died very early in his career-
but for the one clear victory he had talked about to the colonel. He
was not sure how much of this desire was due to his devotion to the church
and how much was his own ego, demanding to be satisfied, for the two
were intertwined and could not be separated. He wanted desperately
to see Kayabashi defeated, the Communists in the village rooted out,
the mission standing triumphant, for in the triumph of the Lord he
himself would be triumphant, too. But perhaps this was a part of the
eternal plan, that man's ambition when linked with God would be a driving,
indefatigable force for good in the world. He sighed.
How foolish it was to try to fathom the truth in an area where only faith
would suffice. He would have to work without questioning the motives
which made him work and content himself with the thought that the
eventual victory, however it was brought about, would be sweet indeed.

His first move was to send Hino to the village to spend a few days.
His arm had been giving him some trouble and Rector was not enough
of a medical expert to determine whether it had healed improperly or
whether Hino was simply rebelling against the tedious work in the print
shop, using the stiffness in his arm as an excuse. In any event Rector
sent him to the local hospital to have it checked, telling him to
keep his ears open while he was in the village to see if he could find
out what Kayabashi was planning. Hino was elated at the prospect.
He was allowed to spend his nights at an inn near the hospital
and he was given some extra money to go to the <pachinko> parlor-
an excellent place to make contact with the enemy. He left with all
the joyous spirit of a child going on a holiday, nodding attentively
as Rector gave him his final instructions. He was to get involved in
no
arguments; he was to try to make no converts; he was simply to listen
and report back what he heard. It was a ridiculous situation
and Rector knew it, for Hino, frankly partisan, openly gregarious,
would make a poor espionage agent. If he wanted to know anything, he
would end up asking about it point-blank, but in this guileless manner
he would probably receive more truthful answers than if he tried to
get them by indirection. In all of his experience in the mission field
Rector had never seen a convert quite like Hino. From the moment
that Hino had first walked into the mission to ask for a job, any job-
his qualifications neatly written on a piece of paper in a precise
hand- he had been ready to become a Christian. He had already been
studying the Bible; he knew the fundamentals, and after studying
with Fletcher for a time he approached Rector, announced that he wanted
to be baptized and that was that. Rector had never been able
to find out much about Hino's past. Hino talked very little about
himself except for the infrequent times when he used a personal illustration
in connection with another subject. Putting the pieces of
this mosaic together, Rector had the vague outlines of a biography. Hino
was the fourth son of an elderly farmer who lived on the coast, in
Chiba, and divided his life between the land and the sea, supplementing
the marginal livelihood on his small rented farm with seasonal employment
on a fishing boat. Without exception Hino's brothers turned
to either one or both of their father's occupations, but Hino showed
a talent for neither and instead spent most of his time on the beach
where he repaired nets and proved immensely popular as a storyteller.
He had gone into the Japanese navy, had been trained as an officer,
had participated in one or two battles- he never went into detail
regarding his military experience- and at the age of twenty-five,
quite as a bolt out of the blue, he had walked into the mission as if
he belonged here and had become a Christian. Rector was often curious;
often tempted to ask questions but he never did. If and when Hino
decided to tell him about his experiences, he would do so unasked.

Rector had no doubt that Hino would come back from the village
bursting with information, ready to impart it with his customary gusto,
liberally embellished with his active imagnation. When the telephone
rang on the day after Hino went down to the village, Rector had
a hunch it would be Hino with some morsel of information too important
to wait until his return, for there were few telephones in the village
and the phone in Rector's office rarely rang unless it was important.
He was surprised to find Kayabashi's secretary on the other
end of the line. He was even more startled when he heard what Kayabashi
wanted. The <oyabun> was entertaining a group of dignitaries, the
secretary said, businessmen from Tokyo for the most part, and Kayabashi
wished to show them the mission. They had never seen one before
and had expressed a curiosity about it. "Oh"? Rector
said. "I guess it will be all right. When would the <oyabun> like
to bring his guests up here"? "This afternoon", the
secretary said. "At three o'clock if it will be of convenience to
you at that time". "All right", Rector said. "I will
be expecting them". He was about to hang up the phone, but
a note of hesitancy in the secretary's voice left the conversation
open. He had something more to say. "I beg to inquire if the back
is now safe for travelers", he said. Rector laughed despite
himself. "Unless the <oyabun> has been working on it", he said,
then checked himself and added: "You can tell Kayabashi-<san>
that the back road is in very good condition and will be quite safe for
his party to use". "<Arigato gosaimasu>". The secretary
sighed with relief and then the telephone clicked in Rector's
hand. Rector had no idea why Kayabashi wanted to visit the mission.
For the <oyabun> to make such a trip was either a sign of great
weakness or an indication of equally great confidence, and from all
the available information it was probably the latter. Kayabashi must
feel fairly certain of his victory in order to make a visit like this,
a trip which could be so easily misinterpreted by the people in the
village.
At the same time, it was unlikely that any businessmen would spend
a day in a Christian mission out of mere curiosity. No, Kayabashi
was bringing his associates here for a specific purpose and Rector
would not be able to fathom it until they arrived. When he had
given the call a few moments thought, he went into the kitchen to ask
Mrs& Yamata to prepare tea and <sushi> for the visitors, using
the formal English china and the silver tea service which had been
donated to the mission, then he went outside to inspect the grounds. Fujimoto
had a pile of cuttings near one side of the lawn. Rector asked
him to move it for the time being; he wanted the mission compound
to be effortlessly spotless. A good initial impression would be important
now. He went into the print shop, where Fletcher had just finished
cleaning the press. "How many pamphlets do we have in stock"?
Rector said. "I should say about a hundred thousand",
Fletcher said. "Why"? "I would like to enact
a little tableau this afternoon", Rector said, He explained about
the visit and the effect he wished to create, the picture of a very busy
mission. He did not wish to deceive Kayabashi exactly, just to display
the mission activities in a graphic and impressive manner. Fletcher
nodded as he listened to the instructions and said he would arrange
the things Rector requested. Rector's next stop was at
the schoolroom, where Mavis was monitoring a test. He beckoned to her
from the door and she slipped quietly outside. He told her of the visitors
and then of his plans. "How many children do you have present
today"? he said. She looked back toward the schoolroom.
"Fifteen", she said. "No, only fourteen. The little Ito girl
had to go home. She has a pretty bad cold". "I would
like them to appear very busy today, not busy exactly, but joyous, exuberant,
full of life. I want to create the impression of a compound
full of children. Do you think you can manage it"? Mavis
smiled. "I'll try". As Rector was walking back toward
the residential hall, Johnson came out of the basement and bounded up
to him. The altercation in the coffee house had done little to dampen
his spirits, but he was still a little wary around Rector for they
had not yet discussed the incident. "I think I've fixed the pump
so we won't have to worry about it for a long time", he said. "I've
adjusted the gauge so that the pump cuts out before the water
gets too low". "Fine", Rector said. He looked out over
the expanse of the compound. It was going to take a lot of activity
to fill it. "Have you ever operated a transit"? he said.

"No, sir", Johnson said. "You are about to become a

first-class surveyor", Rector said. "When Konishi gets back with
the jeep, I want you to round up two or three Japanese boys. Konishi
can help you. You'll find an old transit in the basement. The
glass is out of it, but that won't matter. It looks pretty efficient
and that's the important thing". He went on to explain what he
had in mind. Johnson nodded. He said he could do it. Rector
was warming to his over-all strategy by the time he got back to the residential
hall. It was rather a childish game, all in all, but everybody
seemed to be getting into the spirit of the thing and he could not
remember when he had enjoyed planning anything quite so much. He was
not sure what effect it would have, but that was really beside the point
when you got right down to it. He was not going to lose the mission
by default, and whatever reason Kayabashi had for bringing his little
sight-seeing group to the mission, he was going to be in for a surprise.

He found Elizabeth in the parlor and asked her to make

sure everything was in order in the residential hall, and then to take
charge of the office while the party was here. When everything had been
done, Rector went back to his desk to occupy himself with his monthly
report until three o'clock. At two thirty he sent Fujimoto
to the top of the wall at the northeast corner of the mission to
keep an eye on the ridge road and give a signal when he first glimpsed
the approach of Kayabashi's party. Then Rector, attired in his best
blue serge suit, sat in a chair out on the lawn, in the shade of a
tree, smoking a cigarette and waiting. The air was cooler here, and the
lacy pattern of the trees threw a dappled shadow on the grass, an effect
which he found pleasant.

She concluded by asking him to name another hour should this one
be inconvenient. The fish took the bait. He replied that he
could not imagine what importance there might be in thus meeting with
a stranger, but- joy of joys, he would be at home at the hour mentioned.

But when she called he had thought better of the matter

and decided not to involve himself in a new entanglement. She was told
by the manservant who opened the door that his lordship was engaged
on work from which he had left strict orders he was not to be disturbed.
Claire was bitterly disappointed but determined not to let the rebuff
daunt her purpose. She wrote again and now, abandoning for the moment
the theme of love, she asked for help in the matter of her career.
She could act and she could write. His lordship was concerned in the
management of Drury Lane but, if there were no opportunities there,
would he read and criticize her novel? At last he consented
to meet her, and following that brief interview Claire wrote him a
yet more remarkable proposal: Have you any objection to the
following plan? On Thursday evening we may go out of town together
by some stage or mail about the distance of ten or twelve miles. There
we shall be free and unknown; we can return the following morning
**h She concluded by asking for a brief interview- "to settle
with you <where>"- and she threw in a tribute to his "gentle
manners" and "the wild originality of your countenance".

She opened his reply with trembling fingers **h he agreed! And
he would see her that evening. Victory at last! At their
meeting he told her not to bother about "where"- he would attend
to that. There was one of the new forte-pianos in the room and, as
Claire
rose to go, he asked her to sing him one song before she left.
She sang him Scott's charming ballad "Rosabelle", which was the
vogue of the moment. She had never sung better. "Your voice
is delightful", he approved with a warm smile. "Tomorrow will
be a new experience- I have never before made love to a nightingale
**h. There have been cooing doves, chattering magpies, thieving jackdaws,
a proud peacock, a silly goose, and a harpy eagle- whom I was
silly enough to mate with and who is now busy tearing at my vitals".

And so they went, he choosing of all places an inn near Medmenham

Abbey, scene a generation ago of the obscene orgies of the Hellfire
Club. He regaled Claire with an account of the mock mass performed
by the cassocked bloods, which he had had at firsthand from old
Bud Dodington, one of the leaders of the so-called "Order". Each
wore the monkish scourge at his waist but this, it seems, was not
employed for self-flagellation **h. Naked girls danced in the chancel
of the Abbey, the youngest and seemingly the most innocent being chosen
to read a sermon filled with veiled depravities. The jaded
amorist conjured up pictures of the blasphemous rites with relish. Alas,
all that belonged to the age of "Devil Dashwood" and "Wicked
Wilkes", abbot and beadsman of the Order! The casual seduction
of a seventeen-year-old bluestocking seemed tame by comparison.

They passed close by the turn to Bishopsgate. A scant half mile

away Shelley and Mary were doubtless sitting on their diminutive terrace,
the air about them scented with stock, and listening to the nightingale
who had nested in the big lime tree at the foot of the garden. Charming
and peaceful- but what were charm and peace compared to high adventure?
Alone with the fabulous Byron! How many women had longed
for the privilege that was hers. How was she to behave, Claire
wondered. To be passive, to be girlishly shy was palpably absurd.
She was the pursuer as clearly as was Venus in Shakespeare's poem.
And while her Adonis did not suffer from inexperience, satiety might
well be an equal handicap. No, she would not pretend modesty, but
neither must she be crudely bold. Mystery- that was the thing. In
the bedroom she would insist on darkness. With his club foot he might
well be grateful. At the inn, which was situated close to a
broad weir, Byron was greeted by the landlord with obsequious deference
and addressed as "milord". The place was evidently a familiar
haunt and Claire wondered what other illicit loves had been celebrated
in the comfortable rooms to which they were shown. The fire
in the sitting room was lighted. "What about the bedroom"?
Byron inquired. "Seems to me last time I was here the grate bellowed
out smoke as it might have been preparing us for hell".

"We found some owls had built a nest in the chimney, milord, but
I promise you you'll never have trouble of that sort again".

So, not only had he been here before, but it seemed he might well
come again. Claire felt suddenly small and cheap, heroine of a trivial
episode in the voluminous history of Don Juan. A cold supper
was ordered and a bottle of port. When Napoleon's ship had borne
him to Elba, French wines had started to cross the Channel, the first
shipments in a dozen war-ridden years, but the supplies had not yet
reached rural hostelries where the sweet wines of the Spanish peninsula
still ruled. As they waited for supper they sat by the
fire, glasses in hand, while Byron philosophized as much for his own
entertainment as hers. "Sex is overpriced", he said. "The
great Greek tragedies are concerned with man against Fate, not
man against man for the prize of a woman's body. So don't see yourself
as a heroine or fancy this little adventure is an event of major
importance". "The gods seemed to think sex pretty important",
she rebutted. "Mars and Venus, Bacchus and Ariadne, Jupiter
and Io, Byron and the nymph of the owl's nest. That would be
Minerva, I suppose. Wasn't the owl her symbol"? Byron
laughed. "So you know something of the classics, do you"?

"Tell me about Minerva, how she behaved, what she did to please
you". "I'll tell you nothing. I don't ask you who 'tis
you're being unfaithful to, husband or lover. Frankly, I don't
care". For a moment she thought of answering with the truth
but she knew there were men who shied away from virginity, who demanded
some
degree of education in body as well as mind. "Very well",
she said, "I'll not catechize you. What matter the others so long
as I have my place in history". She was striking the right
note. No man ever had a better opinion of himself and indeed, with
one so favored, flattery could hardly seem overdone. Brains and beauty,
high position in both the social and intellectual worlds, athlete,
fabled lover- if ever the world was any man's oyster it was his.
The light supper over, Claire went to him and, slipping an arm
about his shoulder, sat on his knee. He drew her close and, hand on
cheek, turned her face to his. Her lips, moist and parted, spoke his
name. "Byron"! His hand went to her shoulder and
pushed aside the knotted scarf that surmounted the striped poplin gown;
then, to better purpose, he took hold of the knot and with dextrous
fingers, untied it. The bodice beneath was buttoned and, withdrawing
his lips from hers, he set her upright on his knee and started to
undo it, unhurriedly as if she were a child. But, kindled by
his kiss, his caressing hand, her desire was aflame. She sprang up and
went swiftly to the bedroom. Lord Byron poured himself another glass
of wine and held it up to the candle flame admiring the rich color.
He drank slowly with due appreciation. It was an excellent vintage.

He rose and went to the bedroom. Pausing in the doorway he said:

"The form of the human female, unlike her mind and her spirit,
is the most challenging loveliness in all nature". ##

When Claire
returned to Bishopsgate she longed to tell them she had become
Byron's mistress. By odd coincidence, on the evening of her return
Shelley chose to read <Parisina>, which was the latest of the titled
poet's successes. As he declaimed the sonorous measures, it was
as much as Claire could do to restrain herself from bursting out with
her dramatic tidings. "Although it is not the best of which
he is capable", said Shelley as he closed the book, "it is still
poetry of a high order". "If he would only leave the East",
said Mary. "I am tired of sultans and scimitars".
"The hero of his next poem is Napoleon Bonaparte", said Claire,
with slightly overdone carelessness. "How do you know that"?
demanded Mary. "I was told it on good authority",
Claire answered darkly. "I mustn't tell, I mustn't tell",
she repeated to herself. "I promised him I wouldn't".

#CHAPTER
9#

WINTER CAME, and with it Mary's baby- a boy as she

had wished. William, he was called, in honor of the man who was at once
Shelley's pensioner and his most bitter detractor. With a pardonable
irony Shelley wrote to the father who had publicly disowned his
daughter: "Fanny and Mrs& Godwin will probably be glad
to hear that Mary has safely recovered from a very favorable confinement,
and that her child is well". At the same time another
child- this one of Shelley's brain- was given to the world:
<Alastor>, a poem of pervading beauty in which the reader may gaze
into the still depths of a fine mind's musings. <Alastor> was published
only to be savagely attacked, contemptuously ignored. Shelley
sent a copy to Southey, a former friend, and another to Godwin. Neither
acknowledged the gift. Only Mary's praise sustained him
in his disappointment. She understood completely. Not a thought nor
a cadence was missed in her summary of appreciation. "You
have made the labor worth while", he said to her, smiling. "And in
the future, since I write for a public of one, I can save the poor
publishers from wasting their money". "A public of one",
Mary echoed reprovingly. "how can you say such a thing? There
will be thousands who will thrill to the loveliness of <Alastor>. There
are some even now. What about that dear, clever Mr& Thynne?
I am sure he is in raptures". "Poor Mr& Thynne, he
always has to be trotted out for my encouragement". "There
are other Mr& Thynnes. Not everyone is bewitched by Byron's
caliphs and harem beauties". Mary's supercritical attitude
toward Byron had nothing to do with his moral disrepute. She was resentful
of his easy success as compared with Shelley's failure. The
same
month that <Alastor> was published, Murray sold twenty thousand
copies of <The Siege of Corinth>, a slovenly bit of Byronism that
even Shelley's generosity rebelled at. ##

The lordly poet was

at low-water mark. The careless writing was in keeping with his mood
of savage discontent. On all sides doors were being slammed in his
face. The previous scandals, gaily diverting as they were, had only
served to increase his popularity. Now, under the impact of his wife's
disclosures, he was brought suddenly to the realization that there
was a limit to tolerance, however brilliant, however far-famed the offender
might be. He tried defiance and openly flaunted his devotion
to his half sister, but he soon saw, as did she, that this course if persisted
in would involve them in a common ruin. For the moment there
was no woman in his life, and it was this vacuum that had given Claire
her opportunity. But the liaison successfully started in the
last days of autumn was now languishing. Byron, since the separation
from his wife had been living in a smallish house in Piccadilly Terrace.
He refused to bring Claire to it even as an occasional visitor,
claiming that his every move was watched by spies of the Milbankes.

Beckworth handed the pass to the colonel. He had thought that

the suggestion of taking it himself would tip the colonel in the direction
of serving his own order, but the slip of paper was folded and absently
thrust into the colonel's belt. Despite his yearning, the colonel
would not go down to see the men come through the lines. He would
remain in the tent, waiting impatiently, occupied by some trivial
task. -Beckworth. -Sir? -Fetch me the
copies of everything ~B and ~C companies have requisitioned in the
last
six months. -The last <six> months, sir? -You
heard me. There's a lot of waste going on here. It's got to stop.
I want to take a look. This is no damned holiday, Beckworth. Get
busy. -Yes, sir. Beckworth left the tent. Below
he could see the bright torches lighting the riverbank. He glanced back.
The colonel crouched tensely on one of the folding chairs, methodically
tearing at his thumbnail. #@ 9 @#

THE BOMBPROOF was

a low-ceilinged structure of heavy timbers covered with earth. It
stood some fifty paces from the edge of the bank. From the outside, it
seemed no more than a low drumlin, a lump on the dark earth. A crude
ladder ran down to a wooden floor. Two slits enabled observers to watch
across the river. The place smelled strongly of rank, fertile earth,
rotting wood and urine. The plank floor was slimed beneath Watson's
boots. At least the Union officer had been decent enough to provide
a candle. There was no place to sit, but Watson walked slowly
from the ladder to the window slits and back, stooping slightly to avoid
striking his head on the heavy beams. In the corner was the soldier
with the white flag. He stood stiffly erect, clutching the staff, his
body half hidden by the limp cloth. Watson hardly looked at him. The
man had come floundering aboard the flat-bottomed barge at the last
instant, brandishing the flag of truce. Someone had hauled him over
the side, and he had remained silent while they crossed. An officer
with a squad of men had been waiting on the bank. The men in the
boats had started yelling happily at first sight of the officer, two
of them calling him Billy. When the boat had touched, the weaker ones
and the two wounded men had been lifted out and carried away by the
soldiers. Watson had presented his pouch and been led to the bombproof.
The officer had told him that both lists must be checked. Watson
had given his name and asked for a safe-conduct pass. The officer, surprised,
said he would have to see. Watson had nodded absently and muttered
that he would check the lists himself later. He had peered through
the darkness at the rampart. The men he would take back across
the river stood there, but he turned away from them. He wanted no part
of the emotions of the exchange, no memory of the joy and gratitude
that other men felt. He had hoped to be alone in the bombproof, but the
soldier had followed him. Though Watson carefully ignored the man,
he could not deny his presence. Perhaps it would be better to speak
to him, since silence could not exorcise his form. Watson glanced briefly
at him, seeing only a body rigidly erect behind the languid banner.

-We won't be too long. If my pass is approved, I may

be a half hour. The soldier answered in a curious, muffled voice,
his lips barely moving. Watson turned away and did not see the man's
knees buckle and his body sag. -Yes, sir. He
had acknowledged the man. It was easier to think now, Watson decided.
The stiff figure in the corner no longer blocked his thoughts. He
paced slowly, stooping, staring at the damp, slippery floor. He tried
to order the words of the three Union officers, seeking to create some
coherent portrait of the dead boy. But he groped blindly. His lack
of success steadily eroded his interest. He stopped pacing, leaned
against the dank, timbered wall and let his mind drift. A feeling of
futility, an enervation of mind greater than any fatigue he had ever known,
seeped through him. What in the name of God was he doing, crouched
in a timbered pit on the wrong bank of the river? Why had he crossed
the dark water, to bring back a group of reclaimed soldiers or
to skulk in a foul-smelling hole? He grew annoyed and at the
same time surprised at that emotion. He was conscious of a growing sense
of absurdity. Hillman had written it all out, hadn't he? Wasn't
the report official enough? What did he hope to accomplish here?
Hillman had ordered him not to leave the far bank. Prompted by
a guilty urge, he had disobeyed the order of a man he respected. For
what? To tell John something he would find out for himself.

The figure in the corner belched loudly, a deep, liquid eruption. Watson
snorted and then laughed aloud. Exactly! The soldier's
voice was muffled again, stricken with chagrin. He clutched the
staff,
and his dark eyes blinked apologetically. -'Scuse me,
sir. -Let's get out of here. Watson ran up the ladder
and stood for a second sucking in the cool air that smelled of mud
and river weeds. To his left, the two skiffs dented their sharp bows
into the soft bank. The flat-bottomed boat swung slowly to the pull
of the current. A soldier held the end of a frayed rope. Three
Union guards appeared, carrying their rifles at ready. Watson stared
at them
curiously. They were stocky men, well fed and clean-shaven, with
neat uniforms and sturdy boots. Behind them shambled a long column of
weak, tattered men. The thin gray figures raised a hoarse, cawing cry
like the call of a bird flock. They moved toward the skiffs with shocking
eagerness, elbowing and shoving. Four men were knocked down, but
did not attempt to rise. They crept down the muddy slope toward the
waiting boats. The Union soldiers grounded arms and settled into healthy,
indifferent postures to watch the feeble boarding of the skiffs.
The crawling men tried to rise and fell again. No one moved to them.
Watson watched two of them flounder into the shallow water and listened
to their voices beg shrilly. In a confused, soaked and stumbling
shift of bodies and lifting arms, the two men were dragged into the
same skiff. The third crawling man forced himself erect. He swayed
like a drunkard, his arms milling in slow circles. He paced forward unsteadily,
leaning too far back, his head tilted oddly. His steps were
short and stiff, and, with his head thrown back, his progress was a
supercilious strut. He appeared to be peering haughtily down his nose
at the crowded and unclean vessel that would carry him to freedom. He
stalked into the water and fell heavily over the side of the flat-bottomed
barge, his weight nearly swamping the craft. Watson looked for
the fourth man. He had reached the three passive guards; he crept
in an incertain manner, patting the ground before him. The guards did
not look at him. The figure on the earth halted, seemingly bewildered.
He sank back on his thin haunches like a weary hound. Then he began
to crawl again. Watson watched the creeping figure. He felt a spectator
interest. Would the man make it or not? If only there was a
clock for him to crawl against. If he failed to reach the riverbank
in five minutes, say, then the skiffs would pull away and leave him groping
in the mud. Say three minutes to make it sporting. Still the guards
did not move, but stood inert, aloof from the slow-scrambling man.
The figure halted, and Watson gasped. The man began to creep in
the wrong direction, deceived by a slight rise in the ground! He turned
slowly and began to crawl back up the bank toward the rampart. Watson
raced for him, his boots slamming the soft earth. The guards
came to life with astonishing menace. They spun and flung their rifles
up. Watson gesticulated wildly. One man dropped to his knee for
better aim. -Let me help him, for the love of God!

The guards lowered their rifles and their rifles and peered at Watson
with sullen, puzzled faces. Watson pounded to the crawling man and
stopped, panting heavily. He reached down and closed his fingers on
the man's upper arm. Beneath his clutch, a flat strip of muscle surged
on the bone. Watson bent awkwardly and lifted the man to his feet.
Watson stared into a cadaverous face. Two clotted balls the color
of mucus rolled between fiery lids. Light sticks of fingers, the tips
gummy with dark earth, patted at Watson's throat. The man's voice
was a sweet, patient whisper. -Henry said that he'd take
my arm and get me right there. But you ain't Henry. -No.

-It don't matter. Is it far? How far could

it be, Watson thought bleakly, how far can a blind man crawl? Another
body length or all the rest of his nighted life? -Not
far. -You talk deep. Not like us fellas. It raises the voice,
bein in camp. You Secesh? -Yes. Come on, now. Can
you walk? -Why, course I can. I can walk real good.

Watson stumbled down the bank. The man leaned his frail body
against Watson's shoulder. He was no heavier than a child. Watson
paused for breath. The man wheezed weakly, his fetid breath beating
softly against Watson's neck. His sweet whisper came after great effort.

-Oh, Christ **h. I wish you was Henry **h. He promised

to take me. -Hush. We're almost there. Watson
supported the man to the edge of the bank and passed the frail figure
over the bow of the nearest skiff. The man swayed on a thwart, turning
his ruined eyes from side to side. Watson turned away, sickened for
the first time in many months. He heard the patient voice calling.

-Henry? Where are you, Henry? -Make him lie

down! Watson snatched a deep breath. He had not meant to shout.
He stood with his back to the skiff. The men mewed and scratched,
begging to be taken away. Watson spoke bewilderedly to the dark night
flecked with pine-knot torches. -<Goddamn you! What
do you do to them?> Intelligence jabbed at him accusingly.
He was angry, sickened. He had not felt that during the afternoon.
No, nor later. All his emotions had been inward, self-conscious. In
war, on a night like this, it was only the outward emotions that mattered,
what could be flung out into the darkness to damage others. Yes.
That was it. He was sure of it. John's type of man allowed
this sort of thing to happen. What a fool he had been to think of
his brother! So Charles was dead. What did it matter? His name
had been crossed off a list. Already his cool body lay in the ground.
What words had any meaning? What had he thought of, to go to John,
grovel and beg understanding? To confess with a canvas chair as
a <prie-dieu>, gouging at his heart until a rough and stupid hand bade
him rise and go? Men were slaughtered every day, tumbled into eternity
like so many torn parcels flung down a portable chute. What made
him think John had a right to witness his brother's humiliation?
What right had John to any special consideration? Was John better,
more deserving? To hell with John. Let him chafe with impatience
to see Charles, rip open the note with trembling hands and read
the formal report in Hillman's beautiful, schoolmaster's hand. John
would curse. He believed that brave boys didn't cry. Watson
spat on the ground. He was grimly satisfied. He had stupidly thought
himself compelled to ease his brother's pain. Now he knew perfectly
that he had but longed to increase his own suffering.

I WOULD not want to be one of those writers who begin each

morning
by exclaiming, "O Gogol, O Chekhov, O Thackeray and Dickens,
what would you have made of a bomb shelter ornamented with four
plaster-of-Paris ducks,
a birdbath, and three composition gnomes with
long beards and red mobcaps"? As I say, I wouldn't want to
begin a day like this, but I often wonder what the dead would have done.
But the shelter is as much a part of my landscape as the beech and
horse-chestnut trees that grow on the ridge. I can see it from this
window where I write. It was built by the Pasterns, and stands on
the acre of ground that adjoins our property. It bulks under a veil of
thin, new grass, like some embarrassing fact of physicalness, and I
think Mrs& Pastern set out the statuary to soften its meaning. It
would have been like her. She was a pale woman. Sitting on her terrace,
sitting in her parlor, sitting anywhere, she ground an axe of self-esteem.
Offer her a cup of tea and she would say, "Why, these cups
look just like a set I gave to the Salvation Army last year".
Show her the new swimming pool and she would say, slapping her ankle,
"I suppose this must be where you breed your gigantic mosquitoes".
Hand her a chair and she would say, "Why, it's a nice imitation
of those Queen Anne chairs I inherited from Grandmother Delancy".
These trumps were more touching than they were anything else,
and seemed to imply that the nights were long, her children ungrateful,
and her marriage bewilderingly threadbare. Twenty years ago, she would
have been known as a golf widow, and the sum of her manner was perhaps
one of bereavement. She usually wore weeds, and a stranger watching
her board a train might have guessed that Mr& Pastern was dead,
but Mr& Pastern was far from dead. He was marching up and down
the locker room of the Grassy Brae Golf Club shouting, "Bomb Cuba!
Bomb Berlin! Let's throw a little nuclear hardware at them
and show them who's boss". He was brigadier of the club's locker-room
light infantry, and at one time or another declared war on Russia,
Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia, and China. It all began
on an autumn afternoon- and who, after all these centuries, can describe
the fineness of an autumn day? One might pretend never to have
seen one before, or, to more purpose, that there would never be another
like it. The clear and searching sweep of sun on the lawns was like
a climax of the year's lights. Leaves were burning somewhere and
the smoke smelled, for all its ammoniac acidity, of beginnings. The
boundless blue air was stretched over the zenith like the skin of a drum.
Leaving her house one late afternoon, Mrs& Pastern stopped to
admire the October light. It was the day to canvass for infectious
hepatitis. Mrs& Pastern had been given sixteen names, a bundle of
literature, and a printed book of receipts. It was her work to go among
her neighbors and collect their checks. Her house stood on a rise
of ground, and before she got into her car she looked at the houses below.
Charity as she knew it was complex and reciprocal, and almost every
roof she saw signified charity. Mrs& Balcolm worked for the brain.
Mrs& Ten Eyke did mental health. Mrs& Trenchard worked for
the blind. Mrs& Horowitz was in charge of diseases of the nose
and throat. Mrs& Trempler was tuberculosis, Mrs& Surcliffe was
Mothers' March of Dimes, Mrs& Craven was cancer, and Mrs&
Gilkson did the kidney. Mrs& Hewlitt led the birthcontrol league,
Mrs&
Ryerson was arthritis, and way in the distance could be seen the slate
roof of Ethel Littleton's house, a roof that signified gout.

Mrs& Pastern undertook the work of going from house to house

with the thoughtless resignation of an honest and traditional laborer.
It was her destiny; it was her life. Her mother had done it before
her, and even her old grandmother, who had collected money for smallpox
and unwed mothers. Mrs& Pastern had telephoned most of her neighbors
in advance, and most of them were ready for her. She experienced
none of the suspense of some poor stranger selling encyclopedias. Here
and there she stayed to visit and drink a glass of sherry. The contributions
were ahead of what she had got the previous year, and while
the money, of course, was not hers, it excited her to stuff her kit
with big checks. She stopped at the Surcliffes' after dusk, and had
a Scotch-and-soda. She stayed too late, and when she left, it was
dark and time to go home and cook supper for her husband. "I got a
hundred and sixty dollars for the hepatitis fund", she said excitedly
when he walked in. "I did everybody on my list but the Blevins
and the Flannagans. I want to get my kit in tomorrow morning- would
you mind doing them while I cook the dinner"? "But I
don't know the Flannagans", Charlie Pastern said. "Nobody
does, but they gave me ten last year". He was tired, he
had his business worries, and the sight of his wife arranging pork chops
in the broiler only seemed like an extension of a boring day. He
was happy enough to take the convertible and race up the hill to the
Blevins', thinking that they might give him a drink. But the Blevins
were away; their maid gave him an envelope with a check in it and
shut the door. Turning in at the Flannagans' driveway, he tried
to remember if he had ever met them. The name encouraged him, because
he always felt that he could <handle> the Irish. There was a glass
pane in the front door, and through this he could see into a hallway
where a plump woman with red hair was arranging flowers. "Infectious
hepatitis", he shouted heartily. She took a good look
at herself in the mirror before she turned and, walking with very
small steps, started toward the door. "Oh, please come in", she said.
The girlish voice was nearly a whisper. She was not a girl, he
could see. Her hair was dyed, and her bloom was fading, and she must
have been crowding forty, but she seemed to be one of those women who
cling to the manners and graces of a pretty child of eight. "Your wife
just called", she said, separating one word from another, exactly
like a child. "And I am not sure that I have any cash- any <money>,
that is- but if you will wait just a minute I will write you
out a check if I can find my checkbook. Won't you step into the
living room, where it's cozier"? A fire had just been lighted,
he saw, and things had been set out for drinks, and, like any
stray, his response to these comforts was instantaneous. Where was <Mr>&
Flannagan, he wondered. Travelling home on a late train?
Changing his clothes upstairs? Taking a shower? At the end of the
room there was a desk heaped with papers, and she began to riffle these,
making sighs and and noises of girlish exasperation. "I am terribly
sorry to keep you waiting", she said, "but won't you make
yourself a little drink while you wait? Everything's on the table".

"What train does Mr& Flannagan come out on"?

"Mr& Flannagan is away", she said. Her voice dropped.

"Mr& Flannagan has been away for six weeks **h". "I'll
have a drink, then, if you'll have one with me". "If
you will promise to make it weak". "Sit down", he said,
"and enjoy your drink and look for your checkbook later. The only
way to find things is to relax". All in all, they had six drinks.
She described herself and her circumstances unhesitatingly. Mr&
Flannagan manufactured plastic tongue depressors. He travelled
all over the world. She didn't like to travel. Planes made her feel
faint, and in Tokyo, where she had gone that summer, she had been given
raw fish for breakfast and so she had come straight home. She and
her husband had formerly lived in New York, where she had many friends,
but Mr& Flannagan thought the country would be safer in case
of war. She would rather live in danger than die of loneliness and boredom.
She had no children; she had made no friends. "I've seen
you, though, before", she said with enormous coyness, patting his
knee. "I've seen you walking your dogs on Sunday and driving by
in the convertible **h". The thought of this lonely woman sitting
at her window touched him, although he was even more touched by
her plumpness. Sheer plumpness, he knew, is not a vital part of the
body and has no procreative functions. It serves merely as an excess
cushion for the rest of the carcass. And knowing its humble place in
the scale of things, why did he, at this time of life, seem almost ready
to sell his soul for plumpness? The remarks she made about the sufferings
of a lonely woman seemed so broad at first that he didn't
know what to make of them, but after the sixth drink he put his arm around
her and suggested that they go upstairs and look for her checkbook
there. "I've never done this before", she said later,
when he was arranging himself to leave. Her voice shook with feeling,
and he thought it lovely. He didn't doubt her truthfulness, although
he had heard the words a hundred times. "I've never done this
before", they always said, shaking their dresses down over their white
shoulders. "I've never done this before", they always said,
waiting for the elevator in the hotel corridor. "I've never done
this before", they always said, pouring another whiskey. "I've
never done this before", they always said, putting on their stockings.
On ships at sea, on railroad trains, in summer hotels with mountain views,
they always said, "I've never done this before". ##

"Where
have you been"? Mrs& Pastern asked sadly, when he came
in. "It's after eleven". "I had a drink with the Flannagans".

"She told me he was in Germany". "He

came home unexpectedly". Charlie ate some supper in the
kitchen and went into the ~TV room to hear the news. "Bomb them"!
he shouted. "Throw a little nuclear hardware at them! Show
them who's boss"! But in bed he had trouble sleeping. He thought
first of his son and daughter, away at college. He loved them.
It was the only meaning of the word that he had ever known. Then he
played nine imaginary holes of golf, choosing his handicap, his irons,
his stance, his opponents, and his weather in detail, but the green of
the links seemed faded in the light of his business worries. His money
was tied up in a Nassau hotel, an Ohio pottery works, and a detergent
for window-washing, and luck had been running against him. His
worries harried him up out of bed, and he lighted a cigarette and went
to the window. In the starlight he could see the trees stripped of their
leaves. During the summer he had tried to repair some of his losses
at the track, and the bare trees reminded him that his pari-mutuel
tickets would still be lying, like leaves, in the gutters near Belmont
and Saratoga. Maple and ash, beech and elm, one hundred to win on
Three in the fourth, fifty to win on Six in the third, one hundred
to win on Two in the eighth. Children walking home from school would
scuff through what seemed to be his foliage. Then, getting back into
bed, he thought unashamedly of Mrs& Flannagan, planning where they
would next meet and what they would do. There are, he thought, so few
true means of forgetfulness in this life that why should he shun the
medicine even when the medicine seemed, as it did, a little crude?
It was not as though she noted clearly that her nephews had not been
to see her for ten years, not since their last journey eastward to witness
their Uncle Izaak being lowered into the rocky soil; that aside
from due notification of certain major events in their lives (two marriages,
two births, one divorce), Christmas and Easter cards of the
traditional sort had been the only thin link she had with them through
the widowed years. Her thoughts were not discrete. But there was
a look about her mouth as though she were tasting lemons. She
grasped the chair arms and brought her thin body upright, like a bird
alert for flight. She turned and walked stiffly into the parlor to the
dainty-legged escritoire, warped and cracked now from fifty years in
an atmosphere of sea spray. There she extracted two limp vellum sheets
and wrote off the letters, one to Abel, one to Mark. Once
her trembling hand, with the pen grasped tight in it, was pressed against
the paper the words came sharply, smoothly, as authoritatively as
they would dropping from her own lips. And the stiffly regal look of
them, she saw grimly, lacked the quaver of age which, thwarting the efforts
of her amazing will, ran through her spoken words like a thin ragged
string. "Please come down as soon as you conveniently can",
the upright letters stalked from the broad-nibbed pen, "I have an
important matter to discuss with you". To Abel: "I am afraid
there is not much to amuse small children here. I should be obliged
if you could make other arrangements for your daughters. You may stay
as long as you wish, of course, but if arranging for the care of the
girls must take time into account, I think a day or two should be enough
to finish our business in". To Mark: "Please give my regards
to Myra". She signed the letters quickly, stamped them, and
placed them on the hall table for Raphael to mail in town. Then she
went back to the wicker chair and resolutely adjusted her eyes to the
glare on the water. "My nephews will be coming down", she
said that evening as Angelina brought her dinner into the dining room,
the whole meal on a vast linen-covered tray. She looked at the girl
speculatively from eyes which had paled with the years; from the
early evening lights of them which had first startled Izaak to look
at
her in an uncousinly way, they had faded to a near-absence of color which
had, possibly from her constant looking at the water, something of
the light of the sea in them. Angelina placed the tray on the
table and with a flick of dark wrist drew off the cloth. She smiled,
and the teeth gleamed in her beautifully modeled olive face. "That
will be so nice for you, Mrs& Packard", she said. Her voice was
ripe and full and her teeth flashed again in Sicilian brilliance before
the warm curved lips met and her mouth settled in repose.
"Um", said the old lady, and brought her eyes down to the tray.
"You remember them, I suppose"? She glinted suspiciously at the
dish before her: "Blowfish. I hope Raphael bought them whole".

Angelina stepped back, her eyes roaming the tray for omissions.
Then she looked at the old woman again, her eyes calm. "Yes",
she said, "I remember that they came here every summer.
I used to play with the older one sometimes, when he'd let me. Abel"?
The name fell with lazy affectionate remembrance from her lips.
For an instant the old aunt felt something indefinable flash through
her smile. She would have said triumph. Then Angelina turned and
with an easy grace walked toward the kitchen. Jessica Packard
lifted her head and followed the retreating figure, her eyes resting
nearly closed on the unself-conscious rise and fall of the rounded hips.
For a moment she held her face to the empty doorway; then she snorted
and groped for her fork. There's no greater catastrophe
in the universe, she reflected dourly, impaling tender green beans
on the silver fork, than the dwindling away of a family. Procreation,
expansion, proliferation- these are the laws of living things, with
the penalty for not obeying them the ultimate in punishments: oblivion.
When the fate of the individual is visited on the group, then (the
warm sweet butter dripped from her raised trembling fork and she pushed
her head forward belligerently), ah, then the true bitterness of
existence could be tasted. And indeed the young garden beans were brackish
in her mouth. She was the last living of the older generation.
What had once been a widespread family- at one time, she knew,
there were enough Packards to populate an entire county- had now
narrowed down to the two boys, Abel and Mark. She swung her eyes up
to the blue of the window, her jaws gently mashing the bitter beans.
What hope lay in the nephews, she asked the intensifying light out there,
with one married to a barren woman and the other divorced, having
sired two girl children, with none to bear on the Packard name?

She ate. It seemed to her, as it seemed each night, that the gloom
drew itself in and became densest at the table's empty chairs,
giving her the frequent illusion that she dined with shadows. Here, too,
she talked low, quirking her head at one or another of the places,
most often at Izaak's armchair which faced her across the long table.
Or it might have been the absent nephews she addressed, consciously
playing with the notion that this was one of the summers of their early
years. She thought again of her children, those two who had
died young, before the later science which might have saved them could
attach even a label to their separate malignancies. The girl, her
first, she barely remembered. It could have been anyone's infant, for
it had not survived the bassinet. But the boy **h the boy had been
alive yesterday. Each successive movement in his growing was recorded
on the unreeling film inside her. He ran on his plump sticks of
legs,
freezing now and again into the sudden startled attitudes which the
camera had caught and held on the paling photographs, all carefully placed
and glued and labeled, resting in the fat plush album in the bottom
drawer of the escritoire. In the cruel clearness of her memory the
boy remained unchanged, quick with the delight of laughter, and the pain
with which she recalled that short destroyed childhood was still unendurable
to her. It was one with the desolate rocks and the alien water
on those days when she hated the sea. ##

The brothers drove

down together in Mark's small red sports car, Mark at the wheel. They
rarely spoke. Abel sat and regarded the farm country which, spreading
out from both sides of the road, rolled greenly up to where the
silent white houses and long barns and silos nested into the tilled fields.
He saw the land with a stranger's eyes, all the old familiarness
gone. And it presented itself to him as it would to any stranger,
impervious, complete in itself. There was stability there, too- a
color which his life had had once. That is what childhood is, he told
himself. Solid, settled **h lost. In the stiff neutral lines of the
telephone poles he saw the no-nonsense pen strokes of Aunt Jessica's
letter. What bad grace, what incredible selfishness he and Mark
had shown. The boyhood summers preceding their uncle's funeral might
never have been. They had closed over, absolutely, with the sealing
of old Izaak's grave. The small car flew on relentlessly. The old
woman, stubbornly reigning in the house above the crashing waters took
on an ominous reality. Abel moved and adjusted his long legs.

"I suppose it has to do with the property", Mark had said over
the telephone when they had discussed their receipt of the letters.
Not until the words had been spoken did Abel suddenly see the old house
and the insistent sea, and feel his contrition blotted out in one
shameful moment of covetousness. He and Mark were the last of the family,
and there lay the Cape Ann property which had seemed to have no
end, stretching from horizon to horizon, in those golden days of summer.

Now Abel turned his head to look at his brother. Mark held
the wheel loosely, but his fingers curved around it in a purposeful
way and the deliberate set of his body spoke plainly of the figure he'd
make in the years to come. His sandy hair was already beginning
to thin and recede at the sides, and Abel looked quickly away. Mark
easily looked years older than himself, settled, his world comfortably
categorized. The vacation traffic was becoming heavier as they
approached the sea. "She didn't mention bringing Myra", Mark
said, maneuvering the car into the next lane. "She's probably
getting old- crotchety, I mean- and we figured uh-uh, better not.
They've never met, you know. But Myra wouldn't budge without
an express invitation. I feel kind of bad about it". He gave Abel
a quick glance and moved closer to the wheel, hugging it to him, and
Abel caught this briefest of allusions to guilt. "I imagine
the old girl hasn't missed us much", Mark added, his eyes on the
road. Abel ignored the half-expressed bid for confirmation. He smiled.
It was barely possible that his brother was right. He could
tell they were approaching the sea. The air took on a special strength
now that they'd left the fecund warmth of the farmland behind.
There was the smell of the coast, like a primeval memory, composed
of equal parts salt water, clams, seaweed and northern air. He turned
from the flying trees to look ahead and saw with an inward boy's eye
again the great fieldstone house which, built on one of the many acres
of ancestral land bordering the west harbor, had been Izaak's bride-gift
to his cousin-wife as the last century ended. Mark's
thoughts must have been keeping silent pace beside his own, climbing
the same crags in dirty white sneakers, clambering out on top of the
headland and coming upon the sudden glinting water at the same instant.
"Remember the <Starbird?>" Mark asked, and Abel lifted his
eyes from the double lines in the middle of the road, the twin white
ribbons which the car swallowed rapidly as it ascended the crest of
the hill and came down. "The <Starbird,>" Abel said. There
was the day Uncle Izaak had, in an unexpected grandiose gesture,
handed over the pretty sloop to Abel for keeps, on condition that
he never fail to let his brother accompany him whenever the younger boy
wished. The two of them had developed into a remarkable sailing team
**h all of this happening in a time of their lives when their youth
and their brotherhood knitted them together as no other time or circumstance
could. They seemed then to have had a single mind and body, a
mutuality which had been accepted with the fact of their youth, casually.
He saw the <Starbird> as she lay, her slender mast up and gently
turning, its point describing constant languid circles against a cumulus
sky. Both of them had known the feeling of the small life in her
waiting, ready, for the two of them to run up her sails. The <Starbird>
had been long at the bottom of the bay. They came unexpectedly
upon the sea. Meeting it without preparation as they did, robbed
of anticipation, a common disappointment seized them. They were
climbing the hill in the night when the headlights abruptly probed solid
blackness, became two parallel luminous tubes which broadened out into
a faint mist of light and ended. Mark stopped the car and switched
off the lights and they sat looking at the water, which, there being
no moon out, at first could be distinguished from the sky only by an
absence of stars.
His eyes were old and they never saw well, but heated with whisky they'd
glare at my noise, growing red and raising up his rage. I decided
I hated the Pedersen kid too, dying in our kitchen while I was away
where I couldn't watch, dying just to entertain Hans and making
me go up snapping steps and down a drafty hall, Pa lumped under the
covers at the end like dung covered with snow, snoring and whistling.
Oh he'd not care about the Pedersen kid. He'd not care about getting
waked so he could give up some of his whisky to a slit of a kid
and maybe lose one of his hiding places in the bargain. That would make
him mad enough if he was sober. I didn't hurry though it was cold
and the Pedersen kid was in the kitchen. He was all shoveled
up like I thought he'd be. I pushed at his shoulder, calling
his
name. I think his name stopped the snoring but he didn't move except
to roll a little when I shoved him. The covers slid down his skinny
neck so I saw his head, fuzzed like a dandelion gone to seed, but
his face was turned to the wall- there was the pale shadow of his nose
on the plaster- and I thought, Well you don't look much like
a pig-drunk bully now. I couldn't be sure he was still asleep. He
was a cagey sonofabitch. I shook him a little harder and made some noise.
"Pap-pap-pap-hey", I said. I was leaning too far over.
I knew better. He always slept close to the wall so you had to lean
to reach him. Oh he was smart. It put you off. I knew better but
I was thinking of the Pedersen kid mother-naked in all that dough.
When his arm came up I ducked away but it caught me on the side of
the neck, watering my eyes, and I backed off to cough. Pa was on his
side, looking at me, his eyes winking, the hand that had hit me a fist
in the pillow. "Get the hell out of here". I didn't
say anything, trying to get my throat clear, but I watched him.
He was like a mean horse to come at from the rear. It was better, though,
he'd hit me. He was bitter when he missed. "Get the
hell out of here". "Big Hans sent me. He told me to wake
you". "A fat hell on Big Hans. Get out of here".

"He found the Pedersen kid by the crib". "Get the

hell out". Pa pulled at the covers. He was tasting his mouth.

"The kid's froze good. Hans is rubbing him with snow.

He's got him in the kitchen". "Pedersen"?
"No, Pa. It's the Pedersen kid. The kid". "Nothing
to steal from the crib". "Not stealing, Pa. He was just
lying there. Hans found him froze. That's where he was when Hans
found him". Pa laughed. "I ain't hid nothing in
the crib". "You don't understand, Pa. The Pedersen
kid. The kid"- "I god damn well understand". Pa
had his head up, glaring, his teeth gnawing at the place where he'd
grown a mustache once. "I god damn well understand. You
know I don't want to see Pedersen. That cock. Why should I? What
did he come for, hey? God dammit, get. And don't come back.
Find out something. You're a fool. Both you and Hans. Pedersen.
That cock. Don't come back. Out. Out". He was shouting
and breathing hard and closing his fist on the pillow. He had long
black hairs on his wrist. They curled around the cuff of his nightshirt.

"Big Hans made me come. Big Hans said"- "A

fat hell on Big Hans. He's an even bigger fool than you are.
Fat, hey? I taught him, dammit, and I'll teach you. Out. You
want me to drop my pot"? He was about to get up so I got
out, slamming the door. He was beginning to see he was too mad to sleep.
Then he threw things. Once he went after Hans and dumped his pot
over the banister. Pa'd been shit-sick in that pot. Hans got an
axe. He didn't even bother to wipe himself off and he chopped part
of Pa's door down before he stopped. He might not have gone that
far if Pa hadn't been locked in laughing fit to shake the house.
That pot put Pa in an awful good humor whenever he thought of it. I
always felt the memory was present in both of them, stirring in their
chests like a laugh or a growl, as eager as an animal to be out. I
heard Pa cursing all the way downstairs. Hans had laid steaming
towels over the kid's chest and stomach. He was rubbing snow on
the kid's legs and feet. Water from the snow and water from the towels
had run off the kid to the table where the dough was, and the dough
was turning pasty, sticking to the kid's back and behind. "Ain't
he going to wake up"? "What about your pa"?

"He was awake when I left". "What'd he say?

Did you get the whisky"? "He said a fat hell on Big
Hans". "Don't be smart. Did you ask him about the whisky"?

"Yeah". "Well"? "He said

a fat hell on Big Hans". "Don't be smart. What's
he going to do"? "Go back to sleep most likely".
"You'd best get that whisky". "You go. Take the axe.
Pa's scared to hell of axes". "Listen to me, Jorge,
I've had enough to your sassing. This kid's froze bad. If I don't
get some whisky down him he might die. You want the kid to die?
Do you? Well, get your pa and get that whisky". "Pa
don't care about the kid". "Jorge". "Well
he don't. He don't care at all, and I don't care to get my head
busted neither. He don't care, and I don't care to have his shit
flung on me. He don't care about anybody. All he cares about is
his whisky and that dry crack in his face. Get pig-drunk- that's
what he wants. He don't care about nothing else at all. Nothing.
Not Pedersen's kid neither. That cock. Not the kid neither".

"I'll get the spirits", Ma said. I'd wound Big

Hans up tight. I was ready to jump but when Ma said she'd get the
whisky it surprised him like it surprised me, and he ran down. Ma
never went near the old man when he was sleeping it off. Not any more.
Not for years. The first thing every morning when she washed her face
she could see the scar on her chin where he'd cut her with a boot
cleat, and maybe she saw him heaving it again, the dirty sock popping
out as it flew. It should have been nearly as easy for her to remember
that as it was for Big Hans to remember going after the axe while
he was still spattered with Pa's yellow sick insides. "No
you won't", Big Hans said. "Yes, Hans, if they're
needed",
Ma said. Hans shook his head but neither of us tried
to stop her. If we had, then one of us would have had to go instead.
Hans rubbed the kid with more snow **h rubbed **h rubbed. "I'll
get more snow", I said. I took the pail and shovel and went
out on the porch. I don't know where Ma went. I thought she'd
gone upstairs and expected to hear she had. She had surprised Hans
like she had surprised me when she said she'd go, and then she surprised
him again when she came back so quick like she must have, because
when I
came in with the snow she was there with a bottle with three
white feathers on its label and Hans was holding it angrily by the throat.

Oh, he was being queer and careful, pawing about in the

drawer and holding the bottle like a snake at the length of his arm.
He was awful angry because he'd thought Ma was going to do something
big, something heroic even, especially for her **h I know him **h
I know him **h we felt the same sometimes **h while Ma wasn't thinking
about
that at all, not anything like that. There was no way of getting
even. It wasn't like getting cheated at the fair. They were always
trying so you got to expect it. Now Hans had given Ma something of
his- we both had when we thought she was going straight to Pa-
something valuable; but since she didn't know we'd given it to her,
there was no easy way of getting it back. Hans cut the foil
off finally and unscrewed the cap. He was put out too because there
was only one way of understanding what she'd done. Ma had found one
of Pa's hiding places. She'd found one and she hadn't said a
word while Big Hans and I had hunted and hunted as we always did all
winter, every winter since the spring that Hans had come and I had
looked in the privy and found the first one. Pa had a knack for hiding.
He knew we were looking and he enjoyed it. But now Ma. She'd
found it by luck most likely but she hadn't said anything and we didn't
know how long ago it'd been or how many other ones she'd found,
saying nothing. Pa was sure to find out. Sometimes he didn't
seem to because he hid them so well he couldn't find them himself or
because he looked and didn't find anything and figured he hadn't
hid one after all or had drunk it up. But he'd find out about this
one because we were using it. A fool could see what was going on. If
he found out Ma found it- that'd be bad. He took pride in his
hiding. It was all the pride he had. I guess fooling Hans and me took
doing. But he didn't figure Ma for much. He didn't figure her
at all, and if he found out
**h a woman **h it'd be bad. Hans
poured some in a tumbler. "You going to put more towels on him"?

"No". "Why not? That's what he needs,

something warm to his skin, don't he"? "Not where
he's froze good. Heat's bad for frostbite. That's why I only
put towels on his chest and belly. He's got to thaw slow. You ought
to know that". Colors on the towels had run. Ma poked
her toe in the kid's clothes. "What are we going to do
with these"? Big Hans began pouring whisky in the kid's
mouth but his mouth filled without any getting down his throat and in
a second it was dripping from his chin. "Here, help me prop
him up. I got hold his mouth open". I didn't want to touch
him and I hoped Ma would do it but she kept looking at the kid's
clothes piled on the floor and the pool of water by them and didn't
make any move to. "Come on, Jorge". "All right".

"Lift, don't shove **h lift". "O&K&,

I'm lifting". I took him by the shoulders. His head flopped
back. His mouth fell open. The skin on his neck was tight. He
was cold all right. "Hold his head up. He'll choke".

"His mouth is open". "His throat's shut. He'll

choke". "He'll choke anyway". "Hold his
head up". "I can't". "Don't hold him like
that. Put your arms around him". "Well Jesus".
He was cold all right. I put my arm carefully around him. Hans had
his fingers in the kid's mouth. "Now he'll choke for sure".

"Shut up. Just hold him like I told you". He

was cold all right, and wet. I had my arm behind his back.
He was in his mid-fifties at this time, long past the establishment of
his name and the wish to be lionized yet once again, and it was almost
a decade since he had sworn off lecturing. There was never a doubt
any more how his structures would be received; it was always the same
unqualified success now. He could no longer build anything, whether
a private residence in his Pennsylvania county or a church in Brazil,
without it being obvious that he had done it, and while here and there
he was taken to task for again developing the same airy technique,
they were such fanciful and sometimes even playful buildings that the
public felt assured by its sense of recognition after a time, a quality
of authentic uniqueness about them, which, once established by an
artist as his private vision, is no longer disputable as to its other
values. Stowey Rummel was internationally famous, a crafter of a genuine
Americana in foreign eyes, an original designer whose inventive
childishness with steel and concrete was made even more believably sincere
by his personality. He had lived for almost thirty years in this
same stone farmhouse with the same wife, a remarkably childish thing
in itself; he rose at half-past six every morning, made himself some
French coffee, had his corn flakes and more coffee, smoked four cigarettes
while reading last Sunday's <Herald Tribune> and yesterday's
Pittsburgh <Gazette>, then put on his high-topped farmer's
shoes and walked under a vine bower to his workshop. This was an enormously
long building whose walls were made of rocks, some of them brought
home from every continent during his six years as an oil geologist.
The debris of his other careers was piled everywhere; a pile of
wire cages for mice from his time as a geneticist and a microscope lying
on its side on the window sill, vertical steel columns wired for support
to the open ceiling beams with spidery steel cantilevers jutting
out into the air, masonry constructions on the floor from the time he
was inventing his disastrous fireplace whose smoke would pass through
a whole house, visible all the way up through wire gratings on each
floor. His files, desk, drafting board and a high stool formed the only
clean island in the chaos. Everywhere else his ideas lay or hung in
visible form: his models, drawings, ten-foot canvases in monochromes
from his painting days, and underfoot a windfall of broken-backed books
that looked as though their insides had been ransacked by a maniac.
Bicycle gear-sets he had once used as the basis of the design for
the Camden Cycly Company plant hung on a rope in one corner, and over
his desk, next to several old and dusty hats, was a clean pair of roller
skates which he occasionally used up and down in front of his house.
He worked standing, with his left hand in his pocket as though he
were merely stopping for a moment, sketching with the surprised stare
of one who was watching another person's hand. Sometimes he would
grunt softly to some invisible onlooker beside him, sometimes he would
look stern and moralistic as his pencil did what he disapproved. It
all seemed- if one could have peeked in at him through one of his windows-
as though this broken-nosed man with the muscular arms and wrestler's
neck was merely the caretaker trying his hand at the boss's
work. This air of disengagement carried over to his apparent attitude
toward his things, and people often mistook it for boredom in him
or a surrender to repetitious routine. But he was not bored at
all;
he had found his style quite early in his career and he thought it quite
wonderful that the world admired it, and he could not imagine why he
should alter it. There are, after all, fortunate souls who hear everything,
but only know how to listen to what is good for them, and Stowey
was, as things go, a fortunate man. He left his home the
day after New Year's wearing a mackinaw and sheepskin mittens and
without a hat. He would wear this same costume in Florida, despite his
wife Cleota's reminders over the past five days that he must take
some cool clothes with him. But he was too busy to hear what she was
saying. So they parted when she was in an impatient humor. When he
was bent over behind the wheel of the station wagon, feeling in his trouser
cuffs for the ignition key which he had dropped a moment before,
she came out of the house with an enormous Rumanian shawl over her
head, which she had bought in that country during one of their trips abroad,
and handed him a clean handkerchief through the window. Finding
the key under his shoe, he started the engine, and while it warmed up
he turned to her standing there in the dripping fog, and said, "Defrost
the refrigerator". He saw the surprise in her face, and
laughed as though it were the funniest expression he had ever seen.
He kept on laughing until she started laughing with him. He had a deep
voice which was full of good food she had cooked, and good humor;
an explosive laugh which always carried everything before it. He would
settle himself into his seat to laugh. Whenever he laughed it was
all he was doing. And she was made to fall in love with him again there
in the rutted dirt driveway standing in the cold fog, mad as she was
at his going away when he really didn't have to, mad at their both
having got older in a life that seemed to have taken no more than a
week to go by. She was forty-nine at this time, a lanky woman of breeding
with an austere, narrow face which had the distinction of a steeple
or some architecture that had been designed long ago for a stubborn
sort of prayer. Her eyebrows were definite and heavy and formed two
lines moving upward toward a high forehead and a great head of brown hair
that fell to her shoulders. There was an air of blindness in her
gray eyes, the startled-horse look that ultimately comes to some women
who are born at the end of an ancestral line long since divorced from
money-making and which, besides, has kept its estate intact. She was
personally sloppy, and when she had colds would blow her nose in the
same handkerchief all day and keep it, soaking wet, dangling from her
waist, and when she gardened she would eat dinner with dirt on her calves.
But just when she seemed to have sunk into some depravity of peasanthood
she would disappear and come down bathed, brushed, and taking
breaths of air, and even with her broken nails her hands would come to
rest on a table or a leaf with a thoughtless delicacy, a grace of history,
so to speak, and for an instant one saw how ferociously proud she
was and adamant on certain questions of personal value. She even spoke
differently when she was clean, and she was clean now for his departure
and her voice clear and rather sharp. "Now drive carefully,
for God's sake"! she called, trying to attain a half humorous
resentment at his departure. But he did not notice, and was already
backing the car down to the road, saying "Toot-toot"! to the
stump of a tree as he passed it, the same stump which had impaled the
car of many a guest in the past thirty years and which he refused to
have removed. She stood clutching her shawl around her shoulders until
he had swung the car onto the road. Then, when he had it pointed
down the hill, he stopped to gaze at her through the window. She had
begun to turn back toward the house, but his look caught her and she stood
still, waiting there for what his expression indicated would be
a
serious word of farewell. He looked at her out of himself, she thought,
as he did only for an instant at a time, the look which always surprised
her even now when his uncombable hair was yellowing a little and
his breath came hard through his nicotine-choked lungs, the look of the
gaunt youth she had suddenly found herself staring at in the Tate
Gallery on a Thursday once. Now she kept herself protectively ready
to laugh again and sure enough he pointed at her with his index finger
and said "Toot"! once more and roared off into the fog, his foot
evidently surprising him with the suddenness with which it pressed
the accelerator, just as his hand did when he worked. She walked back
to the house and entered, feeling herself returning, sensing some kind
of opportunity in the empty building. There is a death in all partings,
she knew, and promptly put it out of her mind. She enjoyed
great parties when she would sit up talking and dancing and drinking
all night, but it always seemed to her that being alone, especially
alone in her house, was the realest part of life. Now she could let out
the three parakeets without fear they would be stepped on or that Stowey
would let them out one of the doors; she could dust the plants,
then break off suddenly and pick up an old novel and read from the
middle
on; improvise cha-chas on the harp; and finally, the best part of
all, simply sit at the plank table in the kitchen with a bottle of wine
and the newspapers, reading the ads as well as the news, registering
nothing on her mind but letting her soul suspend itself above all wishing
and desire. She did this now, comfortably aware of the mist running
down the windows, of the silence outside, of the dark afternoon
it was getting to be. She fell asleep leaning on her hand, hearing the
house creaking as though it were a living a private life of its own
these two hundred years, hearing the birds rustling in their cages and
the occasional whirring of wings as one of them landed on the table and
walked across the newspaper to perch in the crook of her arm. Every
few minutes she would awaken for a moment to review things: Stowey,
yes, was on his way south, and the two boys were away in school, and
nothing was burning on the stove, and Lucretia was coming for dinner
and bringing three guests of hers. Then she fell asleep again as soddenly
as a person with fever, and when she awoke it was dark outside
and the clarity was back in her eyes. She stood up, smoothing her hair
down, straightening her clothes, feeling a thankfulness for the enveloping
darkness outside, and, above everything else, for the absence of
the need to answer, to respond, to be aware even of Stowey coming in
or going out, and yet, now that she was beginning to cook, she glimpsed
a future without him, a future alone like this, and the pain made her
head writhe, and in a moment she found it hard to wait for Lucretia
to come with her guests. She went into the living room and turned on
three lamps, then back into the kitchen where she turned on the ceiling
light and the switch that lit the floods on the barn, illuminating
the driveway. She knew she was feeling afraid and inwardly laughed at
herself. They were both so young, after all, so unready for any final
parting. How could it have been thirty years already, she wondered?
But yes, nineteen plus thirty was forty-nine, and she was forty-nine
and she had been married at nineteen. She stood still over the leg
of lamb, rubbing herbs into it, quite suddenly conscious of a nausea
in her stomach and a feeling of wrath, a sensation of violence that started
her shivering.

But they all said, "No, your time will come. Enjoy being a
bride while you can". There was no room for company in the
tiny Weaning House (where the Albright boys always took their brides,
till they could get a house and a farm of their own). So when the
Big House filled up and ran over, the sisters-in-law found beds for
everyone in their own homes. And there was still not anything that Linda
Kay could do. So Linda Kay gave up asking, and accepted
her reprieve. Without saying so, she was really grateful; for to
attend the dying was something she had never experienced, and certainly
had not imagined when she thought of the duties she would have as Bobby
Joe's wife. She had made curtains for all the windows of her
little house, and she had kept it spotless and neat, shabby as it was,
and cooked good meals for Bobby Joe. She had done all the things she
had promised herself she would do, but she had not thought of this.
People died, she would have said, in hospitals, or in cars on the highway
at night. Bobby Joe was gone all day now, not coming in
for dinner and sometimes not for supper. When they first married he
had been working in the fields all day, and she would get in the car and
drive to wherever he was working, to take him a fresh hot meal. Now
there was no work in the fields, nor would there be till it rained,
and she did not know where he went. Not that she complained, or had any
cause to. Four or five of the cousins from East Texas were about
his age, so naturally they ran around together. There was no reason
for her to ask what they did. Thus a new pattern of days began
to develop, for Granny Albright did not die. She lay still on the
bed, her head hardly denting the pillow; sometimes she opened her eyes
and looked around, and sometimes she took a little milk or soup. They
stopped expecting her to die the next minute, but only in the next
day or two. Those who had driven hundreds of miles for the burial would
not go home, for she might die any time; but they might as well
unpack their suitcases, for she might linger on. So the pattern
was established. When Linda Kay had put up her breakfast dishes
and mopped her linoleum rugs, she would go to the Big House. There
was not anything she could do there, but that was where everyone was,
or would be. Bobby Joe and the boys would come by, say "How's Granny"?
and sit on the porch a while. The older men would be there
at noon, and maybe rest for a time before they took their guns off
to the creek or drove down the road towards town. The women and
children stayed at the Albrights'. The women, keeping their voices
low as they worked around the house or sat in the living room, sounded
like chickens shut up in a coop for the night. The children had to
play away from the house (in the barn loft or the pasture behind the
barn), to maintain a proper quietness. Off and on, all day, someone
would be wiping at the powdery gray dust that settled over everything.
The evaporative cooler had been moved to Granny's room, and
her door was kept shut; so that the rest of the house stayed open,
though there was a question as to whether it was hotter or cooler that
way. The dust clogged their throats, and the heat parched them,
so that the women were always making ice water. They had cleaned
up an old ice box and begun to buy fifty-pound blocks of ice in town,
as the electric refrigerator came nowhere near providing enough ice for
the crowds who ate and drank there. One afternoon, as the women
sat clucking softly, a new carload of people pulled up at the gate.
It was a Cadillac, black grayed with the dust of the road, its windows
closed tight so you knew that the people who climbed out of it would
be cool and unwrinkled. They were an old fat couple (as Linda Kay
described them to herself), a thick middle-aged man, and a girl about
ten or twelve. There was much embracing, much exclaiming. "Cousin
Ada! Cousin John"! "Cousin Lura"! "Cousin
Howard"! "And how is she"? "About the same, John,
about
the same". All the women got up and offered their chairs, and
when they were all seated again, the guests made their inquiries and
their explanations. "We were on our vacation in Canada",
Howard explained, in a muffled voice that must have been used to booming,
"and the news didn't catch up with us till we were nearly home.
We came on as soon as we could". There was the suggestion
of ice water, and- in spite of the protest "We're not really
thirsty"- Linda Kay, to escape the stuffy air and the smothering
soft voices, hurried to the kitchen. She filled a big pitcher
and set it, with glasses, on a tray. Carrying it to the living room,
she imagined the picture she made: tall and roundly slim, a bit sophisticated
in her yellow sheath, with a graceful swingy walk that she
had learned as a twirler with the school band. Almost immediately she
was ashamed of herself for feeling vain, at such a time, in such a
place, and she tossed back her long yellow hair, smiling shyly as she
entered the room. Howard (the thick middle-aged man) was looking
at her. She felt the look and looked back because she could not help
it, seeing that he was neither as old nor as thick as she had at first
believed. "And who is this"? he asked, when she passed
him a glass. "Oh that's Linda Kay", Mama Albright
said fondly. "She married our baby boy, Bobby Joe, this summer".

"Let's see", Cousin Ada said. "He's a right smart

younger than the rest"? "Oh yes", Mama laughed. "He's
ten years younger than Ernest. We didn't expect him to come
along; thought for the longest he was a tumor". This joke
was not funny to Linda Kay, and she blushed, as she always did;
then, hearing the muffled boom of Howard's laughter, blushed redder.
"Who is Howard, anyway"? she asked Bobby Joe that
night. "He makes me uncomfortable". "Oh he's a second
cousin or something. He got in the oil business out at Odessa and
lucked into some money". "How old is he"? "Gosh,
I don't know. Thirty-five, I guess. He's been married and
got this half-grown kid. If he bothers you, don't pay him any mind.
He's just a big windbag". Bobby Joe was thinking about something
else. "Say, did you know they're fixing to have a two-day antelope
season on the Double ~X"? He was talking about antelope
again when they woke up. "Listen, I never had a chance to
kill an antelope. There never was a season before, but now they want
to thin 'em out on account of the drouth". "Did he ever
visit here when he was a kid"? Linda Kay asked. "Who"?

"Howard". "Hell, I don't know. When he

was a kid I wasn't around". Bobby Joe took a gun from behind
the door, and with a quick "Bye now" was gone for the day.

Almost immediately Howard and his daughter Debora drove up in

the Cadillac. "We're going after ice", Howard said,
"and
thought maybe you'd go along and keep us company". There
was really no reason to refuse, and Linda Kay had never ridden in
a Cadillac. Driving along the caliche-topped road to town, Howard
talked. Finally he said, "Tell me about yourself", and Linda
Kay told him, because she thought herself that she had had an interesting
life. She was such a well-rounded teenager, having been a twirler,
Future Farmers sweetheart, and secretary of Future Homemakers.
In her sophomore year she had started going steady with Bobby Joe,
who was a football player, Future Homemakers sweetheart, and president
of Future Farmers. It was easy to see that they were made for
each other, and they knew what they wanted. Bobby Joe would be a senior
this year, and he planned to graduate. But there was no need for
Linda Kay to go on, since all she wanted in life was to make a home
for Bobby Joe and (blushing) raise his children. Howard sighed.
"You lucky kids", he said. "I'd give anything if I could
have found a girl like you". Then he told Linda Kay about himself.
Of course he couldn't say much, really, because of Debora, but
Linda Kay could imagine what kind of woman his wife had been and
what a raw deal he had got. It made her feel different about Howard.

She was going to tell Bobby Joe about how mistaken she had
been, but he brought one of the cousins home for supper, and all they
did was talk about antelope. Bobby Joe was trying to get Linda
Kay to say she would cook one if he brought it home. "Cook
a whole antelope"? she exclaimed. "Why, I couldn't even cook
a piece of antelope steak; I never even saw any". "Oh,
you could. I want to roast the whole thing, and have it for the boys".

Linda Kay told him he couldn't do anything like that

with his Grandma dying, and he said well they had to eat, didn't
they, they weren't all dying. Linda Kay felt like going off to the
bedroom to cry; but they were going up to the Big House after supper,
and she had to put on a clean dress and fix her hair a little.

Every night they all went to Mama and Papa Albright's, and
sat on the open front porch, where they could get the breeze. It was
full-of-the-moon (or a little past), and nearly light as day. They all
sat around and drank ice water, and the men smoked, and everybody had
a good time. Once in a while they said what a shame it was, with Granny
dying, but they all agreed she wouldn't have wanted it any other
way. That night the older men got to talking about going possum-hunting
on a moonlight night. Bobby Joe and two or three of the
other boys declared they had never been possum-hunting, and Uncle Bill
Farnworth (from Mama Albright's side of the family) said he would
just get
up from there and take them, right then. After they
had left, some of the people moved around, to find more comfortable places
to sit. There were not many chairs, so that some preferred to sit
on the edge of the porch, resting their feet on the ground, and others
liked to sit where they could lean back against the wall. Howard,
who had been sitting against the wall, said he needed more fresh air,
and took the spot on the edge of the porch where Bobby Joe had been
sitting. "You'll be a darn sight more comfortable there, Howard",
Ernest said, laughing, and they all laughed. Linda
Kay felt that she was not exactly more comfortable. Bobby Joe had
been sitting close to her, touching her actually, and holding her hand
from time to time, but it seemed at once that Howard sat much closer.
Perhaps it was just that he had so much more flesh, so that more of
it seemed to come in contact with hers; but she had never been so aware
of anyone's flesh before. Still she was not sorry he sat
by her, but in fact was flattered. He had become the center of the
company, such stories he had to tell. He had sold oil stock to Bob Hope
and Bing Crosby in person; he had helped fight an oil-well fire
that raged six days and nights.

"But tell me, doctor, where do you plan to conduct the hatching"?
Alex asked. "That will have to be in the hotel",
the doctor retorted, confirming Alex's anticipations. "What I
want you to do is to go to the market with me early tomorrow morning
and help smuggle the hen back into the hotel". The doctor paid
the bill and they repaired to the hotel, room number nine, to initiate
Alex further into these undertakings. The doctor opened
the smallest of his cases, an unimposing straw bag, and exposed the contents
for Alex's inspection. Inside, carefully packed in straw,
were six eggs, but the eye of a poultry psychologist was required to detect
what scientifically valuable specimentalia lay inside; to Alex
they were merely six not unusual hens' eggs. There was little enough
time to contemplate them, however; in an instant the doctor was stalking
across the room with an antique ledger in his hands, thoroughly
eared and big as a table top. He placed it on Alex's lap.
"This is my hen ledger", he informed him in an absorbed way. "It's
been going since 1908 when I was a junior in college. That first
entry there is the Vermont Flumenophobe, the earliest and one of
the most successful of my eighty-three varieties- great big scapulars
and hardly any primaries at all. Couldn't take them near a river,
though, or they'd squawk like a turkey cock the day before Thanksgiving".

The ledger was full of most precise information:

date of laying, length of incubation period, number of chicks reaching
the first week, second week, fifth week, weight of hen, size of rooster's
wattles and so on, all scrawled out in a hand that looked more
Chinese than English, the most jagged and sprawling Alex had ever seen.
Below these particulars was a series of alpha-beta-gammas connected
by arrows and crosses which denoted the lineage of the breed. Alex's
instruction was rapid, for the doctor had to go off to the Rue
Ecole de Medecine to hear more speeches with only time for one sip
of wine to sustain him through them all. But after the doctor's return
that night Alex could see, from the high window in his own room,
the now familiar figure crouched on a truly impressive heap of towels,
apparently giving its egg-hatching powers one final chance before it
was replaced in its office by a sure-enough hen. A knocking at
Alex's door roused him at six o'clock the following morning. It
was the doctor, dressed and ready for the expedition to the market, and
Alex was obliged to prepare himself in haste. The doctor stood about,
waiting for Alex to dress, with a show of impatience, and soon they
were moving, as quietly as could be, through the still-dark hallways,
past the bedroom of the <patronne>, and so into the street. The
market was not far and, once there, the doctor's sense of immediacy
left him and he fell into a state of harmony with the birds around him.
He stroked the hens and they responded with delighted clucks, he gobbled
with the turkeys and they at once were all attention, he quacked
with the ducks, and cackled with a pair of exceedingly flattered geese.
The dawn progressed and it seemed that the doctor would never be
done with his ministrations when quite abruptly something broke his revery.
It was a fine broody hen, white, with a maternal eye and a striking
abundance of feathers in the under region of the abdomen. The doctor,
with the air of a man whose professional interests have found scope,
drew Alex's attention to those excellences which might otherwise
have escaped him: the fine color in comb and wattles, the length and
quality of neck and saddle hackles, the firm, wide spread of the
toes, and a rare justness in the formation of the ear lappets. All search
was ended; he had found his fowl. The purchase was effected and
they made their way towards the hotel again, the hen, with whom some
sort of communication had been set up, nestling in the doctor's arms.

The clocks struck seven-thirty as they approached the hotel

entrance; and hopes that the chambermaid and <patronne> would still
be abed began to rise in Alex's well exercised breast. The doctor
was wearing a long New England greatcoat, hardly necessary in the
June weather but a garment which proved well adapted to the sequestration
of hens. Alex entered first and was followed by the doctor who,
for all his care, manifested a perceptible bulge on his left side where
the hen was cradled. They advanced in a line across the entrance
hall
to the stairway and up, with gingerly steps, towards the first landing.
It was then that they heard the tread of one descending and, in
some perturbation glancing up, saw the <patronne> coming towards them
as they gained the landing. "Bonjour, messieurs, vous etes
matinals", she greeted them pleasantly. Alex explained that they had
been out for a stroll before breakfast while the doctor edged around
behind him, attempting to hide the protuberance at his left side behind
Alex's arm and back. "Vous voulez vos petits dejeuners
tout de suite alors"? their hostess enquired. Alex told her that
there was no hurry for their breakfasts, trying at the same time to
effect a speedy separation of the persons before and behind him. The
doctor, he noticed, was attempting a transverse movement towards the stairs,
but before the movement could be completed a distinct and audible
cluck ruffled the air in the hollow of the stair-well. Eyes swerved
in the <patronne's> head, Alex coughed loudly, and the doctor,
with a sforzando of chicken noises floating behind him, took to the stairs
in long-shanked leaps. "Comment"? ejaculated the surprised
woman, looking at Alex for an explanation but he, parting from
her without ceremony, only offered a few words about the doctor's
provincial American speech and a state of nerves brought on by the demands
of his work. With that he hurried up the stairs, followed by her
suspicious
gaze. When Alex entered his room, the doctor was already
preparing a nest in the straw case, six eggs ready for the hen's
attentions. There was no reference to the incident on the stairs, his
powers being absorbed by this more immediate business. The hen appeared
to have no doubts as to her duties and was quick to settle down
to the performance of them. One part of her audience was totally engaged,
the connoisseur witnessing a peculiarly fine performance of some
ancient classic, the other part, the guest of the connoisseur, attentive
as one who must take an intelligent interest in that which he does
not fully understand. The spectacle progressed towards a denouement which
was obviously still remote; the audience attended. Time elapsed
but the doctor was obviously unconscious of its passage until an unwelcome
knock on the door interrupted the processes of nature. Startled,
he jumped up to pull hen and case out of view, and Alex went to the
door. He opened it a crack and in doing so made as much shuffling,
coughing, and scraping noise as possible in order to drown emanations
from the hen who had begun to protest. It was Giselle, the <fille de
chambre>, come to clean the room, and while she stood before him with
ears pricked up and regard all curiosity, explaining her errand, Alex
could see from the corner of his eye the doctor doing all he could
to calm the displeased bird. Giselle was reluctant but Alex succeeded
in persuading her to come back in five minutes and the door was shut
again. "Who was that, young feller"? the doctor instantly
asked. "That was the <fille de chambre>, the one you thought
couldn't get the eggs out. She looked mighty interested, though.
Anyhow she's coming back in five minutes to do the room".

The doctor's mind was working at a great speed; he rose to put

his greatcoat on and addressed Alex in a muted voice. "Have
you got our keys handy"? "Right in my pocket".

"All right. Now you go outside and beckon me when it's safe".
The hall was empty and Alex beckoned; they climbed the stairs
which creaked, very loudly to their sensitive ears, and reached the next
floor. A guest was locking his room; they passed behind him and
got to Alex's room unnoticed. The doctor sat down rather wearily,
caressing the hen and remarking that the city was not the place for a
poultry-loving man, but no sooner was the remark out than a knock at this
door obliged him to cover the hen with his greatcoat once more. At
the door Alex managed to persuade the increasingly astonished <fille
de chambre> to return in ten minutes. It was evident that a second
transfer had to be effected, and that it had to take place between the
time the <fille> finished the doctor's room and the time she began
Alex's. They waited three minutes and then crept out on tip-toe;
the halls were empty and they passed down the stairs to number nine
and listened at the door. A bustle of sheets being smoothed and pillows
being arranged indicated the <fille de chambre's> presence inside;
they listened and suddenly a step towards the door announced
another important fact. The doctor shot down to the lavatory and turned
the doorknob, but to no effect: the lavatory was occupied. Although
a look of alarm passed over his face, he did not arrest his movements
but disappeared into the shower room just as the chambermaid emerged
from number nine. Alex suppressed those expressions of relief which
offered to prevail in his face and escape from his throat; unwarranted
they were in any case for, as he stood facing the <fille de chambre>,
his ears were assailed by new sounds from the interior of the shower
room. The events of the last quarter of an hour, mysterious to
any bird accustomed only to the predictable life of coop and barnyard,
had overcome the doctor's hen and she gave out a series of cackly wails,
perhaps mourning her nest, but briefly enjoyed. The doctor's
wits had not left him, however, for all his sixty-eight years, and the
wails were almost immediately lost in the sound of water rushing out
from the showerhead. Alex nodded to the maid as though nothing unusual
were taking place and entered the doctor's room. Shortly, the doctor
himself entered, his hair somewhat wet from the shower, but evidently
satisfied with the outcome of their adventures. Without comment he
opened the closet and from its shelves constructed a highboard around
the egg case which he had placed on the floor inside. Next, the hen
was nested and all seemed well. The two men sat for some time, savoring
the pleasure of escape from peril and the relief such escape brings,
before they got up and left the hotel, the doctor to go to the conference
house and Alex to go to the main post office. Alex returned
to the hotel, rather weary and with no new prospects of a role,
in the late afternoon, but found the doctor in an ebullient mood. At
the time Alex arrived he was engaged in some sort of intimate communication
with the hen, who had settled herself on the nest most peacefully
after the occurrences of the morning. "Chickens have short
memories", the doctor remarked, "that's why they are better company
than most people I know", and he went on to break some important
news to Alex. "Well", he began, "It seems like some people
in Paris want to hear more from me than those fellers over at the conference
house do. They've got a big vulture from Tanganika at the
zoo here, with a wife for him, too, very rare birds, both of them, the
only Vulturidae of their species outside Africa. Seems like
she's
willing, but the male just flops around all day like the bashful boy
who took Jeannie May behind the barn and then didn't know what to
do, and the people at the zoo haven't got any vulture chicks to show
for their trouble.

Going downstairs with the tray, Winston wished he could have

given in to Miss Ada, but he knew better than to do what she said when
she had that little-girl look. There were times it wasn't right
to make a person happy, like the times she came in the kitchen and asked
for a peanut butter sandwich. "You know we don't keep peanut butter
in this house", he always told her. "Why, Winston", she'd
cry, "I just now saw you eating it out of the jar"! But he
knew how important it was for her to keep her figure. ##

In the
kitchen, Leona, his little young wife, was reading the morning paper.
Her legs hung down long and thin as she sat on the high stool.

"Here", Winston said gently, "what's these dishes doing not

washed"? The enormous plates which had held Mr& Jack's four
fried eggs and five strips of bacon were still stacked in the sink.

"Leave me alone", Leona said. "Can't you see I'm

busy"? She looked at him impudently over the corner of the paper.

"This is moving day", Winston reminded her, "and I bet

you left things every which way upstairs, your clothes all over the
floor and the bed not made. Leona"! His eye had fastened on her
leg; bending, he touched her knee. "If I catch you one more time
down here without stockings"- She twitched her leg away.
"Fuss, fuss, old man". She had an alley cat's manners.
Winston stacked Miss Ada's thin pink dishes in the sink. Then he
spread out the last list on the counter. "To Be Left Behind"
was printed at the top in Miss Ada; fine hand. Winston took out
a pencil, admired the point, and wrote slowly and heavily, "Clothes
Stand". Sighing, Leona dropped the paper and stood up. "I
guess I better get ready to go". Winston watched her fumbling
to untie her apron. "Here". Carefully, he undid the bow.
"How come your bows is always cockeyed"? She turned and
put her arms around his neck. "I don't want to leave here, Winston".

"Now listen to that". He drew back, embarrassed

and pleased. "I thought you was sick to death of this big house. Said
you wore yourself out, cleaning all these empty rooms". "At
least there is room here", she said. "What room is there going
to be in an apartment for any child"? "I told you what
Miss Ada's doctor said". "I don't mean Miss Ada!
What you think I care about that? I mean our children". She
sounded as though they already existed. In spite of the hundred
things he had on his mind, Winston went and put his arm around her
waist. "We've got plenty of time to think about that. All the
time in the world. We've only been married four years, January".

"Four years"! she wailed. "That's a long time, waiting".

"How many times have I told you"- he began, and

was almost glad when she cut him off- "Too many times"!-
and flounced to the sink, where she began noisily to wash her hands.

Too many times was the truth of it, Winston thought. He hardly
believed his reason himself any more. Although it had seemed a good
reason, to begin with: no couple could afford to have children.

"How you going to work with a child hanging on you"? he asked

Leona. "You want to keep this job, don't you"? He doubted
whether she heard him, over the running water. He sat for a
while with his hands on his knees, watching the bend of her back as she
gathered up her things- a comb, a bottle of aspirin- to take upstairs
and pack. She made him sad some days, and he was never sure why;
it was something to do with her back, the thinness of it, and the
quick, jerky way she bent. She was too young, that was all; too young
and thin and straight. "Winston"! It was Mr&
Jack, bellowing out in the hall. Winston hurried through the swinging
door. "I've been bursting my lungs for you", Mr& Jack
complained. He was standing in front of the mirror, tightening his tie.
He had on his gray tweed overcoat and his city hat, and his brief
case lay on the bench. "I don't know what you think you've been
doing about my clothes", he said. "This coat looks like a rag heap".

There were a few blades of lint on the shoulder. Winston

took the clothesbrush out of the closet and went to work. He gave Mr&
Jack a real going-over; he brushed his shoulders and his back
and his collar with long, firm strokes. "Hey"! Mr& Jack cried
when the brush tipped his hat down over his eyes. Winston
apologized and quickly set the hat right. Then he stood back to look
at Mr& Jack, who was pulling on his pigskin gloves. Winston enjoyed
seeing him start out; he wore his clothes with style. When he was
going to town, nothing was good enough- he had cursed at Winston
once for leaving a fleck of polish on his shoelace. At home, he wouldn't
even wash his hands for supper, and he wandered around the yard
in a pair of sweaty old corduroys. The velvet smoking jackets, pearl-gray,
wine, and blue, which Miss Ada had bought him hung brushed and
unworn in the closet. "Good-by, Winston", Mr& Jack said,
giving a final set to his hat. "Look out for those movers"!
Winston watched him hurry down the drive to his car; a handsome,
fine-looking man it made him proud to see. ##

After Mr& Jack

drove away, Winston went on looking out the window. He noticed a speck
of dirt on the sill and swiped at it with his finger. Then he looked
at his finger, at the wrinkled, heavy knuckle and the thick nail he
used like a knife to pry up, slit, and open. For the first time, he
let himself be sad about the move. That house was ten years off his life.
Each brass handle and hinge shone for his reward, and he knew how
to get at the dust in the china flowers and how to take down the long
glass drops which hung from the chandelier. He knew the house like
a blind man, through his fingers, and he did not like to think of all
the time and rags and polishes he had spent on keeping it up.
Ten years
ago, he had come to the house to be interviewed. The tulips and the
big pink peonies had been blooming along the drive, and he had walked
up from the bus almost singing. Miss Ada had been out back, in a straw
hat, planting flowers. She had talked to him right there, with the
hot sun in his face, which made him sweat and feel ashamed. Winston
had been surprised at her for that. Still, he had liked the way she
had looked, in a fresh, neat cotton dress- citron yellow, if he remembered.
She had had a dignity about her, even barefoot and almost too
tan. Since then, the flowers she had planted had spread all
over the hill. Already the jonquils were blooming in a flock by the front
gate, and the periwinkles were coming on, blue by the porch steps.
In a week the hyacinths would spike out. And the dogwood in early
May, for Miss Ada's alfresco party; and after that the Japanese
cherries. Now the yard looked wet and bald, the trees bare under their
buds, but in a while Miss Ada's flowers would bloom like a marching
parade. She had dug a hole for each bulb, each tree wore a tag with
her writing on it; where would she go for her gardening now? Somehow
Winston didn't think she'd take to window boxes. Sighing,
he hurried to the living room. He had a thousand things to see
to. Still, he couldn't help thinking, we're all getting old, getting
small; the snail is pulling in her horns. In the living
room, Miss Ada was standing by the window with a sheaf of lists in
her hand. She was looking out at the garden. "Winston",
she said, "get the basket for the breakables". Winston had
the big straw basket ready in the hall. He brought it in and put
it down beside her. Miss Ada was looking fine; she had on her Easter
suit, blue, with lavender binding. Halfway across the house, he
could have smelled her morning perfume. It hung in all her day clothes,
sweet and strong; sometimes when he was pressing, Winston raised
her dresses to his face. Frowning, Miss Ada studied the list.
"Well, let's see. The china lemon tree. The alabaster cockatoo".
Winston followed her around the room, collecting the small frail
objects (Christmas, birthday, and anniversary) and wrapping them
in tissue paper. Neither of them trusted the movers. When they
came to Mr& Jack's photograph, twenty by twelve inches in a curly
silver frame, Miss Ada said, "By rights I ought to leave that,
seeing he won't take my clotheshorse". She smiled at Winston,
and he saw the hateful hard glitter in her eyes. He picked up the photograph
and began to wrap it. "At least you could leave it
for the movers", Miss Ada said. "What possessed you to tell me
a clotheshorse would be a good idea"? Winston folded the
tissue paper carefully. "He's used it every day; every morning,
I lay out his clothes on it". "Well, that's over now.
And it was his main present! Leave that fool picture out", she added
sharply. Winston laid it in the basket. "Mr& Jack sets
store by that". "Really, Winston. It was meant to be
<my> present". But she went on down the list. Winston was
relieved; those presents had been on his mind. He had only agreed
with Miss Ada about getting the valet, but he had actually suggested
the photograph to Mr& Jack. "You know what she likes, Winston",
he had said wearily, one evening in November when Winston was
pulling off his overshoes. "Tell me what to get her for Christmas".

"She's been talking about a picture", Winston had told

him. "Picture! You mean picture of me"? But Winston
had persuaded him. On Christmas night, they had had a disagreement
about it. Winston had heard because he was setting up the
liquor tray in the next room. Through the door, he had seen Mr& Jack
walking around, waiting for Miss Ada. Finally she had come down;
Winston had heard her shaking out the skirt of her new pink silk
hostess gown. "How do you like it"? she had asked.

Mr& Jack had said, "You look about fifteen years old".

"Is that a compliment"? "I don't know". He had

stood at a little distance, studying her, as though he would walk around
next and look at the back of her head. "Lovie, you make
me feel naked". Miss Ada had giggled, and she went sweeping and rustling
to the couch and sank down. "You look like that picture
I have at the office", Mr& Jack had started. "Not a line,
not a wrinkle. I look like an old man, compared", and he had picked
up his photograph with the red Christmas bow still on it. "Look,
an old man. Will you wear pink when you're sixty"? "Darling,
I love that photograph. I'm going to put it on my dresser".

"I guess it's children make a woman old. A man gets

old anyhow". After a minute he went on, "People must think the
curse is on me, seeing you fresh as an apple and me old and gray".

"I'll give you a medical certificate, framed, if you like",

Miss Ada had said. "No. All I want is a picture- with
a few lines. Make the man put them in if he has to". After
that they had sat for five minutes without saying a word. Then Miss
Ada had stood up, rustling and rustling, and gone upstairs.
Was it love? I had no doubt that it was. During the rest of the summer
my scholarly mania for making plaster casts and spatter prints of
Catskill flowers and leaves was all but surpassed by the constantly
renewed impressions of Jessica that my mind served up to me for contemplation
and delight. ##

Nothing in all the preceding years had

had the power to bring me closer to a knowledge of profound sorrow than
the breakup of camp, the packing away of my camp uniforms, the severing
of ties with the six or ten people I had grown most to love in the
world. In final separation from them, in the railroad terminal across
the river from New York, I would nearly cry. My parents' welcoming
arms would seem woeful, inadequate, unwanted. But that year was
different, for just as the city, in the form of my street clothes, had
intruded upon my mountain nights, so an essential part of the summer
gave promise of continuing into the fall: Jessica and I, about to
be separated not by a mere footbridge or messhall kitchen but by the
immense obstacle of residing in cruelly distant boroughs, had agreed
to correspond. These letters became the center of my existence.
I lived to see an envelope of hers in the morning mail and to lock
myself in my room in the afternoon to reread her letter for the tenth
time and finally prepare an answer. My memory has catalogued for easy
reference and withdrawal the image of her pink, scented stationery and
the unsloped, almost printed configurations of her neat, studious handwriting
with which she invited me to recall our summer, so many sentences
beginning with "Remember when **h"; and others concerning
camp friends who resided in her suburban neighborhood, and news of her
commencing again her piano lessons, her private school, a visit to
Boston to see her grandparents and an uncle who was a surgeon returned
on furlough, wounded, from the war in Europe. In my letters
I took on a personality that differed from the self I knew in real
life. Then epistolatory me was a foreign correspondent dispatching exciting
cables and communiques, full of dash and wit and glamor, quoting
from the books I read, imitating the grand styles of the authors recommended
by a teacher in whose special, after-school class I was enrolled.
The letters took their source from a stream of my imagination
in which I was transformed into a young man not unlike my bunkmate Eliot
Sands- he of the porch steps anecdotes- who smoked cigarettes,
performed the tango, wore fifty dollar suits, and sneaked off into
the dark with girls to do unimaginable things with them. Like Eliot,
in my fantasies, I had a proud bearing and, with a skill that was vaguely
continental, I would lead Jessica through an evening of dancing
and handsome descriptions of my newest exploits, would guide her gently
to the night's climax which, in my dreams, was always represented
by our almost suffocating one another to death with deep, moist kisses
burning with love. The night after reading her letter about her surgeon
uncle- it must have been late in September- I had a vision
of myself returned in ragged uniform from The Front, nearly dying,
my head bandaged and blooded, and Jessica bending over me, the power
of her love bringing me back to life. For many nights afterward, the
idea of her having been so close to me in that imagined bed would return
and fill me with obscure and painful desires, would cause me to lie
awake in shame, tossing with irresolution, longing to fall into a deep
sleep. The weeks went by, and the longer our separation grew,
the more unbounded and almost unbearable my fantasies became. They
caused my love for Jessica to become warmer and at the same time more
hopeless, as if my adolescent self knew that only torment would ever
bring me the courage to ask to see her again. As it turned out,
Jessica took matters
into her own hands. Having received permission
to give a camp reunion-Halloween party, she asked that I come and
be her date. I went and, mum and nervous, all but made a fool of myself.
Again among those jubilantly reunited bunkmates, I was shy with
Jessie and acted as I had during those early Saturday mornings when
we all seemed to be playing for effect, to be detached and unconcerned
with the girls who were properly our dates but about whom, later, in
the privacy of our bunks, we would think in terms of the most elaborate
romance. I remember standing in a corner, watching Jessica act the
hostess, serving soft drinks to her guests. She was wearing her dark
hair in two, thick braids to attain an "American Girl" effect
she thought was appropriate to Halloween. It made her look sweet and
schoolgirlish, I was excited to be with her, but I did not know how
to express it. Yet a moment did come that night when the adventurous
letter writer and fantasist seemed to stride off my flashy pages, out
of my mind, and plant himself in reality. It was late, we were playing
kissing games, and Jessica and I were called on to kiss in front
of the others. We blushed and were flustered, and it turned out to
be the fleetest brush of lips upon cheek. The kiss outraged our friends
but it was done and meanwhile had released in me all the remote, exciting
premonitions of lust, all the mysterious sensations that I had
imagined a truly consummated kiss would convey to me. It was
at that party that, finally overcoming my timidity, inspired by tales
only half-understood and overheard among older boys, I asked Jessie
to spend New Year's Eve with me. Lovingly, she accepted, and so
great was my emotion that all I could think of saying was, "You're
amazing, you know"? Later, we agreed to think of how we wished
to spend that night. We would write to one another and make a definite
plan. She was terribly pleased. Among my school and neighborhood
friends, during the next months, I bragged and swaggered and
pompously described my impending date. But though I boasted and gave
off a dapper front, I was beneath it all frightened. It would be the
first time I had ever been completely alone with a girl I loved.
I had no idea of what subjects one discussed when alone with a girl,
or how one behaved: Should I hold her hand while walking or only
when crossing the street? Should I bring along a corsage or send
one to her? Was it preferable to meet her at home or in the city?
Should I accompany her to the door of her home, or should I ask to
be invited in? In or out, should I kiss her goodnight? All this
was unknown to me, and yet I had dared to ask her out for the most
important night of the year! When in one letter Jessica informed
me that her father did not like the idea of her going out alone
on New Year's Eve, I knew for a moment an immense relief; but
the letter went on: she had cried, she had implored, she had been miserable
at his refusal, and finally he had relented- and now how happy
she was, how expectant! Her optimism gave me heart. I forced
confidence into myself. I made inquiries, I read a book of etiquette.
In December I wrote her with authority that we would meet
on the steps of the Hotel Astor, a rendezvous spot that I had learned
was the most sophisticated. We would attend a film and, later on,
I stated, we might go to the Mayflower Coffee Shop or Child's
or Toffenetti's for waffles. I set the hour of our meeting for seven.
##

At five o'clock that night it was already dark, and behind

my closed door I was dressing as carefully as a groom. I wore a new
double-breasted brown worsted suit with a faint herringbone design
and wide lapels like a devil's ears. My camp-made leather wallet, bulky
with twisted, raised stitches around the edges, I stuffed with money
I had been saving. Hatless, in an overcoat of rough blue wool,
I was given a proud farewell by my mother and father, and I set out
into the strangely still streets of Brooklyn. I felt superior to the
neighborhood friends I was leaving behind, felt older than my years,
and was full of compliments for myself as I headed into the subway that
was carrying its packs of passengers out of that dull borough and
into the unstable, tantalizing excitement of Manhattan. Times
Square, when I ascended to it with my fellow subway travellers (all
dressed as if for a huge wedding in a family of which we were all distant
members), was nearly impassable, the sidewalks swarming with celebrants,
with bundled up sailors and soldiers already hugging their girls
and their rationed bottles of whiskey. Heavy-coated, severe-looking
policemen sat astride noble horses along the curbside to prevent the
revellers from spilling out in front of the crawling traffic. The night
was cold but the crowd kept one warm. The giant electric signs and
marquees were lit up for the first time since blackout regulations had
been instituted, and the atmosphere was alive with the feeling that
victory was just around the corner. Cardboard noisemakers, substitutes
for the unavailable tin models, were being hawked and bought at makeshift
stands every few yards along Broadway, and one's ears were continually
serenaded by the horns' rasps and bleats. An old gentlemen
next to me held a Boy Scout bugle to his lips and blasted away at
every fourth step and during the interim shouted out, "~V for Victory"!
His neighbors cheered him on. There was a great sense of
camaraderie. How did one join them? Where were they all walking
to? Was I supposed to buy a funny hat and a rattle for Jessica?

It was a quarter of seven when the crowd washed me up among the

other gallants who had established the Astor steps as the beach-head
from which to launch their night of merrymaking. I looked over their
faces and felt a twinge: they all looked so much more knowing than
I. I looked away. I looked for Jessica to materialize out of the
clogging, curdling crowd and, as the time passed and I waited, a fiend
came to life beside me and whispered in my ear: How was I planning
to greet Jessica? Where exactly would we go after the movie?
Suppose the lines in front of the movie houses were too long and we
couldn't get in? Suppose I hadn't brought along enough money?
I felt for my wallet. Its thick, substantial outline calmed me.

But when I saw that it was already ten past seven, I began to
wonder if something had gone wrong. Suppose her father had changed his
mind and had refused to let her leave? Suppose at this very moment
her father was calling my house in an effort to cancel the plans?
I grew uneasy. All about me there was a hectic interplay of meetings
taking place, like abrupt, jerky scenes in old silent movies, joyous
greetings and beginnings, huggings and kissings, enthusiastic forays
into the festive night. Whole platoons were taking up new positions on
the steps, arriving and departing, while I stayed glued, like a signpost,
to one spot. At 7:25 two hotel doormen came thumping
down the steps, carrying a saw-horse to be set up as a barricade in front
of the haberdashery store window next to the entranceway, and as I
watched them in their gaudy red coats that nearly scraped the ground,
their golden, fringed epaulets and spic, red-visored caps, I suddenly
saw just over their shoulders Jessica gracefully making her way through
the crowd. My heart almost stopped beating.

There were thirty-eight patients on the bus the morning I left

for Hanover, most of them disturbed and hallucinating. An interne,
a nurse and two attendants were in charge of us. I felt lonely
and depressed as I stared out the bus window at Chicago's grim,
dirty West Side. It seemed incredible, as I listened to the monotonous
drone of voices and smelled the fetid odors coming from the patients,
that technically I was a ward of the state of Illinois, going to
a hospital for the mentally ill. I suddenly thought of Mary
Jane Brennan, the way her pretty eyes could flash with anger, her quiet
competence, the gentleness and sweetness that lay just beneath the
surface of her defenses. We had become good friends during my
stay at Cook County Hospital. I had told her enough about myself
to offset somewhat the damaging stories that had appeared in local newspapers
after my little adventure in Marshall Field + Co&. She
knew that I lived at a good address on the Gold Coast, that I had
once been a medical student and was thinking of returning to the university
to finish my medical studies. She knew also that I was unmarried
and without a single known relative. She wasn't quite sure that
I felt enough remorse about my drinking, or that I would not return
to it once I was out and on my own again. This had worried her.
"I read those newspaper stories about you", she had said. "You
must have loved that girl very much, but you couldn't have meant
it when you said that you wanted to kill her". "Why do you
say that"? I asked. "I was full of booze and, well, a drunk
is apt to do anything he says he'll do". Nonsense! I grew
up in an Irish neighborhood on Chicago's West Side. Don't
tell me about drunks. You're not the kind to go violent. Were you
in love with that girl"? "Would it make any difference to
you if I were, Mary Jane"? She met my eyes, suddenly
angry. "I wouldn't have gone into nursing if I didn't care about
people. I'm interested in every patient I've helped take care
of. When I think of people like you, well, I"- "You
what, Mary Jane"? "You are young, intelligent, have a
whole lifetime before you to make something worth while of yourself, but
you mess it up with whiskey, indifference, self-destructive attitudes.
I don't blame that girl for breaking her engagement with you. Was
she pretty"? "Oh, yes", I said, feeling annoyed,
"she was very pretty. You don't believe that I'm going back to
medical school and finish, do you"? "Why
should I? I've
worked this ward for three months now. We keep getting the same
ones back again and again. They all mean well, have great promises to
make when they are about to go home, but drinking is their sickness.
You've not seemed like them, but maybe you are. You've treated
your stay here like a big joke. It's not a joke to be sent to a place
like this or to Hanover. I wanted to go to college, to"-

"Why didn't you"? I asked. "Chicago has some of the best"-

Her eyes flashed angrily. "That's what I mean about

you, Anderson", she said. "You don't seem to know much about
reality. I'll tell you why I didn't go to college; I'm
the oldest of six children. My father's a policeman and makes less
than seven thousand dollars a year. There was no money for tuition,
for clothes, for all the things you apparently take for granted. Nurses'
training here doesn't cost anything. They even pay me six dollars
a month. I think it's a good deal. I'm going to become a good
nurse, and I've got two baby brothers that are going to have college
if I have to work at my profession until I'm an old maid to give
it to them". "Do you have a boy friend"? I asked.

"That's none of your business", she said, then changed

the subject. "What about your father and mother, don't you think
of them when you're in a place like this"? "My father
and mother died when I was two years old", I said. "My aunt raised
me. Aunt Mary died when I was doing my military service. I have
no one but myself to worry about". Something in my voice must
have touched her deeply because her anger passed quickly, and she
turned away to keep me from seeing her face. "I'm sorry",
she said. "I don't know what I'd do without my family. We've
always been so close". "Tell me more about them".

Her
eyes became bright as she talked about her father and mother, aunts
and uncles, cousins. Listening, I felt cheated and lonely as only an
orphan can. When she had finished I said: "Your dad sounds
like a good father and a good policeman. I'll bet he wouldn't
be pleased if a rumdum like me were to ask his daughter for a date-
I mean, after I'm out of the hospital, a month or so from now".

"My father is a sergeant of detectives and has been attached

to Homicide for five years. He's a pretty good judge of character,
Anderson. I don't think he'd mind too much if he were sure you'd
decided not to be a rumdum in the future". "What about
you? How would you feel about it if I were to ask you for a date
when I get through at Hanover"? "If I thought you
were serious about going back to school, that you'd learned something
from your experiences here and at Hanover- well, I might consider
such an offer. What about your **h that girl you were going to kill"?

It suddenly seemed very important to me that Mary Jane

Brennan should know the truth about me- that I was not the confused,
sick, irresponsible person she believed me to be. "There
are things about me that I can't tell you now, Mary Jane", I
said, "but if you'll go out to dinner with me when I get out of Hanover,
I'd like to tell you the whole story. I can say this: I'm
dead serious about going back to school. As for that other girl,
let's just say that I never want to see her again. You will get
to come home on long weekends from Hanover, won't you"?
"Yes, I'll get one overnight a month". "We'll go up
to the Edgewater Beach Hotel for dinner", I said. "Do you like
to dance? They always have a good orchestra". "I like
to dance", she said, then turned and walked away. There hadn't
been anything really personal in her interest in me. I knew that.
It was just that she felt deeply about every patient on the ward
and wanted to believe that they might benefit from their treatment there.

Now, riding this hospital bus, feeling isolated and utterly

alone, I knew that she was genuine and unique, quite unlike any girl
I had known before. It seemed the most important thing in my life
at this moment that she should know the real truth about me. It
was a fantastic story. Only two people in the state of Illinois knew
that I was entering Hanover State Hospital under an assumed name,
or why. It was unlikely that any girl as sharp as Mary Jane Brennan
would believe it without proof. But I had the proof, all documented
in a legal agreement which I would show her the moment I was free
to do so. As the bus turned into the main highway and headed
toward Hanover I settled back in my seat and closed my eyes, thinking
over the events of the past two weeks, trying to put the pieces in
order. I wondered suddenly as I listened to the disconnected jabberings
coming from the patient behind me, if I had not perhaps imagined
it all. Perhaps this was reality and Dale Nelson, the actor, was
delusion; a figment of Carl Anderson's imagination.

#FOUR#

I
had come to Chicago from New York early in September with a dramatic
production called <Ask Tony>. It was a bad play, real grade-A
turkey, which only a prevalence of angels with grandiose dreams of
capital gain and tax money to burn could have put into rehearsal. No
one, not even the producer, had any real hope of getting it back to Broadway.
But because it was a suspense gangster story of the Capone
era, many of us felt that it might catch on for a run in Chicago, continue
as a road company, and eventually become a movie. Such optimism
was completely unjustified. The critics literally screamed their
indignation. <Ask Tony> was doomed from the moment Kupcinet leveled
on it in his <Sun-Times> column. We opened on Friday and
closed the following Monday. Out of the entire cast I alone received
good notices for my portrayal of a psychopathic killer. This let me
in for a lot of kidding from the rest of the company, two members of
which were native Chicagoans. We were paid off Tuesday morning
and given tickets back to New York. I felt lonely and depressed
as I packed my bags at the Croydon Hotel. It seemed to me that
my life was destined to be one brilliant failure after another. I
had been among the top third in my class at N&Y&U&, had wanted
desperately to go to medical school, but I'd run out of money and
energy at the same time. Then later I had quit my safe, secure five-a-week
spot on a network soap opera to take a part in this play. It
seemed to me that I was not only unlucky but quite stupid as well. I
knew that I'd soon be back working as an orderly at the hospital
or as a counterman at Union News or Schraffts while waiting for another
acting job to open. It suddenly occurred to me that I did not particularly
like acting, that I was at some sort of crossroads and would
have to decide soon what I was going to do with my life. I
closed the last bag and stood all three at the door for the bellboy
to pick up, then went to the bathroom for a drink of water. The telephone
rang. When I answered it a voice too dignified and British to
be real said, "Is this Mr& Dale Nelson, the actor"?
"All right", I said. "Why don't you bastards lay off for a
while"? "I beg your pardon, sir"? "All right.
This is Dale Nelson **h the actor". "Good. I'm
calling you, Mr& Nelson, at the request of Mr& Phillip Wycoff.
Could you possibly have lunch with him today? His car could pick
you up at your hotel at twelve". I smiled. "You'll send
the Rolls-Royce, of course"? "Yes, of course, Mr&
Nelson". I started to say something else appropriate, but
the man had hung up. I finally went downstairs to the bar off
the main lobby where most of the cast were drowning their sorrows over
the untimely passing of <Ask Tony>. They all bowed low as I approached
them. "All right, you bastards", I said, "the great
actor is about to buy a drink". I laid a tenspot on the
bar and motioned to the bartender to serve a round. He had just returned
my change when the doorman came in off the street to page me. I
walked over to him. "You Mr& Nelson"? he asked.

"That's right". "Mr& Wycoff's car is waiting

for you at the east entrance". I followed him out through the
lobby to the street. An ancient Rolls-Royce, as shiningly
impressive as the day it came off the ship, was parked at the curb. The
elderly chauffeur, immaculate in a dark uniform, stood stiffly at attention
holding open the door of the town car.

I was giving the parked cars the once-over. The Oldsmobile with
the license number ~JYJ 114 was in stall number five.
"Okay", I said to the attendant, "I'll let you know if I close
the deal on the office in this building". I walked with
him back to the entrance. He gave me a ticket on the agency car and
parked it. I was back in ten minutes. "Forgot to get something
out of the car", I told him, showing him my ticket. He
started to say something as I walked in and then suddenly grinned and
said, "Oh, yes. You're the one I was talking to about a monthly
rental. "That's right", I told him. He consulted
the parking ticket, then looked at a notation and said, "You're
in the third row back toward the rear. Can you find it all right"?
"Sure", I told him. I went back to the agency
car and got out an electric bug, one of the newest devices for electronic
shadowing. I always keep a set in the car. I put in new
batteries so as to be certain I'd have plenty of power and on my way
out walked over to the regular parking stalls and stood looking at
them thoughtfully. I waited until the parking attendant was busy
with a customer, then slipped around the back of the car with license
number ~JYM 114, attached the electronic bug to the rear bumper
and walked out. The attendant waved me on. One of the
hardest chores a detective has is hanging around on a city street, trying
to make himself inconspicuous, keeping an eye on the entrance of
an office building and waiting. For the first fifteen or twenty
minutes it's possible to be more or less interested in window displays,
then in people passing by. After a while, however, a person's
mind gets fed up and that magnifies all of the disagreeable physical
symptoms which go with that sort of an assignment. You want to sit down.
Your leg muscles and back muscles feel weary. You're conscious
of the fact that your feet hurt, that the city pavements are hard.

I waited a solid two hours before my man came out of the office
building. He came out alone. I wasn't far behind him when
he entered the parking lot and hurried over to his car. The attendant
recognized me once more and said, "What did you do about that
office"? "I haven't made up my mind yet", I said.
"It's a sublease. I have a couple of them I'm figuring on;
one here and one that's out quite a ways where there's usually curb
parking". "That curb parking is undependable and annoying,
particularly when it rains", he said. I kept trying to
get him to take my money. "Okay", I told him. "I'm in a rush
right now. I know where the car is. Want me to drive it out"?

"I'll have one of the boys get it", he said. "It's

one
of the rules on transients. Regulars drive out their own cars".

"Make it as snappy as you can, will you"? I asked.

"Oh, that's all right", he said. "You're going to be a regular.
You'll get in the office building here. You don't want to
lease a place way out in the sticks. You get business where the business
is, not where it isn't". I grinned at him, handed him
a couple of dollars and said, "By the time you get the parking charge
figured up, there should be a cigar in it for you". I hurried
over to the agency heap, jumped in, started the motor and was just
in time to see the car I wanted to shadow turn to the left.
I was held up a bit trying to make a left turn. By the time I'd
made it he was gone. Traffic was pretty heavy. I turned on the
electric bug, and the signal came in loud and clear. I made
time and picked him up within ten blocks. I stayed half a block behind
him, letting lots of cars keep in between us, listening to the steady
beep **h beep **h beep. After fifteen minutes of traffic driving
he turned to the left. I couldn't see him, but the electric bugging
device gave steady beeps when it was straight ahead, short half
beeps when the car I was following was to the left, and long drawn-out
beeps when it turned to the right. If it ever got behind me, the beep
turned to a buzz. I turned left too soon and got a signal showing
that I was still behind him but he was to the right. After a
while the signal became a buzz and I knew he was behind me. That meant
he'd parked someplace. I made a big circle until I located the
car parked at the curb in front of an apartment house. I found
a parking place half a block away, sat in the car and waited.
My quarry was in the apartment house for two hours. Then he came out
and started driving toward the beach. By this time it was dark.
I could get up close to him where there was traffic but had to drop
far behind when there wasn't traffic. My lights would have been a
giveaway if I'd tried to shadow him in the conventional manner. Moreover,
I'd have lost him if it hadn't been for the electronic shadowing
device **h. His signal was coming loud and clear and then all
of a sudden it turned to a buzz. I circled the block and found he was
in the parking lot of a high-class restaurant. I sat where
I could watch the exit and realized I was hungry. I sat there with
the faint odor of charcoal-broiled steaks tantalizing my nostrils and
occasionally catching the aroma of coffee. My man came out an
hour later, drove to the beach, turned right and after half a mile went
to the Swim and Tan Motel. It was a fairly modern motel with
quite a bit of electrical display in front. I remembered it was the
Peeping Tom place. I waited until my man was coming out of
the office with the key to a cabin before I went in to register.

The card the man I was shadowing had filled out was still on the
counter. I noticed that he was in Unit 12 and that he had registered
under the name of Oscar L& Palmer and wife, giving a San Francisco
address. He had written out the license number of his car
but had transposed the last two figures, an old dodge which is still
good. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred the motel manager doesn't
check the license number on the plates against the license number the
tenant writes out. If he does, it's still better than an even chance
he won't notice the transposition of the numbers, and if he should
notice it, the thing can be passed off as an honest mistake.
I used the alias of Robert C& Richards, gave the first three letters
and the first and last figure of the license number on the agency
heap, but a couple of phony numbers in between. I could have
written anything. The manager of the motel was a woman who apparently
didn't care. She was complying with the law in regard to registrations
but she certainly wasn't checking license numbers or bothering
the tenants. "You mean you're all alone, Mr& Richards"?

"That's right". "Your wife isn't going

to join you- later"? "I don't think so". "If
you expect her to show up", she said, "you'd better put 'and
wife' on there. It's a formality, you know". "Any
difference in the rate"? I asked. "Not to you", she said
smiling. "It's ten dollars either way. There are ice cubes in
a container at the far end and in another by the office. There are
three soft-drink vending machines, and if you should be joined by- anybody-
try to keep things quiet, if you will. We like to run a nice
quiet place". "Thank you", I told her. I took
another sidelong glance at the other registration card, then took the
key to Unit 13 that she had given me and went down long enough to park
the car. The construction was reasonably solid; not like
the cracker-box construction of so many of the motel units that have stucco
all over the outside but walls that are thin enough so you can hear
every movement of the people in the adjoining apartment. I
put a small electric amplifier against the wall on the side I wanted
to case. With the aid of that I could hear my man moving around, heard
him cough a couple of times, heard the toilet flush, heard the sound
of water running. Whoever his companion was going to be, she
was going to join him later. She knew where to come. He didn't have
to telephone. I was so hungry my stomach felt all lines of
communication had been severed. It's one thing to go without food
when you're occupied with some work or when you're simply postponing
a meal, but when you're dependent on someone else and know that you
<can't> eat until he's bedded down for the night, hunger can
be a gnawing torture. I had noticed a drive-in down the road a
quarter of a mile. The batteries on the bugging device I had put on
the car were still fresh enough to send out good strong signals. The
powerful microphone I could press against the wall between my motel
unit and that occupied by the man would bring in the sound of any conversation,
and I was positively nauseated I was so hungry. I
got in the car, drove down to the drive-in and ordered a couple of hamburgers
with everything included, a cup of coffee and the fastest service
possible. The place wasn't particularly busy at that time
of night, and the girl who was waiting on me, who was clothed in the
tightest-fitting pair of slacks I had ever seen on a woman and a sweater
that showed everything there was- and there was lots of it- wanted
to be sociable. "You really in a hurry, Handsome"?
she asked. "I'm in a hurry, Beautiful". "It's
early in the evening to be in a hurry. There's lots of time left".
"There may not be any women left", I said. She gave
a little pout and said, "<I> don't get off work until eleven
o'clock. That's when my evening commences". "I'll
be here at ten-fifty-five", I said. "Oh, <you!>" she
announced. "That's what they all say. What's that thing going
buzz-buzz-buzz in your car"? I said "Darn it, that's
the automatic signal that shows when the ignition key is on. I didn't
turn it off". I reached over and switched off the electronic bugging
device. She went in to get the hamburgers, and I switched
on the device again and kept the signal from Dowling's car coming
in steady and clear until I saw her starting back with the hamburgers.
Then I shut off the device again. She wanted to hang around
while I was eating. "Don't you think it's selfish to have
dinner <before> you go to pick her up"? "No", I said.
"It's a kindness to her. You see, she's on a diet. She'll
eat just a pineapple and cottage cheese salad and I'm to have one
with her so she won't feel out of place". "diets can be
terrible", the girl said. "How much overweight is she"?

"Not a bit", I said, "but she's keeping her figure in hand".

She looked at me provocatively. "Good figures <should>

be kept in hand", she said, and walked away with an exaggerated
wiggle. I turned on the device again, half fearful that I might
find silence, but the buzzes came in loud and clear. When I
switched on the lights for her to come and get the check, I had the
exact change plus a dollar tip.

The fat man said, "All we gotta do is go around the corner".

The gun moved. The thin man said, "That-a-way".

"- second building on the right". "- it says police

right on the door". "- so even if we was as dumb as you
take us for, we could still find it". Roberta and Dave began
to back toward the door. The thin man waved the gun again. He said,
"Right around the corner". "It says water works, but
there is a policeman on duty, too". "A night policeman just
like in the States. You know"? "Canada doesn't have
much of this here juvenile delinquency problem, but we keep a night
policeman all the same on account of the crazy tourists". At
the door, Dave paused to feel for the latch. Roberta glanced up at
her husband. He was going to be sensible and not try to do anything
rash with that gun pointed at him. She measured the distance from where
they stood to the men and the gun, measured the distance from the
men to the back room. She decided to risk it. There was something phony
about all this gun waving- something not quite what it seemed in
the detailed directions for finding the police. Dave had the
latch under his thumb now and he removed his arm from his wife in order
to pull the door open. In a flash she was away to the back, paying
no attention to three angry shouts from the male throats. She tore open
the back door. It was dark inside the room but enough light spilled
from the restaurant behind her to enable her to make out a round table
with a green cloth top. There was a small sideboard with some empty
beer bottles on it and perhaps fifteen wooden chairs. Slowly
she turned to face the men again. Rat-face at the counter was on his
feet. The distance between where she stood and where Dave waited at
the outside door was a hundred miles. Keeping her frightened gaze on
the men at the counter, she began to feel her way to the door. She
sidled along the booths one step at a time. The gun followed her.

As she reached Dave and felt his arm go around her, felt him pull
her to the safety of his person, she knew with the certainty of despair
that something bad had happened to Lauren. The two
men watched as Dave closed the door behind them, watched them cross the
sidewalk to their car. It was getting light. The fat man removed
his apron, put on a greasy and wrinkled jacket, and zipped it over his
paunch. The thin man moved swiftly to the phone and dialed a
number. When he was answered, he said, "Albert? Vince. I'm sending
you a couple of customers- yeah- just get them out of my hair
and keep them out- I don't give a damn what you tell them- only
don't believe a word they say- they're out to make trouble for
me and it is up to you to stop them- I don't care how- and one
more thing- Cate's Cafe closed at eleven like always last night
and Rose and Clarence Corsi left for Quebec yesterday- some shrine
or other- I think it was called Saint Simon's- yeah, yesterday.
Got it"? He turned from the phone and strode to
the front of the restaurant. The white Buick hadn't moved away yet.
Good. A line of worry formed, a twitch pulled his mouth over to one
side. He said, "Grosse? You ain't kidding me- the
kid don't know the name of this town"? "I ain't kidding
you, Vince. How could she? She musta been walking in her sleep-
you seen her yourself in here". "Howda I know"?

"Remember how she looked when Barney held the door for her?
Kinda like a zombie? She was just waking up when we found her at
the garage". Vince swore. "Stupid fools- ain't got
enough brains between the two of you"- Grosse muttered, his
head down, one hand playing with the zipper on his jacket. "- had
enough brains to call ya up so as ya could do sompin about it when the
parents- I coulda let her go go"- His eyes were lowered, so
he couldn't have seen the narrow, pointed face of his companion suddenly
writhe with fury; but he was aware of it just the same. He knew
Vince Steiner was one of those men who had to work up a fury once
in a while just to prove how dangerous he could be. With a curse,
Vince seized the thing nearest, a glass sugar container with a spouted
metal top, and threw it against the wall opposite. The heavy glass
didn't break, but the top flew off; sugar sprayed with a hiss
that was loud in the silence. Not really startled, but careful
to appear so, Grosse sucked noisily on his pipe. Vince cursed steadily.
"Why does everything have to happen to me"? Grosse
quietly got a broom and started to sweep up the sugar. Vince watched
him. His mouth worked over the profanity, the obscenities in his vocabulary.
Once he said, "Why'n hell didn't you look in the back
seat of the car before you drove off? Don't you and Barney ever
use your brains"? The fat man didn't answer. He got one
of the menus and brushed the spilled sugar onto it and carried it to
a box on the floor behind the counter. He returned the menu to its
place between catchup bottle and paper napkin dispenser. He spoke
soothingly. "She don't know nothing about them cars. She thinks
she's in a ordinary garage". "How do you know, stupid?
And put Cate's gun back". "I know". Grosse tucked
the gun under the counter. "- one word of this gets to
Guardino"- "Who's telling Guardino"? Vince
swore again. "You get that kid over to Rose's house".

The fat man winced. He ran a finger down his cheek, tracing the scratch
there. "Why can't I leave her locked up in the tool crib"?

The thin man stopped his pacing long enough to glance at

the clock. "You and Barney get her over to Rose's before it gets
too light. After Guardino's left, we'll dump the kid somewhere
near the border where she kin get home. God help you if she knows where
she's been". Grosse spread his hands. "What am I going
to do with her all day? In the tool crib she can't get away".

"What the hell do I care what you do with her all day?
Just get her where Guardino won't see her and start asking questions".

Grosse swore now. "Dammit all, Vince. I ain't no

baby sitter". Vince shouted finally, "Get her over to Rose's
and I'll come by and see that she stays put". Grosse
rubbed the bridge of his nose where it was swollen. He spoke sullenly.
"You don't hafta get nasty. I wish you luck when you try
scaring that kid". Suddenly he grinned. His voice lost its sullen
tones and he chuckled. "I got one question". "What is it"?
Impatiently. "Are you a poor dumb Canadian or a smart
aleck from the States"? Vince lifted his hand as if to
strike, but his thin lips spread in a smile. Grosse ducked and sniggered.
"Where'd you say you was born"? "In a Chicago
slum just like you. And I ain't going back there on account of
one lousy kid". ##

Lauren Landis rubbed her face against the blanket.

She had cried a little because she was frightened. She could
easily understand why the two men had been startled to find a strange
girl in the back seat of their car (she had figured <that> out), but
she couldn't understand their subsequent actions. Was it because
she had shown panic? Who could blame her for that? It was one thing
to awaken outside a restaurant where your parents were eating and
quite another to awaken in a strange garage and know your parents had
gone on home without you. She was glad the fat man had left. Barney
was not really frightening. She jumped as the little man now appeared
at the window and, reaching through the opening, offered her a
bottle of coke. She smiled at him wetly. Although she found she was
thirsty, she was about to refuse (never, never take candy from a strange
man) when she saw the bottle was unopened. He placed a bottle opener
on the counter. So, <he> understood her panic. She blew her nose
on a tissue and opened the coke bottle. It was icy cold and tasted
delicious. She felt a lift in spirit. When she was finished she pushed
it back. The man was busy doing something to the inside of the door-frame
on the driver's side of a car. She called softly, "Barney".

He looked in her direction but he didn't answer.

She said, "Barney, why is he keeping me here"?

Still no answer. He seemed to be looking at a point above the little

window. Lauren said, "Why can't I call my home? Or
borrow some money from someone and go home by bus? I could send the
money right back". Barney finished the cigarette he had been
smoking. He dropped it and carefully ground it to nothing with the
sole of his heavy shoe. Now he looked at her. He said, "I only work
here". Lauren said, "Please"? But he was back at
work on a car. She dropped her head on her arms on the counter.
How could he be kind one moment and cruel the next? Did he know
something that made him feel sad and sorry for her? And was he afraid
to do anything as definite as releasing her? Her heart was thumping
painfully; the unknown was so much worse than- what dangers lay
ahead for her? What awful thing had she to face in the next few
hours? Something wet and hot was trickling on her wrists. Tears?

With a sturdy act of will she turned her mind away from herself;
as long as she could do nothing constructive about the situation
she was in, she would think about something else. Her mother and father,
for instance. Where were they now? In her mind she followed
the white Buick along the road somewhere between here and the Niagara
River. Her father's attention would be on the road ahead and it
wouldn't deviate an inch until he crossed the bridge at the Falls
and took the River Road to LaSalle and, finally, turned in at their
own driveway at 387 Heather Heights. Then he would yawn and stretch
and shout, "All out. This is the end of the line". And
what would her mother be doing right now? Her mother would be fast
asleep curled up against that wonderful, big, safe, solid shoulder next
to her on the front seat. Lauren Landis was in trouble and
she was alone. ##

Roberta Landis put her hand on her husband's

arm as he slid in the driver's seat beside her. Somewhere birds
were sweetly calling, were answered. Her teeth chattered so that she
made three attempts at speech before she became intelligible. "Dave.
I saw that woman's apron behind the door. There was a wet
spot- she couldn't have been gone long". Dave made some
sound meant to convey agreement. He inserted the car key in the lock.
Roberta was violently trembling. She stammered, "You heard
what he said about police? Why don't we drive around the corner"?

The car door crashed shut. The engine throbbed into life.
Dave said, "I got the message. We're going".

Roberta said, "No. You go. Walk. Suppose Lauren comes

looking for us? I can sit here in the car while you walk around
the corner". The big car sprang away from the curb like something
alive. He said, "I'm not going to leave my wife and my car
out here in sight of those"- Roberta glanced at him and stopped
trembling.
His jowls were spiked by barbs of graying beard. His small, mean eyes
regarded Marty steadily, unblinkingly. His eyes were threaded by little
filaments of red as if tiny veins had burst and flooded blood into
them. As he chewed his gum and exuded wheezing breath, Marty smelt
the reek of bad whiskey. Marty recognized the man. He had driven
the car that passed them on the road outside Admassy's place.
This was Acey Squire, proprietor of the juke joint. Marty
smiled at Squire pleasantly and said, "There was a cab waiting for
me here. Do you know where it might have gone"? Squire chewed
his gum, his jaw moving in a steady rhythm. He looked straight
at Marty. He did not answer. Marty scanned the faces of the others
nearest him, looked into their staring eyes. "Did anyone see
my cab"? he asked, keeping his voice casual. He avoided
showing any surprise or annoyance when no one answered him. "I
have to get back to Jarrodsville", he went on. "I see there are
some cars here. I wonder if one of you gentlemen could drive me back
to town? I'd be happy to pay for the favor, of course".

The seventeen men stood and stared at him for a moment longer. And
then a startling thing occurred. It was so utterly unexpected that
Marty stood for several moments with his mouth hanging open foolishly
after it had happened. There was no word spoken, no apparent
signal given. Yet the men all moved at the same instant.

They piled into the waiting cars, motors roared, the cars sped off.

The station wagon and the old Plymouth headed east toward Jarrodsville.
The Ford and the pickup truck sped west toward Sanford's
Run. In seconds all four cars were out of sight.
Marty Land stood alone on a red-clay road as storm clouds gathered ominously
in the sky again. From a great distance thunder growled and
broke the silence. Land looked back toward the dilapidated house.
He thought he saw a pale face at a window. Perhaps it was Dora
May. Perhaps she would be glad that they hadn't hurt him. There
were other farmhouses nearby. Across the road there was one no
more than a hundred yards away. There was another on this side, a little
further down. There were many more between here and Jarrodsville.
Telephone poles lined the road. They reared tall and mocking. Their
wires stretched out into infinity. Not a single strand of wire reached
into the silent houses beside the red-clay road. There was
nothing he could do but walk. And Jarrodsville was more than three
miles away, down an old dirt road that the rain had turned into a quagmire.

Marty faced east and started walking down the left side
of the road. After he had proceeded a few feet, he paused and turned
up the cuffs of his trousers, which were already damp and mud-caked.
The viscous mud was ankle-deep, and in places great puddles spread across
the road and reflected the murky light. As he approached
the first farmhouse, thunder sounded behind him again, closer now and
louder, like a steadily advancing drum corps. There were several people
on the porch of the farmhouse. There was a very old man and a young
woman and a brood of children ranging from toddlers to teen-agers.
For just an instant he thought of appealing to them for help. Perhaps
they had a car or truck and would drive him into town. Then he realized
the utter futility of the idea. They were staring at him in the same
blank and menacing way that the men outside the gate had stared. Even
the eyes of the smallest children seemed malicious. On his
side of the road there were two farm hands, well back in a field, leaning
against a plow. They, too, stared at him. The drums of
thunder were right behind him now. A foolish thought came into
his head. He remembered a story he had read as a youth. It was probably
one of Kipling's tales of the British Army. It concerned an officer
who had been disgraced and drummed out. The steady roll of the drums
had sounded behind him as he walked between the endless ranks of
the men he had commanded, and each man about-faced and turned his back
as the officer approached. Marty wished these poor farm people would
turn their backs. The fencing by the roadside ended. Now the
dirt highway was bordered on either side by a fairly deep drainage ditch,
too broad to leap over unless you were an Olympic star. The day's
rain had been added to the stagnant water. He was trapped on the
road when he heard the sound of an approaching car. It was coming toward
him. The car was now in sight. Marty's heart skipped a beat when
he recognized it. It was the station wagon that had passed his cab
on the road, the station wagon that had been parked at the Burch farm.
Acey Squire's station wagon. It had headed back toward Jarrodsville.
That had only been a ruse to lure him out on the deserted road.
Now Acey and his friends were returning to seek him out.
The station wagon came to a stop a couple of hundred feet in front of
him, beside a fenced field. Then there was another sound. A second
car was coming from the west, from the direction of Sanford's Run.
It was the Ford that had been outside Burch's farm. Marty
looked helplessly in both directions. It was a narrow road, barely
wide enough for two cars to pass. He could not leave the road because
of the water-filled drainage ditch. When the two cars were equidistant
from him, the station wagon started up again and the Ford gathered
speed. They bore down on him. There was nothing he could do except
jump into the ditch. He jumped, and sank to his knees in muddy
water. As the two cars roared by, there was a high-pitched eerie,
nerve-shattering sound. Marty knew how the Union soldiers must
have felt at Chancellorsville and Antietam and Gettysburg when the
ragged gray ranks charged at them, screaming the wild banshee howl they
called the Rebel yell. For moments he stood in water, shivering
and gasping for breath. He had turned his ankle slightly, and it
pained him. The cars, with their load of howling men, had disappeared
in the distance. There had been two more cars parked at the farm,
a Plymouth and a pickup truck. They would be coming for him next, bearing
down on him from both directions. And then the station wagon and
the Ford would seek him out again. He would be harassed repeatedly
and would escape death by inches time after time, all the way to Jarrodsville.
He still had three miles to go. Back East the more affluent
juvenile delinquents, who could afford hyped-up autos instead of
switch blades as lethal weapons, played this same game and called it
"Chicken". He could not go through the fields. That way
was barred on both sides of the road by a high barbed-wire fence. He
had to make for the section of road just ahead that was bordered by the
rail fence, the section by the farmhouse. At least he could climb
up on the fence when his tormenters roared by again. The Admassy place
could not be far now. He would go in there, climb through the window,
and at least be safe for a little while and able to rest. There
was even a bare chance that the phone had not been disconnected.

He did not dare climb back up to the road. He was deep in water, but
at least they could not reach him there. He splashed on, mud sucking
at his feet with each step, until he reached the end of the drainage
ditch and the beginning of the fence that enclosed the farm. He climbed
back to the road, and he felt utterly exhausted. He stood, panting,
for a moment. And then he saw something that he had not seen before,
and panic gripped him again. The fence, his only refuge when
the metal death came roaring at him, was made of rails, all right,
but the rails were protected by a thick screening of barbed wire that
would rip his flesh if he pressed against it. He lurched on down the
road despairingly, because there was no place else to go. He lost
all sense of dignity. You could not stand on dignity when you were
soaked and muddied and your life was at stake. Probably people were
watching him from the porch or from behind the windows of this farmhouse,
too, but he did not bother to look. He broke into a dogtrot, breathing
heavily, streaming with sweat. He had to reach Admassy's place.
It was his only sanctuary. The fences on both sides of the road
bristled with the barbed wire. The fences stretched on endlessly.

And then he heard them. And now he saw them. The

Plymouth was coming at him from the east, the pickup truck from the west.
They had timed it better this time. They would reach him at almost
exactly the same instant. He stopped stone-still. If he backed
against the fence, one of the cars would brush him as it passed, and he
would be cruelly lacerated by the wire. He stumbled to the middle
of the road and simply stood there, waiting for them, a perfect
target. The cars must have had their gas pedals pushed down to
the floor boards. They were coming on at reckless speed for such old
vehicles. They thundered at him. He held his arms close to his sides
and made himself as small as possible. When the Plymouth neared, it
veered toward him and seemed about to run him down. He forced himself
to stay frozen there. If he moved, he would be in the path of the
other car. He thought the fender of the Plymouth brushed his jacket
as it went by. In a fraction of a second the pickup truck hurtled by
on the other side. The weird, insane sound of the Rebel yell
reverberated again and echoed from the distant hills. He did not
leave the middle of the road. He did not try to run. He trudged on,
his aching eyes focused straight ahead. He was nearing the Admassy
house. He was going to make it, he told himself. And then he heard
a car coming from the east, and he felt as if he would break down and
weep. "Oh, no, not again", he said aloud. "Not again so
soon". There was a new sound, a sound as piercing as the Rebel
yell, yet different. It was the sound of a siren. Now he saw that
the approaching car was painted white, and he began to wave his arms
frantically. It was the prowl car from the sheriff's office.

The car drew up alongside him and stopped. "Get in",

Charley Estes said brusquely. He staggered into the back seat
and lay back, fighting for breath. There was someone in front with
the sheriff. It was Pete Holmes, the cabdriver. Pete turned
around and said to Marty, "I guess you think I'm a yellow-bellied
hound. But there wasn't no use in me staying there. I couldn't
fight a dozen or so of 'em. If I'd stayed, all that I'd have
got was four punctured tires and one busted head. Why didn't you
wait at the Burch house? You must've known I'd gone to get
the sheriff. I was lucky they let me go, I guess". The sheriff
was occupied with maneuvering the car around in a very narrow space.
When it was finally pointed east, he said, "You should never have
come out here alone. This is redneck country. Every man in every
one of these houses is a Night Rider.

Then he turned the telephone over to Rourke, and went into the
bedroom to change his slippers for dry socks and shoes. Rourke was
talking on the phone when he came back. "About an hour, eh? Are
you positive"? He listened a moment and then said, "Hold it".
He turned his head and said, "Alvarez will definitely be in a back
room at the Jai Alai Club on South Beach within an hour. Want
to try and meet him there"? Shayne looked at his watch. That
wasn't too far from Fifth Street, and should allow him to make
Scotty's Bar by midnight. He said with satisfaction, "That's
fine, Tim. I'll be there". Rourke confirmed the appointment
over the phone and hung up. "I don't know what you're getting
into, Mike", he said unhappily. "I hope to Christ **h".

Shayne said briskly, "Grab another drink if you want it. We've
got one other call to make before I meet Alvarez".
"Where"? "It's out in the Northeast section. Have
you got my car here"? "It's parked in front". Rourke
hastily slopped whiskey into his glass on top of half-melted ice-cubes.

"I'd better keep on driving yours", Shayne decided,

"because I'll be going on over to the Beach. I can drop you back
here to pick mine up". He went to a closet to get a light jacket,
and took his hat from beside the door. Timothy Rourke gulped down
the whiskey hastily and joined him, asking, "Who are we going to call
on in the Northeast section"? "A lady. That is, maybe
not too much of a lady. At least, I want to find out whether she's
home yet or not". He opened the door and followed Rourke out.

In Rourke's car, Shayne drove east to Biscayne Boulevard

and north toward Felice Perrin's address which had been given to
him by the Peralta governess. As he drove, he filled in Timothy Rourke
briefly on the events of the evening after leaving the reporter
to go to the Peralta house, and on his own surmises. "I want
to be in Scotty's Bar at midnight when Marsha makes her phone call
there", he ended grimly. "I don't know whether that threatening
letter of hers has anything to do with this situation or not, but
I want to see who takes the call". "This deal at <Las
Putas Buenas> where the two knife-men jumped you", said Rourke with
interest, "that sounds like it was set up with malice aforethought
by the luscious Mrs& Peralta, doesn't it"? "It
does", Shayne grunted sourly, still able to taste her mouth on his
in
the Green Jungle parking lot. "That story of hers about an unsigned
note directing her to be there tonight sounds completely phony. If
it was designed to put me on the spot, it would have to have been written
before Peralta ever called me in on the case". "Do
you think Laura did have the counterfeit bracelet made without her husband's
knowledge"? "I haven't the faintest idea. I
think her husband strongly suspects so, and that's why he called me
in on the thing in direct defiance of his confederates **h and almost
certainly without telling them why he was doing so. Isn't this Felice's
street"? Shayne asked, peering ahead at the partially
obscured street sign. Rourke could see it better out the right-hand
side, and he said, "Yes. Turn to the left, I think, for that
number you gave me. Not more than a block or so". Shayne
got in the left-hand lane and cut across the Boulevard divider. There
was a small, neon-lighted restaurant and cocktail lounge on the southeast
corner of the intersection as he turned into the quiet, palm-lined
street where most of the houses on both sides were older two-story
mansions, now cut up into furnished rooms and housekeeping apartments.

Shayne drove westward from the Boulevard slowly, letting Rourke

crane his head out the window and watch for street numbers. A single
automobile was parked half-way up the block on the left-hand side.
Shayne noted idly that it carried Miami Beach license plates as he
approached, and then saw the flare of a match in the front seat as they
passed, indicating that it was occupied. He turned to see
the briefly-illumed faces of two men in the parked car just as Rourke
said, "It's the next house, Mike. On the right". Instead
of pulling into the curb, Shayne increased his speed slightly to
the corner where he swung left. He went around the corner and parked,
turning off his lights and motor. "I told you, Mike", said
Rourke in an aggrieved voice. "It was back there **h".

Shayne said, "I know it was, Tim". His voice was chilling and
cold. "Did you see the car parked across the street"?
"I didn't notice it. I was watching for numbers **h". "It
has a Beach license, Tim. Two men in the front seat. I got a
quick look at their faces as we went past. Unless I'm crazy as hell,
they're two of Painter's dicks. A couple named Harris and Geely.
Those names mean anything to you"? "Wait a minute,
Mike. In Painter's office this evening **h". Shayne
nodded grimly. "The pair whom Petey is officially commending for
slapping me around and pulling me in". "What are they doing
here"? "A stake-out, I suppose. On Felice Perrin.
Maybe with specific orders to see that I don't make contact with her.
I'm not positive, Tim. I may be wrong. I'll slide out and
walk around the block back to the cocktail lounge on Biscayne. You drive
on and circle back and pull up beside them parked there. You're
a reporter, and you're looking for Miss Perrin to interview her.
Make them show their hands. If they are Beach cops on a stake-out,
they'll admit it to a reporter. They've got no official standing
on this side of the Bay. As soon as you find out if they are Geely
and Harris, come on around to the lounge where I'll be waiting".

Shayne opened the door on his side and stepped out. Timothy
Rourke groaned dismally as he slid under the wheel. "The things you
talk me into, Mike **h". Shayne chuckled. "How often
do they add up to headlines? You should complain". He crossed
the street and walked swiftly southward to circle back to the Boulevard
and north a block to the open restaurant. He was standing
at the end of the bar enjoying a slug of cognac when Rourke came
in six or eight minutes later. The reporter nodded as he moved up beside
him at the bar. Shayne told the bartender, "Bourbon and water",
and Rourke told him, "It's those two, all right. Harris and
Geely. I made them show me their identification before I could be
persuaded not to call on Felice Perrin". Shayne said happily,
"I've got it all worked out, Tim. Take your time with your
drink. I'll beat it. In exactly three minutes, go in that phone
booth behind you and call Police Headquarters. Be excited and don't
identify yourself. Just say that a couple of drunks are having a hell
of a fight down the street, and they better send a patrol car. Then
hang up fast and come walking on down to the Perrin address. I'll
be waiting for you there". The bartender brought Rourke's
drink and Shayne laid a twenty-dollar bill on the bar. He said in
a low voice, "I've got a date with a lady, Mister. Will that
pay for a pint I can take with me. You know how it is", he added with
a conspiratorial wink. "Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker **h
and you don't have any candy for sale here anyhow". "We
sure don't". The bartender winked back at him and palmed the bill.
He turned away and returned in a moment with a pint of brandy in
a small paper sack which he slid over the counter to Shayne.
As the detective slid it into his pocket, Rourke asked sadly, "What
in hell are you going to do, Mike"? "Make a couple of
punk detectives named Geely and Harris wish to God they'd stayed
out of my way this afternoon. Three minutes, Tim". Shayne
strode out blithely, and Rourke checked his watch and sipped his drink,
getting a dime ready to make the telephone call to the police.

Outside, Shayne hesitated when he saw that Rourke had parked his
coupe directly in front of the bar headed south. He walked over to
the right-hand door, opened it and got the reloaded automatic out of
the glove compartment and put it in his hip pocket. He hoped he wouldn't
be forced to use it in taking care of the Beach detectives, but
its weight was comforting at his hip. On this side of the Bay, Miami
Beach cops had no more legal rights than any ordinary citizen, and
Shayne's pistol permit was just as good as theirs. He went
swiftly up the sidewalk toward the parked car with the two Beach detectives
in the front seat. He tugged the brim of his hat low as he approached,
stepped out into the street just behind the car and strode around
to the right-hand side. The big, paunchy man named Geely
was on that side, half-turned in the seat toward his hatchet-faced
companion so that his back partially rested against the closed door.

Shayne turned the handle and jerked the door open before either
of the men were quite aware of his presence in the night. Geely
grunted and slid partly out, and Shayne's left arm snaked in around
his neck to help him, while he set himself solidly on the roadway
and swung his right fist to the big, gum-chewing jaw before Geely could
straighten up. Shayne stepped back to let him slump to the
ground, and then dived over him through the open door into Harris who
was cursing loudly and trying to drag a gun from a shoulder holster,
somewhat impeded by the steering wheel. Shayne locked his big
hands around Harris' thin neck and dragged him out over the seat into
the roadway. He hit him once on the sharp point of his chin and felt
the body go limp. He dropped him into the street a couple of feet
away from Geely's recumbent figure and stared down at both of them
for a moment before kicking the big man lightly in the side. He didn't
stir. They were both breathing heavily, out cold, and Shayne didn't
think either of them had recognized him or could describe him.

He got the pint of liquor out of his pocket and unscrewed the
top, sprinkled the pungent stuff liberally over both men, and then tossed
the open bottle in on the front seat. He turned, then, to
look toward the lighted Boulevard, and saw Rourke's tall, emaciated
figure come out of the lounge and hurriedly start to angle across the
street toward the opposite side. Shayne strolled across to intercept
the reporter in front of the two-story house where Felice Perrin
lived, and asked casually, "Get the police okay"?
"Sure. Said they'd have a patrol car here fast. Let's get inside.
What happened with you"? "Why the two damned fools
got all excited when they saw the bottle, and knocked each other out
cold", Shayne said good-humoredly. "They'll have fun explaining
that to the Miami cops. Got no business over here on a stake-out anyway".

They went up onto a front porch and into a small hallway

where a dim bulb burned high in the ceiling. A row of mailboxes
along the wall had numbers and names on them. Shayne found one marked
PERRIN ~2-A. The stairway on the right was dark, but
there was a wall-switch at the bottom which lighted another dim bulb
at the top, and they went up. There were two front rooms, both
dark behind their transoms, and there was no sound or light in the entire
house to indicate that any of the occupants were awake.
Eight, nine steps above him, Roberts had paused. Mickey paused
with him, waiting, no longer impatient, trying now to think it out,
do a little planning. He looked down over the banister at the hotel desk,
with the telephone and pen set. If I could call in, they
could check the story while we were on our way. I wouldn't have to
tell them I had Roberts- Then he heard it, like a muffled
thud, felt a subtle change in air pressure. He glanced up in time to
see Roberts hurtling down on him from above, literally flying through
the air, his bloody face twisted. Mickey tried to flatten against the
banister, gripped it with one hand, but Roberts' full weight struck
him at that moment in the groin. He gasped for air and the impact
tore
his hand from the rail. He tumbled with Roberts, helpless and in
agony, over and over, down the steps. By a wrenching effort,
he managed to hunch and draw in, to take the final fall on his back and
shoulders rather than his head. He was fuzzy in his mind and, for a
moment, helpless on the lobby floor, but he was conscious, and free of
the weight of Roberts' body. When his vision cleared he saw the taller
one scrambling upward, reaching. Mickey was on his knees when Roberts
turned on the stairs and the razor flashed in his hand. He felt
his empty pocket and knew that Roberts had retrieved the only weapon
at hand. Mickey's eyes fixed on the other's feet, which
would first betray the moment and direction of an attack. He rose stiffly,
forcing his knees to lock. The knifelike pain in his groin nearly
brought him down again. He made himself back off slowly, his eyes
wary on Roberts, who now had no more to lose than he. The pain dulled
as he moved, and he steadied inside. After a moment he extended one
hand, the fingers curled. "Come on", he said. "You want
to be that big a fool- I was hoping for this". Roberts
brushed at his eyes with his free hand and started down the steps. He
held the razor well out to one side. He was invulnerable to attack,
but he could be handled, Mickey knew, if he could be brought to make
the first move. They were eight feet apart when Roberts cleared
the last step. Mickey waited with slack arms. "Any time,
Roberts", he said. "Or would it be easier if I put my hands in
my pockets"? The taunt was lost on Roberts. He advanced
slowly, directly, giving no hint of a feint to either side. He was
just short of arm's reach when he stopped. Mickey backed off two steps,
forcing him to come on again. There was a fixed grin on Roberts'
face, made hideous by the swollen nose and the smeared blood.

Mickey backed off again and Roberts hesitated, then came along.
They moved in a series of rhythmic fits and starts, a macabre dance-
two steps back, two steps forward, two steps back. Mickey felt his shoulders
come up against the wall beside the heavy slab front door. This
was going to be it now, any second, and what he had to remember was
to keep his eye on the razor, no matter what, even if Roberts should
feint with a kick to the groin, the deadly hand was his exclusive concern.

The kick came, sudden and vicious but short. Mickey's

guts twisted with the effort, but he kept his eye on the weapon. It
moved in a silver arc toward his throat, then veered downward. He hunched
his left shoulder into it and slashed at Roberts' forearm with
his own, felt the blade slide off his sleeve. Before Roberts could
move inside to cut upward toward his face, he slammed his right fist into
Roberts' belly. Roberts sagged and slashed at him wildly. Ducking,
Mickey tripped and fell to one side, landing heavily on the wood
floor. Then Roberts was on him, gasping for breath and for a couple
of seconds Mickey lost sight of the blade. He felt it rip at the side
of his jacket and a momentary sting under his left ribs. He got a
knee up into Roberts' belly, used both hands and heaved him clear,
then scrambled to his feet. They were in the center of the lobby now.
Still clutching the razor, Roberts came up into a crouch, shaking
his head. When he charged Mickey was ready. He hit Roberts with his
left fist in the ribs and the razor cut toward him feebly, then wobbled
in mid-air. With his right fist, and nearly all his weight behind
it, he smashed at the bloodstained face. Roberts careened backward,
his back arched, fought for balance and, failing, stumbled against
the newel post at the foot of the stairs. The sound of his head striking
the solid wood was an ultimate, sudden-end sound. He fell on
his side across the lowest step, rolled over once, then lay still.

Mickey found himself leaning against the desk, with stiff hands,
panting for breath. After a minute he went to Roberts, looked at one
of his eyes and felt for a pulse. He couldn't feel any. Roberts appeared
to be dead; if not yet, then soon, very soon. Suddenly it was
cold in the lobby. #@ 12#

It seemed to him that a long time

had passed before he decided what to do. Actually it was no more than
eight or ten minutes, and the sum of his reasoning came to this:

There's no way to take him in now and keep those other two-
Wister and the one who hired the two of them- from finding out about
Roberts and lamming out. The local law here would hold me till they
check clear back home, and maybe more than that. They would have to.
By then they could never catch up with the others. There's no other
way; I'll have to do it myself. He looked at where Roberts
lay sprawled on the step. Mickey was sure now he was dead.

One thing, he thought, nobody knows about it yet. Only me.

He climbed the stairs, went into Roberts' room, found a suitcase

and
packed as much into it as he could. He left a few things. It didn't
have to be perfect. Roberts was a wastrel. Walking away on impulse,
he might logically leave behind what it was inconvenient to carry.

When he had closed the suitcase he found a rag and moved about
the room, wiping carefully everything he might have touched. It took
him nearly an hour. He went to the room he had rented and got into
his overcoat. He left the rest of his things and returned to the lobby.
He set Roberts' suitcase near the front door, went outside and
walked back to the garage. He was mildly surprised to find it was snowing.
It snowed softly, silently, an undulating interruption of his vision
against the night sky. He could feel it on his face and in his
hair. He found the key to the Jeep, got it started and warmed
it up for five minutes. Then he backed out and swung around to the front
drive. He went into the hotel and searched till he found the razor.
He put it in his own pocket for safekeeping. He took the suitcase
out to the Jeep and put it in the front seat. Then he went back for
Roberts. The body was heavier than he had anticipated. He
got it onto his shoulder after some work and carried it outside and down
to the Jeep. He dumped it into the back and made sure it wouldn't
roll out, then returned to the porch and closed the front door, making
sure it was unlocked. He drove carefully in the direction
of the brief tour they had taken earlier. It snowed continuously, but
quietly, evenly. When he reached the dip in the woods, he saw that
already the earlier ruts were barely discernible. The Jeep fought its
way through the low spot and got onto higher ground. He drove in low
gear to the fork in the road and swung as close as possible to the entrance
to the abandoned mine. He parked facing it and left the headlights
on, but when he started into the tunnel with the suitcase, he found
the illumination extended no farther than half a dozen feet into the
passage. He went back and got the flashlight, returned to the tunnel
and carried the suitcase to the edge of the pit he had found earlier.
He tossed the bag into the pit and watched dry dust spray up around
it. When the dust settled, he went back to the Jeep and carefully
worked Roberts' body onto his shoulder. It wasn't like carrying
the suitcase. The soft snow was deceitful underfoot. Twice he
nearly fell. Inside the passage, he had to work his way over the fallen
timber and nearly collapsed under his clumsy burden. By the time
he reached the edge of the pit he was panting and his shoulder and back
ached under the drag of the dead weight. He stood looking down
for a few seconds, then backed up two or three paces from the edge.
There was too much weight casually to toss it away. He could feel
himself falling in with it and being unable to get out. It would be
a bad place to die. It was a bad place for Roberts to wind up, but
Roberts had asked for it. It was too late to worry about that.

He knelt slowly and dumped the corpse onto the floor of the tunnel.
It was a relief to get rid of the weight. He was shaking with tension
and it took him a couple of minutes to get his breath and settle down.
Then he got on his knees and rolled Roberts' body toward the edge.
It hung momentarily on the point of dropping off. He gave it a
strong push, heard it slide, then tumble dryly into the hole. He got
to his feet and threw the flashlight beam into the pit. The body lay
in an awkward sprawl twelve or fifteen feet below the level of the tunnel
floor. Deep enough, he decided. There was little chance
anyone would enter this shaft during the winter. The external signs of
his approach to it would be covered by the snow, probably by the next
day. It wasn't cold enough in the tunnel to preserve the body intact.
By spring it would be a skeleton. He made his way back to
the Jeep. He had started to back into the turn when he remembered
the razor in his pocket. He climbed down, went back into the tunnel and
tossed the razor into the pit. It landed on Roberts' sprawled right
thigh, poised precariously, then slid off to the ground. He went
back once more to the Jeep and started the short drive to the hotel.

In the garage he checked the Jeep for signs of the use he had
made of it. There were stains here and there and he cleaned them off,
using an oiled rag he found on a nail. He wiped the steering wheel
and all the places he might have touched the Jeep. He replaced the
flashlight where it had been stowed, got into his own car and backed it
out of the garage. There were tire marks where it had been, but they
were overlapped by others and on the dusty floor would not be noticeable
except under close scrutiny. Liz Peabody, he thought, might spend
some time grieving for her lost lover, but he doubted that she would
launch an investigation. He judged her to be a woman of some pride,
though not much sense. Still she would probably have sense enough not
to call in the local sheriff to find her boy friend who, apparently,
had run away.

He put in a call to Cunningham from his hotel room. The maid

answered and he decided Nancy must be at work. Jeb cautioned
him not to be too hopeful and then, ignoring his own advice, said excitedly,
"But it does sound good. A woman named Lisa who tells nobody
anything about herself. That courtyard picture with the same initials".

"I'm not exactly jumping up and down with enthusiasm.

I'll call you in a day or so". On the highway he relaxed
and enjoyed the drive over Lake Pontchartrain and along the coast.

Gulf Springs was ten miles inland- more of a quaint old

coast town than those along the beach made garish by tourist attractions.

He checked into a motel and drove downtown. The courthouse

was a white-stucco building minus the customary dome. Instead of the
usual straggling privet hedges and patches of bare dirt in most small-town
squares, the building was hemmed in by a semitropical growth of
camellias and azaleas and a smooth lawn the improbably bright-green
shade of florist's grass. He figured his best bet was a call
on the sheriff. A clerk in the outer office took him in to Sheriff
Carruthers, a big, paunchy man with thick, white hair and a voice with
a senatorial resonance which suggested he should be running for higher
office. Seated in front of the desk, Hank said, "I'm
looking for some information with very little to go on, Sheriff".

He explained the background of the case, ending with the tenuous

clue which had brought him to Gulf Springs. The sheriff's
swivel chair tilted back. "So you're looking for a woman who married
a man who might have lived here a year ago and might have been poisoned.
If there was such a person, I'm afraid she got away with
it. Pity we don't know more about him. I think the best bet is to
go through the society columns of last year and see if any of the grooms
match with the obituaries a little later. It'll be a tedious job,
but if you want to try it, the old newspaper files are in the basement
here in the county supervisor's office". "Maybe the society
editor would remember a good-looking out-of-town bride".

"That's an idea. Mrs& Calhoun has been society editor here

for twenty-five years. The editor says that marriages may be made in
heaven, but weddings are made in Mrs& Calhoun's columns. She's
the one who decides which wedding is to get the lead space in the Sunday
paper and all that". He smiled. "Once, when the editor was
just out of the hospital from a gallstone operation, Mrs& Calhoun
and the mother of the bride went out to his house and fought it out
beside his bed. She'd be sure to remember any bride who was vague about
background. She'd have made a great scientist dedicated to tracking
down heredity and environment. She'd also remember if the groom
died later". He stood up. "I wish you good luck, but please don't
dig up too tough a case for me this close to election. If you
find out anything, come on back here and we'll get started on it".

Tracking down Mrs& Calhoun was like trying to catch up with

Paul Revere between Lexington and Concord. It turned out that
she also sold real estate, cosmetics, and hospital insurance. The wearying
trek stretched into the afternoon- from newspaper plant to insurance
office to her house and back to the newspaper, where he found
her at five o'clock. She was a large woman with a frizzled gray
poodle cut and a pencil clamped like a bit between her teeth while
she hunted and pecked on an old typewriter. It took a couple of minutes
to run through her various
businesses and get down to the one he wanted.
"Last year? Well, I do remember one. From Baton
Rouge. Married a man named Vincent Black. I remember her because
she didn't want her picture in the paper. First bride like that I've
seen in twenty-five years". "What reason did she give"?

"Said she had a breaking-out on her face- some sort

of allergy- and none of her old pictures was good enough. I didn't
see her till several days later at the wedding, and her face looked
like it had never had a
blemish on it. But, of course, you couldn't
see too well through the veil". "Was her name Lisa Carmody"?

"Now how in hell would I remember that"?

"Never mind. I can look it up. Do they still live here"?

"I think they moved away shortly after they were married. He
was a salesman for something or other and must have been transferred.
I'm sure it'll be in the files. We usually run a social note when
somebody moves away". He stood up and thanked her. "Have
they inherited some money or something"? she asked with a
reportorial gleam in her eye. He said vaguely, "Well, it is
a little legal matter, but nothing like that". He hurried across
to the courthouse and caught the sheriff just as he was leaving.

"Sounds like what you're after", he said when Hank had

finished. "Come on, let's hurry down before they lock up for the
day". In the basement the sheriff took him to a small, dingy
office occupied by a tall, thin man informal in rolled-up shirt sleeves.

"Mr& Ferrell **h Hirey Lindsay, chairman of the board

of supervisors. Mr& Ferrell is a private detective, Hirey. Wants
to look up something in the newspaper files, so don't lock him
in here". "Sure", said Hirey. "I'll just leave the
door open. It latches when you close it, so stay as long as you like".

Carruthers crossed the room to a metal door with an open

grillework in the top half. He pulled it open. "Now don't shut this
door. It won't open from inside. Before we built the new jail,
we used to keep prisoners in here overnight sometimes when the old jail
got too crowded. Hirey treats himself a lot better than we do prisoners.
They were a sight more comfortable than the ones in the jail with
the cold air from Hirey's air conditioner coming through the grille".

He walked past the sheriff into a windowless room with

shelves full of big, leather-bound volumes from floor to ceiling all
around the walls. A metal table and four chairs stood in the center.

"They're all here, back to 1865", Carruthers told him.

"It's all right to smoke, but make sure your cigarettes are out
before you leave. And, of course, you know not to take clippings".

"I'll leave the air conditioner on for you, Mr& Ferrell",

said Hirey. "Don't forget to turn it off and close the door
good so it'll latch". Hank thanked them and promised to
observe the rules. When they had gone, he stood for a minute breathing
in the mustiness of old paper and leather which the busily thrumming
air conditioner couldn't quite dispel.
#CHAPTER FOURTEEN#

In
a tour around the stacks, he found that the earliest volumes began on
the left and progressed clockwise around the room. An old weakness for
burrowing in records rose up to tempt him. It was, indeed,
all here- almost a century. From reconstruction to moon rockets. But
he pulled away from the irrelevant old volumes and walked around to
the newer ones. Last year's volume was at the top a couple
of inches below the ceiling. Near it was a metal ladder on casters attached
to the top shelf. He pulled it over, climbed up, and lifted out
the big volume, almost losing his balance from the weight of it. He
staggered over and dropped it on the table. Since Mrs& Calhoun
remembered only that the marriage had been in the spring, he started
to plod through several months. He tried to turn right to the society
page in each one, but interesting stories kept cropping up to distract
him. At last he found it in the paper of April 2. It
told him little more than Mrs& Calhoun had remembered, stating that
it had been a small, modest wedding compared to some of the others.

There was a marked contrast in the amount of information on bride

and groom. Mr& Black's life was an open book, so to speak, from
his birth in Jackson, Mississippi, through his basketball-playing
days at L&S&U& and his attainment of a B&A& degree, which
had presumably prepared him for his career as district sales manager
for Peerless Business Machines. The one line on the bride
said she was Miss Lisa Carmody from Baton Rouge. No mention of
New Orleans. Hank was beginning to feel sharp concern for
Mr& Black. If Mrs& Black was who he thought she was, Mr& Black's
Peerless selling days might well be over. Now for their
exodus from Gulf Springs. This time the search took twice as long,
cutting down on his extra reading, for he had to pick through several
columns of one- and two-line social notes in each issue. He found
it in the edition of May 15. The item said Mr& and Mrs& Black
had moved to Jackson, his home town- so the lovely Lisa had been
with him a year ago. Next on his program was a call to the Jackson
office of Peerless Business Machines to find out if Vincent
Black was still with them- or, more specifically, still with <us>.

He glanced at his watch, saw it was only seven, and decided

to indulge his weakness now. For the next hour he scrambled happily
up and down the ladder, sharing the excitement of reporters who had seen
McKinley's assassination, the Iroquois Theater fire in Chicago,
and the Hall-Mills trial. In the middle of the stock market
crash, he heard a slight noise in the outer office. He turned around,
saw nothing, and decided it must be a mouse. Something else distracted
him, yet there was no sound, only tomblike silence. Then he knew
it was not sound, but lack of it. The air conditioner was no longer
running. He jumped up and turned around to see the metal door
closing. It clanged shut as he sprang toward it. He pressed
his face against the grille. "Who's there"? The light
shining through the grille dimly illumined the office beyond- enough
for him to see there was no one there. Then he heard the outer door
closing. "Hey, come back", he shouted. He thought it must
be some damn janitor or cleaning woman puttering around, figuring
that Hirey had gone off and forgotten to turn off everything and lock
up. _hen the faint beginnings of fear stirred in his mind. Unless
he was stone-blind, the person who'd just left couldn't have missed
seeing Hank through the open door of the brightly lighted room. And
even if he'd somehow missed seeing him, he wouldn't have gone off
and left the light on and door open in the file room. Whoever
it was had meant to shut him up in here, had followed him and waited
till the courthouse and square were deserted. But why? To search
his room at the motel? To come back later and kill him after the stores
had closed around the square and everybody had left? No, they
could
kill him just as easy right now. Nobody could hear what was going
on in this underground vault. Then he heard it and smelled it-
the steady hissing, the dread, familiar pungency of gas escaping.
It must be coming from an upright heater against the far wall in the
supervisors' office. Until now, Lilac Gaylor and Lila Kingsley
had been like an anagram which he could unscramble at his own pace
and choosing. Except for those minutes in her room, he had
lost touch with her as a reality. Gaylor's obsession and Cunningham's
chimera-chasing reminiscences had mesmerized him into thinking
of Lila and Lilac, separately or together, as a legend. They kept drifting
apart and merging again in his mind like some minute form of life
on a microscope slide.

"Well"- said Mr& Skyros. "I take a little time to

think it over". It was awkward: very awkward. There would be all
the nuisance of contacting someone else to take over. Someone reasonably
trustworthy. And Angie would hear about it. And Angie knew-

"Time", said Angie, and he smiled very sweet and slow at

Mr& Skyros. "Not too much time, because I'll be needing some
more myself pretty much right away. And I done favors for you, big
favor not so long back, didn't I, and I'm right here to take on
where Pretty left off. No trouble. I don't want no trouble, you
don't want no trouble, nobody wants trouble, Mr& Skyros".

Dear heaven, no, thought Mr& Skyros, turning away as another

man came in. He straightened his tie at the mirror with a shaking hand;
the genial smile seemed painted on his face. Angie knew- Speak
of dangerous information! Angie knew too much entirely already. Really
he had Mr& Skyros at bay **h "Big favor I done
you. Acourse there's this deal o' Denny's- and Jackie's-
kinda hangin' fire, ain't it, maybe you've been kinda worryin'
over that. And can't say I blame you", said Angie thoughtfully.
"This deal with the ace o' spades. Anything to do with an ace
o' spades, bad luck". Ace of spades- a widow, that was
what they called a widow, these low-class crooks remembered Mr& Skyros
distractedly. All about that Angie knew, too. When things got
a little out of hand, they very rapidly got a lot out of hand- it seemed
to be a general rule. All just by chance, and in a way tracing
back to poor Frank, all of it, because naturally- brothers, living
together- and Angie- Mr& Skyros did not at all like the
look on Angelo's regular-featured, almost girlishly good-looking
face-
or indeed anything about Angelo. Mr& Skyros was not a man
who thought very much about moral principles; he found money much more
interesting; but all the same he thought now, uneasily, of the way
in which Angelo earned his living- and paid for his own stuff-
and eyed the soft smile, and the spaniel-like dark eyes, and he felt a
little ill. "Look, my friend", he said, "in my life I
learn, how is it the proverb says, better an ounce of prevention to a
pound of cure. I stay in business so long because I'm careful. Two
weeks, a month, we talk it over again, and maybe if nothing happens
meanwhile to say the cops know this and that, then we make a little deal,
isn't it"? "That's a long while", said Angie.
"I tell you, you want to leave it that way, I don't fool around
with it. I go over to Castro and get fixed up there. I can't wait
no two weeks". And Mr& Skyros didn't like Angie, but
what with Prettyman and three of his boys inside, and not likely
to come out- And Angie such a valuable salesman, Prettyman said-
All the nuisance and danger of getting in touch with practically a
whole new bunch of boys- Why did everything have to happen at once?

Denny said stupidly, "Why, you ain't turning Angie down,

are you, Mr& Skyros? I mean, we all figured- I guess anybody'd
figure- Angie"- Angelo gave him an affectionate
smile. "Mr& Skyros too smart a fellow want to get rid of me",
he said. "It's O&K&, Denny, everything's O&K& Ain't
it, Mr& Skyros"? Oh, God, the name repeated over
and over, anybody to hear- Not being a fool, Mr& Skyros knew
why. But aside from everything else, it would scarcely be pleasant
to have dealings with one who was nominally an underling and actually
held- you could say- the whip hand. And all because of Domokous!
If Mr& Skyros had dreamed of all the trouble that young man would
eventually cause- Of course, there was another factor. Angie
worth his weight in gold right now, but these users, they sometimes
went down fast. Who knew, Angie might not last long **h.
The sweat broke out on Mr& Skyros' forehead as he realized he had
been actually thinking- hoping- planning- perhaps- Good
God above, had not Domokous been enough? He patted Angelo's
thin shoulder paternally. "Now you don't want to go talking
that way", he said. "Sure, sure, you're the one take over
for Pretty, soon as I get the supply, get started up again, isn't
it? You don't need worry, Angelo. I tell you, I know how it is
with you, my friend, I sympathize, and I'll make it a special point-
a special favor- get in touch, and get some stuff just for you.
I don't know if I can manage it tonight or tomorrow, but I'll try
my best, my friend. You see, you got to remember, we all got schedules,
like any business! My man, he won't be around a little while,
he just fixed me up with this stuff they took out of the Elite. It's
awkward, you see that, isn't it"? "Well, that's
your business, Mr& Skyros", said Angie, and his dreamy eyes
moved past Mr& Skyros' shoulder to gaze vaguely out the ground-glass
window. "I appreciate it, you do that. Sure. We don't none
of us want no trouble **h. I'm in a room over the Golden Club on
San Pedro, you just ask for me there, you want see me. Or maybe I
call you- tonight? About nine o'clock, I call and see if you
got any. A couple decks for me, Mr& Skyros- and ten-twelve to sell,
see, I like to have a little ready cash". "Oh, now,
I don't know about that much", said Mr& Skyros. "And you know,
Angelo, Pretty, he always keeps it a strict cash basis, like they
say"- "Sure", said Angie. "Sure, Mr& Skyros.
Fifty a throw, that the deal? Sure. I bring you the cash, say five
hundred for ten decks. Never mind how much I cut it, how much I
get", and he smiled his sleepy smile again. "Standard deal, Mr&
Skyros. You go 'n' have a look round for it". "I
do my best", said Mr& Skyros earnestly, "just for you, my friend.
This is awkward for everybody, isn't it, we all got to put up with
inconvenience sometimes. But I do my best for you". He got out
of there in a hurry, brushing past another man in the door, mopping
his brow. The expedient thing- yes, very true, one must make
do as one could, in some situations. It could all be straightened out
later. Not very much later, but when things had settled down a little.
After this deal with the Bouvardier woman went through. An ace
of spades **h. He was not a superstitious man, but he felt perhaps
there was a little something in that, indeed. He rather wished he
had never got into the business, and still- scarcely to be resisted,
a nice little profit with not much work involved, easy money **h
##

Katya Roslev, who would be Katharine Ross so very soon now,

rang up her first sale of the day and counted back the change. She
did not notice that the customer seized her purchase and turned away without
a smile or a word of thanks. Usually she marked the few who did
thank you, you didn't get that kind much in a place like this: and
she played a little game with herself, seeing how downright rude she
could act to the others, before they'd take offense, threaten to call
the manager. Funny how seldom they did: used to it, probably. The
kind who came into a cheap store like this! Grab, snatch, I saw
that first! and, Here, I'll take this, I was before <her>,
you wait on me now or I don't bother with it, see! This kind of
place **h She'd be through here, just no time at all- leave
this kind of thing 'way behind. Off at noon, and she'd never come
back. Never have to. Money- a lot of money, <enough>. She'd
be smart about it, get him to give it to her in little bills so's
nobody would suspect- maybe couldn't get it until Monday account
of that, the banks- But that wasn't really long to wait. Not when
she'd waited so long already. No need say anything at all
to the old woman. She had it all planned out, how she'd do. She'd
say she didn't feel good on Sunday, couldn't go to church- there'd
be a little argument, but she could be stubborn- and when the
old woman had gone, quick pack the things she'd need to take, all
but the dress she'd wear Monday, and take the bag down to that place
in the station where you could put things in a locker overnight, for
a dime. Then on Monday morning- or it might have to be Tuesday-
get up and leave just the usual time, and last thing, put the money
in an envelope under the old woman's purse there in the drawer. She
wouldn't be going to get that for an hour or so after Katya had left,
go do the daily shopping. No need leave a note with it, either-
or maybe just something like, Don't worry about me, I'm going away
to make a better life. A better life. Escape. It wasn't
as if she wanted <much>. She didn't mind working hard, not as if
she figured to do anything <wrong> to live easy and soft- all she
wanted was a <chance>, where she wasn't marked as what she was.
To
be Katharine Ross, and work in a nicer shop somewhere, at a little
more money so she could have prettier clothes, and learn ladies' manners
and all like that, and get to know different people than up to now,
not just the ones like her here, with foreign-sounding names, the
ones went to the same church and- Different place, different job, different
people, she'd be all different too. Prettier, she'd do her
hair another way; smarter, and wear different kinds of clothes-
she'd be Katharine Ross, just what that <sounded> like.
"You've give me the wrong change", said the customer sharply. "Think
I can't count"? Katya made up the amount in indifferent
silence. She was listening to other voices, out of the future.
Some of those vaguely-imagined new, different people. <Oh, Katharine's
awfully nice, and pretty too, I like Katharine- Let's
ask Katharine to go with us, she's always lots of fun- Katharine>-

Soon, very soon now **h #@ SIXTEEN @#

Mendoza
didn't
wake until nearly nine-thirty. It was going to be another hot
day; already the thermometer stood close to ninety. Alison was still
sound asleep; he made fresh coffee and searched through all the desk
drawers for more cigarettes before thinking of her handbag, and found
a crumpled stray cigarette at its bottom, which tasted peculiarly
of face powder. He left a note propped on the desk asking her to call
him sometime today, and drove home. After he'd got out fresh
liver for Bast, he paused to look at her crouched daintily over her
dish. Surely she <was> just a trifle fatter around the middle? He
seemed to remember reading somewhere that Abyssinians had large litters,
and suffered a dismaying vision of the apartment overrun with a
dozen kittens. "<@Y que sigue despues?>- what then"? he
asked her severely. "A lot of people are so peculiar that they don't
like cats, it's not the easiest thing in the world to find good
homes for kittens- and, damn it, you know very well if I have them
around long, impossible to give them away! And I suppose now that
you've finally grown up, if a little late, you'd go on producing
kittens every six months or so. Yes, well, it's a pity to spoil your
girlish figure- which all those kittens would do anyway- but I
think when you've raised these we'll just have the vet fix it so
there won't be any more **h. I wonder if the Carters would take one
**h. And it's no good looking at me like that", as she wound affectionately
around his ankles.
Maude's long nose unexpectedly wrinkled up. "Happened to be in the
hall! Happened to hear you quarrel about her! Oh, well, you can't
really blame Lolotte. She lost her beau to you". But
she was talking of Emile when she saw the black line of the open door;
Sarah remembered it clearly. Maude went on. "I've got to
get busy. Miss Celie's taken to her bed, with the door locked. She
opened it an inch and poked out the keys for me to give you. Here"-
She thrust a bundle of keys strung on a thick red cord into Sarah's
hand. "Not that there's much use in locking up the smokehouse
and the storehouse now. Drink your coffee"- Coffee.
"It's- cold". Maude suddenly looked quite capable of pouring
it down her throat. "I don't want it", Sarah said, firmly.

"Oh. Well- I'll take it down with me as I go".

Maude swooped up the cup and hiked up her top hoop as if about to take
off with a racing start. At the door she turned back, her Roman nose
looking very long now and satiric. "I forgot. Ben and Lucien
have gone after them. It's just like that book your Northern friend
wrote- except there aren't any ice floes to cross and no bloodhounds".

"I don't know Mrs& Stowe **h. What can they

do if they find them"? "They can't do anything. It's
silly, childish, running after them like that. I told Ben so. But
of course the paterollers won't be of any help, not with everything
so upset and that Yankee cavalry outfit they say is running around,
God knows where". She had swished away, she had been gone for
a long time probably when Sarah suddenly realized that she ought to
stop her, pour out the coffee, so no one would drink it. But then the
so-called coffee was bad enough at best, cold it was all but undrinkable-
especially that cup! She was deeply, horribly sure
that Lucien had filled it with opium. She had quarreled with Lucien,
she had resisted his demands for money- and if she died, by the provisions
of her marriage contract, Lucien would inherit legally not
only the immediate sum of gold under the floorboards in the office, but
later, when the war was over, her father's entire estate. She
felt cold and hot, sticky and chilly at the same time. Now wait a
minute, she told herself, think about it; Lucien is not the only person
in this house who could have put opium in that coffee. She
had lost a bottle of opium- but that was on the trip from New Orleans.
Or someone had taken it during her first day at Honotassa. Yes,
she had missed it after her talk with Emile, after dinner, just
before Emile was shot. Rilly or Glendora had entered her room while
she slept, bringing back her washed clothes. So somebody else could
have come in, too- then or later while she was out of the room. It
would have been easy to identify as opium by its odor. It was
not very reasonable to believe that Lucien had procured unprocurable
opium and come back to Honotassa with a formed plan to murder her. He
didn't even know that she was there. And he certainly couldn't
have guessed that she would resist his demand for the gold or that she
was not the yielding- yes, and credible fool he had every right to
expect. No, he had been surprised, unpleasantly surprised, but surprised.

Then somebody else? Don't question, Rev had said, don't

invite danger. Her skin crawled: Lolotte had told Maude that
she was in the hall and the door was open. Sarah had begun to tell
Lucien of Emile, she had begun to question and a little draft had crept
across the room from the bedroom door, open barely enough to show
a rim of blackness in the hall. So Lolotte- or anybody- could have
listened, and that somebody could have already been supplied with
the missing bottle of opium. That was not reasonable either.
The opium had disappeared before Emile's death and whoever shot him
could not by any stretch of the imagination have foreseen Sarah's
own doubts and suspicions- and questions. She began to doubt
whether there had been in fact a lethal dose of opium in the cup. So
suppose somebody only wished to frighten her, so she would leave Honotassa!

That made a certain amount of logic. Added to the

argument was the fact that while she might have tasted the coffee if it
had been still hot, she might even have drunk some of it, she wouldn't
have taken enough to kill her, for she would have been warned by
its taste. No. It was merely an attempt to frighten her.

She wouldn't go back to New York as Maude suggested; she wouldn't

run like a scared cat. But- well, she'd be very careful.

She dressed and the accustomed routine restored to her a sense

of normal everyday life. But before she left her room she dug
into her big moire bag, took out the envelope holding her marriage contract
and the wax seal had been broken. So somebody else knew what
would happen to her father's money if she died. Rev had known
all along. Rev didn't need to break the wax seal, read the contract
and find out. He could conceivably have wished to make sure; Rev
loved Honotassa, it was like a part of his breath and body; Rev
had stressed the need for money. Rev would never have tried to give her
poison! She thrust the envelope back in the bag; there
was no point in locking it up in the armoire now, it was like locking
the barn after the horse was stolen. And in all likelihood, by now,
there was more than one person in the house who knew the terms of her
marriage contract. There was no point either in telling herself again
what a fool she'd been. She went downstairs and received another
curious shock, for when Glendora flapped into the dining room in
her homemade moccasins, Sarah asked her when she had brought coffee
to her room and Glendora said she hadn't. "Too much work this morning,
Miss Sarah- everybody gone like that"- Sarah swallowed
past another kind of constriction in her throat. "Well, then
who brought it"? "Miss Maude. She come to the kitchen
and say she take it up to you". Glendora put down a dish of lukewarm
rice. "Not much breakfast this morning. I don't know what we're
going to do, Miss Sarah". "We've got to eat",
Sarah said, curtly, because a chill crawled over her again. Maude?

Glendora flapped away. The rice wasn't dosed with opium,

indeed it had no taste at all, not a grain of salt. She ate what she
could and went out along the covered passageway, with the rain dripping
from the vines. In the kitchen Glendora was despairingly picking
chickens. "Get a basket", Sarah told her. "We'll go to the
storehouse". Glendora dropped a chicken and a flurry of feathers,
and went with her through the drizzle, to the storehouse. Sarah
found the right key and unlocked the door. It was a long,
low room, like a root cellar, for it was banked up with soil, and vines
had run rampant over that, too. It was dark but dry and cool. She
doled out what Glendora vaguely guessed were the right amounts of dried
peas, eggs, cornmeal, a little salt. The shelves looked emptier than
when Miss Celie had shown her the storeroom, and since the men from
the Commissary had called; there were certainly now fewer mouths
to feed but there was less to feed them with. She took Glendora to
the smokehouse, unlocked it and saw with satisfaction there was still
a quantity of hams and sides of bacon, hanging from the smoke-stained
rafters. They wouldn't go hungry, not yet. And the fields
were green and growing. "Can't you possibly imagine what life is
going to be like, here"? Maude had said. Maude.
She
sent Glendora back to the house, her basket and her apron laden. She
stood for a moment, rain dripping from the trees over her head, thinking
of Maude. Maude had the opportunity to take the bottle
of opium from Sarah's room. Maude had the cool ruthlessness to d
o
whatever she made up her mind to do. She couldn't see how her death
could affect Maude. She couldn't see any reason why Maude would
attempt to frighten her. Besides, there was something hysterical and
silly, something almost childish about an attempt to frighten her. Maude
was neither hysterical nor silly and Sarah rather doubted if she
had ever
been childish. Yet Maude had suggested that Sarah return to
New York. Maude could have shot Emile- if she'd had a reason
to kill him. There was no use in standing there in the drizzle,
trying to find a link between Emile's murder and opium in a cup
of coffee. She started back for the house, saw a light in the
office, opened the door and surprised a domestic little scene which was
far outside the dark realm of murder or attempted murder. Rev, George
and Lolotte were mending shoes. a lighted lamp stood on the
table that dusky, drizzling day. They were all three bent over a shabby
riding boot; George had a tack hammer. Lolotte held a patch of
leather, Rev steadied something, a tiny brad, waiting for George's
poised hammer. George said, "First thing I do when I get to Vicksburg
again, is get me a Yankee"- "With boots on",
Lolotte laughed softly. Rev looked up and saw her. Lolotte
looked up and stiffened. George didn't look up at all. There was
no way to know, no way to guess whether any one of them was surprised
at Sarah's appearance, believing her to be drugged and senseless-
and just possibly dead. Rev said, "Come in, Sarah. Reckon
you know the news". And what news, Sarah thought as satirically
as Maude might have said it. Rev's face was suddenly
a little fixed and questioning. He turned to George and Lolotte. "Take
your cobbler's shop somewhere else. I want to talk to Sarah".

Everything in the office, the spreading circle of lamplight,

the patch of leather in Lolotte's hands. George poised with the
tack hammer, the homely, everyday atmosphere, all denied an attempt
at murder. A rush of panic caught Sarah. "No. Not now. I mean
I've got to- to see to the kitchen. Glendora"- Her words
jumbled together and she all but ran from the office and from the
question in Rev's face. Now why did I do that? she thought
as warm, drizzling rain touched her face. She was no schoolgirl,
refusing to bear tales. As she reached the kitchen door the answer
presented itself; if she told anyone of the opium it must be Lucien,
her husband. It might be, indeed it had already proved
to be a marriage without love, but it was marriage. So she couldn't
choose Rev as a confidant; it must be Lucien. Always provided
that Lucien himself had not dosed her coffee with opium, she thought,
as coldly and sharply, again, as Maude might have said it.

She paused at the kitchen door, caught her breath, told herself firmly
that the opium was only an attempt to frighten her and went into
the kitchen, where Glendora was eyeing the chickens dismally and Maude
was cleaning lamp chimneys. Glendora gave a gulp. "Miss Sarah,
I can't cut up no chicken. Miss Maude say she won't".
Again the homely, everyday details of daily living refuted a vicious
attempt to frighten her- or to murder her. The homely everyday
details of living and domestic requirements also pressed upon her
with their immediate urgency. No matter what had happened or hadn't
happened,
somebody had to see about dinner. She eyed the chickens with, if she
had known it, something of Glendora's dismal look and thought with
a certain fury of the time she had spent on Latin verbs.

"Not since last night. I didn't think there was any reason
to". "Maybe there isn't. Speak to him again anyway. Try
talking to some of the fellows he works with, friends, anyone. Try
to find out how happy he is with his wife, whether he plays around with
women. You might try looking into his wife too. She might have been
talking to some of her friends about her husband if they've been
having any trouble". "You think Black's the one we're
looking for"? "Yeah. I think he might be", Conrad
said grimly. "Then again he might not". "What a stinking
world", Rourke said. "Black is Gilborn's best friend".

"I know". "Will you be coming back soon"?

"I think so. I'm on my way to see the Jacobs woman".

"Gilborn's secretary? What for? You don't think Gilborn

is the-"? "I don't think anything. I just don't
want to go off half-cocked before picking up Black, that's all".
Conrad interrupted. "Gilborn says he was in his office all day with
her yesterday. I'd like to make sure. Also, it's just possible
she might know something about Mrs& Gilborn". "Right.
I'll see you later". "Aren't you ever going to go home"?

"It sure as hell doesn't look like it, does it?

I'm telling you, if these corpses ever knew the trouble they put us
to, they'd think twice before letting themselves get knocked off".

"Remember to tell that to the next corpse you meet".

Conrad hung up and sat on the small telephone-booth bench, massaging

his right leg. He looked at his watch. It was ten minutes
before eleven. He wondered how long it would be before they
had a signed confession from Lionel Black. Thirty years' experience
let him know, even at this early stage, that Black was his
man. But he still wanted to know why. ##

It was a cold, windy

day, the day after Kitti's death, but Stanley Gilborn paid no
attention to the blustery October wind. After leaving Conrad,
Gilborn had no destination. He simply walked, not noticing where
he was, not caring. He stopped automatically at the street corners,
waiting for the traffic lights to change, unheeding of other people, his
coat open and flapping. As he walked, he tried to think.

Of Kitti. Of himself. Mainly of what Conrad had tried to make

him believe. There was nothing coherent about his thinking.
It was a succession of picture-images passing through his mind: the
same ones, different ones, in no apparent sequence, in no logical succession.

The enormity of what Conrad had told him made it impossible

for Gilborn to accept, with any degree of realism, the actuality
of it. Conrad's words had intellectual meaning for him only.
Emotionally, they penetrated him not at all. <Whoever he
was and your wife were intimate>. Gilborn remembered Conrad's
exact words. They made sense and yet they didn't. He knew Conrad
had told him the truth. It was so. Yet it wasn't so. It wasn't
so because it couldn't be so. When Kitti was alive-
and he remembered the pressure of her hand resting lightly on his arm-
she had been the center of his life. She was the sun, he the
closest planet orbiting around her, the rest of the world existing
and visible yet removed. For fifty-five years he had lived, progressing
towards a no-goal, eating, working, breathing without plan,
without reason. Kitti had come along to justify everything. She
was his goal, she was his reason. He had lived all his life waiting
for her. Not once, in the time that he had known her, had he
ever considered the possibility, not once, not for one one-thousandth
of a second, of her infidelity. He could not consider it now.
Not really. And so he walked, aimless again. The walk ended,
inevitably, right in front of his hotel building. The doorman began
to nod his head automatically, then remembered who Gilborn was, what
had happened to him the night before. He looked at Gilborn with undisguised
curiosity. Gilborn passed by him without seeing him.

He crossed the lobby and rode up in the elevator lost in his own
thoughts. In the apartment itself, all was still. The police
were no longer there. There was no evidence that anything was different
than it had been. Except that Kitti wasn't there.

Without taking off his coat, he sat in the blue chair which still
faced the closed bedroom door. At last, sitting there, in the
familiar surroundings, the truth began to sink in. <Who?>

He felt no anger towards Kitti, no sense that she had betrayed

him. <Who?> She was all he had, everything he had,
everything he wanted. Someone had taken her away from him.
<Who>? Where there is a left-hand entry in the ledger, there
is a right-hand one, he remembered from his school days. Where
there is a victim, there is a killer. <Who>?
<Whoever he was and your wife were intimate>. He rose from
the
chair, took off his coat. Quickly, he went into the bedroom.

The bed still showed signs of where Kitti had lain. Gilborn stood
there for a long time. He looked at the bed unblinkingly. The
bed was empty now. Kitti would lie in it no more. He would lie in
it no more. Gilborn wondered whether Kitti had lain in that
same bed with **h <Who?> For thirty minutes, Stanley Gilborn
stood there. At the end of the half-hour, racking his brains,
thinking over and over again of Kitti, her friends, her past, he
left the bedroom. <Who?> He could think of no answer.

Gilborn put on his coat again. Before leaving, he took one

last, lingering look at the apartment. He knew he would never
see it again. In the street, walking as quickly as he could, Stanley
Gilborn was a lone figure. ##

On Blanche Jacobs, Kitti

Gilborn's death had a quite different effect. For Blanche, Kitti's
death was a source of guilty, but nonetheless soaring, happy hope.

In Blanche's defense, it must be said she was unaware of

the newborn hope. If anyone had asked her, she would have described
herself only as nervous and worried. The figures on the worksheet
paper in front of her were jumping and waving around so badly it
was all she could do to make them out clearly enough to copy them with
the typewriter. She wondered whether Stanley would call. She
wanted to be with him, to give him the comfort and companionship she
knew he needed. She had skipped her lunch hour in the fear that
he might call while she was out. He hadn't. And now she was feeling
sick, both from concern about Stanley and hunger. Why hadn't
he called? Men, she reflected, even men like Stanley,
are unpredictable. She tried to think of his unpredictable
actions in the eleven years she had known him and discovered they weren't
so many after all. Stanley really was quite predictable.
That was one of the things she liked about Stanley. He wasn't like
so many other men. The dentist last night, for instance. Dinner and
the movies had been fine. He had taken her upstairs to say good night.
She had invited him in for coffee. It was in the kitchen,
as she was watching the kettle, waiting for the water to boil, that
he had grabbed for her. Without warning, without giving her a chance
to prepare for it. From behind, he had put his arms on her shoulders,
turned her around, and pressed her to him, so close she couldn't breathe.

Later, she apologized for the long scratch across his face,
tried to explain she couldn't help herself, that the panic arose
in her unwanted. But he hadn't understood. When he left, she knew
she would never see him again. Stanley wasn't like that. She
could always predict what Stanley was going to do, ever since she
first met him. Except for that one morning. The morning he walked
in to announce to her, blushing, that he was married. She thought
she was going to die. She had assumed before then that one
day he would ask her to marry him. Blanche couldn't remember
when she had first arrived at this conclusion. She thought it was
sometime during the second week she worked for Stanley. It was nothing
that he said or did, but it seemed so <natural> to her that she
should be working for him, looking forward to his eventual proposal.

She was thirty-one years old then. Her mother was already considerably
concerned over her daughter's future. But Blanche had been
able to maintain a serene and assured composure in the face of her widowed
mother's continued carping, had been able to resist her urgings
to date anyone who offered the slightest possibility of matrimony.

For Blanche, it was only a matter of time before Stanley would

propose. It was to be expected that Stanley would be shy, slow in
taking such a momentous step. Stanley went along in life, she knew,
convinced that he deserved the love and faith of no woman. As a result,
he never looked for it. But one day, she expected, he would
somehow discover, without her having to tell him, that there was such
a woman in the world; a woman who was willing to give him love, faith,
and anything else a woman could give a husband. Indeed, there was
a woman who, unasked, had already given him love. Unquestionably, Blanche
loved Stanley. And then, unexpectedly, Stanley made his
announcement. On that first day, Blanche literally thought
she was going to die, or, at the very least, go out of her mind.

It might have been easier for her if Kitti Walker hadn't been
everything that Blanche was not. Kitti was thirty years younger
than Stanley, taller than Stanley, prettier than Stanley had any
right to hope for, much less expect. Kitti could have married a score
of men. There was no reason for her to marry someone like Stanley
Gilborn, there was no <need> for her to marry Stanley. Kitti
had come into the office, on somebody's recommendation, because she
needed help in preparing her income tax return. Stanley had
filled out the return and because, when he was finished, it was close
to the lunch hour, he had politely asked Kitti to join him, never expecting
her to accept. Blanche knew all this because the door
to Stanley's office was open and, without straining too hard, she could
hear everything that was said. Stanley had gone out, saying
he would be back in an hour. He hadn't come back for over two.

After that day, Blanche still didn't know exactly what had happened.
There were mornings when Stanley came in late, afternoons when
he left early, days when he didn't come in at all. Blanche
knew something must be causing Stanley's new, strange behavior but
she never once connected it with Kitti Walker. It was too unprecedented.
Then, six weeks after the day Kitti first came into the office,
Stanley announced he and Kitti were married. Somehow, Blanche
managed to cover the stunned surprise and offer her congratulations.

That night the two of them left for a week's honeymoon

in Acapulco. While they were away Blanche came into the office
every morning, running things as she had always run them for Stanley,
going through the week in a dazed stupor, getting things done automatically,
out of habit. For exactly one week, she was able to
continue in this manner. On the morning of Stanley's return,
however, her strength left her. Two hours of watching his serenely
happy face, listening to his soft humming as he bent over his penciled
figures, and Blanche had to leave. She stayed away for ten
days. Those ten days were like no others that Blanche had known.
Mostly, she stayed in bed. She didn't tell anyone, even her
mother, what was wrong. She refused to have a doctor, insisting there
was nothing a doctor could do for her.

"Right", said the fingerprint man. "Also, if you're going

to believe those prints, you'll have to look for a killer who's
a top-grade piano player". He demonstrated by playing an
imaginary piano, doing a staccato passage with a broadly exaggerated attack.
To make it clearer he shifted to acting out, but with no change
of manner, the killing of Rose Mallory. His hands snatched at an
imaginary bucket, swooping down hard to grab it and coming away with equal
snap like a ball that's been bounced hard. In the same way he
pantomimed grasping a mantel and bouncing cleanly off that, pressing his
hands against the floor and bouncing cleanly off that. He was moving
like a ballet dancer, playing for laughs. If Rose Mallory's killer
acted this way, catching up with him was going to be a cinch. We'd
know him by his stretch pants and the flowers he'd wear twined
in his hair. Perhaps if Felix had first come upon us when this
boy was not cavorting so gaily up and down the hall outside the murdered
woman's apartment, we might have had less trouble convincing Felix
of our seriousness. This, you will remember, was still New Year's
Day. By the time Felix turned up it was early afternoon, which, one
would think, would be late enough so that by then, except for small children
and a few hardy souls who had not yet sobered up, it could have
been expected that people would no longer be having any sort of active
interest in the previous night's noisemakers and paper hats.

Felix was the exception. He had retained his hat and his horn,
and,
whatever fun might still be going, he was ready to join it. That, incidentally,
might give you some idea of what Felix was like. After
all, he hadn't happened upon us in that second-floor hall without warning.

The ~ME's boys had finished their on-the-spot examination

and the body had been removed for autopsy. The meat wagon, therefore,
was not out in front of the house any more, but the cluster
of squad cars was still there and there was a cop on the door downstairs
to screen any comings and goings. There was, furthermore, the
crowd of curious onlookers gathered in the street and a couple more cops
to hold them at a decent distance. Just put yourself in Felix's
place for a moment. You're a taxpayer, householder, landlord.
You've been away from home for the New Year festivities, but now
the party is over and you come home. Defining sobriety in the limited
sense of being free from the clinical symptoms of the effects of alcohol
ingested and not yet eliminated from the system, you are sober.

You still have your paper hat and you're wearing it, but then,
it is an extraordinary paper hat and, in addition to anything else
you may be, you are also the sculptor who created that most peculiar dame
out in the back yard. It's not too much to assume that you will
have a more lasting interest in paper hats than will Mr& Average
Citizen. You have your paper horn clutched in your big, craggy
fist, and for your entrance you have planned a noisy, colorful and exuberant
greeting to your friends and tenants. You find your house a
focus of public and police attention. Can you imagine yourself forgetting
under the circumstances that you are approaching this startling and
unexpected situation so unsuitably hatted and armed with a paper horn?

Maybe one could be startled into forgetfulness. You shoulder

your way through the cluster of the curious and you barge up to
the
cop on the door. You identify yourself and ask him what's going
on. Instead of answering you, he sticks his head in the door and shouts
up the stairs. "Got the upstairs guy", he bellows. "The
owner. Do I send him up"? Then he turns back to you. "Go
on in", he says. "They'll tell you what's cooking".
Even then, as you go into the house oppressed by the knowledge that
something is cooking and that your house has passed under this unaccountable,
official control, could you go on forgetting that you still had
that ridiculous hat on your head and you were still carrying that childish
horn in your hand? What I'm getting at is that we
were fully prepared for Felix's being an odd one. We'd seen his
handiwork out in the back yard, and the little his tenants had told us
of him did make him sound a little special. We were not, however, prepared
for anything like the apparition that confronted us as Felix came
up the stairs. He, of course, must have been equally unprepared for
what confronted him, but, nonetheless, I did find his reaction startling.

If Felix was still wearing the hat and carrying the horn
because he'd forgotten about them, he now remembered. He came bounding
up the stairs and joined the dance. He adjusted the hat, lifted
the horn to his lips as though it were a flute, and fell in alongside
our fingerprint expert to cavort with him. Our man stopped
dead and glowered at Felix. Felix threw his head back and laughed a
laugh that shook the timbers of even that solidly built old house. This
was a bull of a man. He was big-chested, big-shouldered and heavy-armed.
His face was ruddy and heavy and unlined, and when he laughed
he showed his teeth, which were big and white and strong and unquestionably
home-grown. I don't remember ever seeing teeth that were quite
so white and at the same time quite so emphatically not dentures. His
hair had receded most of the way to the back of his neck. He had only
a fringe of hair and he wore it cropped short. It was almost as white
as his teeth. For a man of his mass he was curiously short. He
wasn't a dwarf but he was a bit of a comic figure. A man with so big
and so staggeringly developed a torso and such long and powerful arms
is expected to stand taller than five feet five. For Felix it was
a bit of a stretch to make even that measurement. The man was just this
side of being a freak. We waited till he had finished laughing,
and that gave us a few moments for taking stock of him. He was dressed
in a manner <Esquire> might suggest for the outdoor man's
country weekend. Dark gray sports jacket, lighter gray slacks, pink flannel
shirt, black silk necktie. His eyes were clear. He was freshly
shaved, and if there had been any alcohol in him we could never have
missed detecting some scent of it on the massive gusts of his laughter.
Not even a whiff. Eventually he subsided. "Felix"?
Gibby said. "Me", he said merrily. "Me, the happy one".

"That much Latin we remember", Gibby said dryly. "You

always live up to your name, always like this, always making happy"?

"I try", Felix said blithely. "The world is full

of blokes who put their hearts into making the tragic scene. I've
never noticed that it improves things any". "Bully for you",
Gibby said. "What's the rest of your name"? "No
rest of it. Felix is all there is". "All there ever
was"? "The past I leave to historians", Felix intoned,
demonstrating that he could be pompous as well as happy. "You
live in the present"? "In the present", Felix proclaimed.
"For the future. Is there any other time in which a man
can live"? "We", Gibby announced, "are not philosophers.
We are Assistant District Attorneys. This gentleman is a police
officer. He is a fingerprint specialist. Could your future, your
immediate future, be made to include taking us upstairs, giving us a
bit of space in which our friend can work, and making available to him
your finger tips"? The happy one could never have looked
happier. This was more than joy. It was ecstasy. "Those lovely
whorls", he chortled. "So intricate, so beautiful. Come right
along. I love fingerprints". He was prancing along the
hall, heading for the next flight of stairs. Gibby called him
back. "We're here because of what happened last night", he said.
"Past, yes, but important. Since it is important, for the record
let's have the full name". "That important"? Felix
asked. "That important". "Grubb", Felix whispered.

"Felix Grubb"? Gibby asked, not bothering to whisper.

"Shh", Felix implored. "I can't see what would

make it necessary for you to know. Nothing could make it necessary
to proclaim it to the whole world". Obligingly Gibby lowered
his voice. "Felix Grubb"? he repeated. "No. Edmund, but
not for years. For years it's been just Felix. First thing I did
after my twenty-first birthday was go into court and have it officially
changed, and this is something I don't tell everybody. That was
almost forty years ago". Having volunteered that he was a man
of about sixty, he bounded up the stairs and with each leap rendered
the number less credible. This was a broth of a boy, our Felix, and
nothing was more obvious than the joy he took in demonstrating how agile
he was and how full of juice and spirit. We followed him up the
stairs. The cops would gather up Connor and the foursome on the third
floor and bring us those of them who would voluntarily submit to fingerprinting.

You may think we didn't need Nancy and Jean,

but you always get what you can when you can, and we had no guarantee
that a fingerprint record on them couldn't be useful before we were
through with this case. Also, if we had excluded the ladies we would
have to that extent let the whole world know at least that much of where
we stood. The killer, if in our present group, would certainly be
interested in knowing that much, and even though with the fingerprint
evidence what it was I could see no way he could use this bit of information
to improve on his situation, there might always be some way. If
you can possibly avoid it, you don't hand out any extra chances.

Felix took us into his studio. It was that oddly shaped space
at the very top of the house, where ceiling heights had to accommodate
themselves to the varying angles of roof slope. At each angle of its
pitch a big skylight had been fitted into the roof and all these skylights
were fitted with systems of multiple screens and shades.
When Felix first opened the door on it, all these shades were tightly
drawn and the whole studio was as dark as night. He quickly fixed
that, rolling back the shades on some of the skylights and adjusting screens
on the others. He flew about the place making these adjustments
and it was obvious that what he was doing was the fruit of long experience.
None of his movements was tentative. There was no process of
trial and error. Starting with the room completely blacked out, as it
was when we came in, he unerringly fixed things so that the whole place
was bathed in the maximum of light without at any point admitting
even so much as a crack of glare. Expecting something more-than-average
wacky, I was surprised by what we found. There was no display
of either works in progress or of finished work. Here and there on
work table or pedestal stood a shape with a sheet or a tarpaulin draped
over it. These shapes might have been mad, but there was no telling.
They were all completely shrouded. The equipment was solid and heavy
and in good condition. Everything was orderly and it seemed to be
arranged for the workman's comfort, convenience and efficiency. There
were tools about but they were neatly kept. There was no confusion
and no litter. Supplies of sheet metal were neatly stacked in bins.
ANDY DID NOT SEE the newspapers the next day. Someone on his staff-
he suspected it was Ed Thornburg- intercepted them and for
this Andy was grateful. He finally fell asleep around six in
the morning with the aid of a sleeping capsule, a crutch he rarely used,
and didn't awaken until early afternoon. Memory flooded him the
instant he opened his eyes and the sick feeling knotted his stomach.

Outside his window bloomed a beautiful summer day. Presumably

the same sun was shining upon little Drew also, and those who had kidnapped
him. But where? It was still a very big world, despite all
the modern cant to the contrary. Hub was sitting in a chair that
blocked the hall door. He was dozing, perhaps the only sleep he'd
gotten. He snapped to alertness at Andy's entrance. "Sorry,
Mr& Paxton. Nothing new. Lot of people waiting to see you, though".

"Reporters"? "Our own people. Questions

about the show tonight". Hub picked up the telephone. "Shall I
let them know you're awake"? "I suppose. How's Lissa,
do you know"? Hub considered. "Some better. She's
got plenty of guts, Mr& Paxton. You want me to call her"?

"She expecting me to"? Hub shook his head so Andy told

him not to bother. The only reason for contacting Lissa was to comfort
or to be comforted. He could not manage the former or expect the
latter; they had nothing to give to each other. The omission might
look peculiar to outsiders, but Andy could not bring himself to go through
the motions simply for the sake of appearances. He had little
time to himself, anyway. As the afternoon sped toward evening,
the suite saw a steady procession of Paxton aides pass in and out, each
with his own special problem. Thornburg arrived with the writers.
They had spent the morning revising the act, eliminating all the gay
songs, patter and dancing with a view of the best public relations. What
remained lacked the original verve but it was at least dignified,
as befitting the tragic circumstances. Raymond Fox reported that the
orchestra had hastily rehearsed "Cradle Song" in case it was needed.
Charlie Marble was back and forth on several occasions, first
to confer with Andy on the advisability of cancelling the Las Vegas
engagement- they decided it was wise- and later to announce that
a prominent comedian, also an agency client, had agreed to fill the casino's
open date. And once Bake slipped in, pale and drawn, last
night's liquor still on his breath with some of today's added to it.
He asked if there was anything he could do. Andy invented a job to
keep him busy, sending him ahead to El Dorado to supervise last minute
arrangements. But from Rocco Vecchio, they heard nothing.

At last it was time to depart. Hub, nosing about, spotted

reporters in the lobby, so Andy was hustled away quietly through the
hotel's service entrance in a strange car which Hub had procured somewhere.

They succeeded in eluding the curious at the hotel, but

there was no chance of avoiding them at the nightclub. El Dorado
was surrounded by a mob. They overflowed the parking lot, making progress
by automobile difficult. Long before he reached the protection of
the stage door, Andy was recognized. Word of his arrival spread through
the crowd like a brushfire. They surged around him, fingers pointing,
eyes prying. It was not a hostile gathering but Andy sensed the
difference from last night's hero-worshippers. They had come not
to admire but to observe. "It's worse inside", Thornburg
informed Andy. "Skolman's jammed in every table he could find.
Under the heading of it's an ill wind, et cetera". Backstage
was tomblike by contrast. Andy's co-workers kept their distance,
awed by the tragedy. But in his dressing room was a large bouquet
and a card that read, "We're with you all the way". It was signed
by everyone in the troupe. Andy couldn't help but be touched.
He instructed Shirl Winter to compose a note of thanks to be posted
on the call board. Bake was waiting to report that Lou DuVol
had been sobered up to the point where he could function efficiently.
Andy gathered that this had been no small accomplishment. Bake himself
looked better; any kind of job was better than brooding.

Andy told him, "Bake, I wish you'd talk to Skolman, see if

some kind of p& a& system can be rigged up outside. It's just barely
possible with this crowd that the kidnapper wasn't able to get
a table. I wouldn't want him to miss the message". "I'll
try. Skolman isn't going to like it much, though, giving away
what he should be selling". Skolman wasn't the only one who
didn't care for Andy's scheme. A short time later, Lieutenant
Bonner stomped into the dressing room. "I got a bone to pick with
you, Mr& Paxton. It's those damn loudspeakers". Andy
rolled up the revised script he had been studying. "What about them"?

"They're going to louse me up good. My men have been

here all afternoon, setting up for this thing". Bonner explained
that, with the nightclub's cooperation, the police had occupied El
Dorado like a battlefield. Motion picture cameras had been installed
to film the audience, the reservation list was being checked out name
by name, and a special detail was already at work in the parking lot
scrutinizing automobiles for a possible lead. However, it was virtually
impossible to screen the mob outside, even if Bonner had manpower
available for the purpose. "I want you to have the speakers taken
out". Andy sighed. "Seems like we're never going to see
eye to eye, Lieutenant. Didn't they tell you what I wanted the p&
a& system for"? "Sure, I know. But it's such a
long shot"- "No longer than yours. What do you expect
to get tonight, anyway? You think somebody is going to stand up in
the audience and make guilty faces? Or have a sign on his car that
says, 'Here
Comes the Paxton Kidnapper'"? Andy crumbled the
script in his fist. "I can't stop you from doing what you think
is right. But don't try to stop me, either". "Someday",
Bonner said, "you're going to ask us for help. I can hardly
wait". "What you don't understand is that I'm asking
for it now". But Bonner departed, still full of ill will. He
had gotten stuck with a job too big for his imagination; he had to
cling to routine, tested procedures. To act otherwise would be to admit
his helplessness. But, admit or not, Bonner was helpless. The
crime showed too much planning, the kidnappers appeared too proficient
to be caught by a checklist. Andy's performance was scheduled
for eleven o'clock. He stalled for a half-hour longer, hoping to
hear something from Vecchio about the ransom money. Bake and Shirl
Winter, on separate telephones, could not reach him at any conceivable
location in Los Angeles, nor could they secure any clear-cut information
regarding his efforts. Bake cursed. "The sweaty bastard's
probably halfway to Peru with our money by now". When no one
smiled, he felt constrained to add, "Just kidding, natch".

Thornburg popped in to advise, "Andy, Skolman's sending up

smoke signals. You about ready"? "What's he complaining
about"? Bake asked. "They're drinking, aren't they"?

"No. We got a bunch of sippers out there tonight. I guess

nobody wants to pass out and miss anything". Thornburg added in a
lower voice but Andy overheard, "They act more like a jury than an
audience". Andy said, "Well, I guess we can't wait any
longer. Hub, you stick by the stage door. If Rock shows up during
the number- or you hear anything- give me the signal".
Shirl Winter said, "I'll stay on the phone, Mr& Paxton. There's
a couple of call-backs I can work on". "You're
a sweetheart- but leave one line open. He may try to phone us". Andy
passed into the corridor, their "good lucks"! following him.
It was what they said before every performance but tonight it sounded
different, as if he really needed it. They were right. The
act, cut to shreds and hastily patched together during the afternoon,
had not been rehearsed sufficiently by anyone. The result had nothing
of the polish, pace or cohesion of the previous night. Here's where
luck would normally step in. But this was no ordinary show and Andy
knew it. Whether he sang well or badly had nothing to do with it.
The audience had come not to be entertained but to judge. Twenty-four
hours had changed him from a performer to a freak. Within this
framework, what followed was strained, even macabre. Eliminating
the patter and the upbeat numbers left little but blues and other songs
of equal melancholy. The effect was as depressing as a gravestone,
the applause irresolute and short-lived. Yet Andy plowed ahead, mouthing
the inconsequential words as if they possessed real meaning, and
gradually his listeners warmed to him. Their clapping grew more fervent;
the evening was still not beyond salvaging, not as a show but for
him as a person. The worst was yet to come. As Andy
reached the finale of his act, a subdued commotion backstage drew his
attention to the wings. Rocco Vecchio- a perspiring, haggard Vecchio-
was standing there, flanked by two men in the uniforms of armored
transport guards. Vecchio was nodding and pointing at the
large suitcase he held. Andy felt his heart thud heavily with
relief. He waved at Fox to cut off the finale introduction. The music
died away discordantly. He drew a deep breath. "Ladies and gentlemen,
in place of my regular closing number tonight, I'd like to sing
something of a different nature for you. Ray, if you please- the
'Cradle Song'". He sensed rather than heard the gasp
that swept across the audience. Nor could he blame them. This particular
song at this particular time could only be interpreted as the ultimate
in bad taste, callous exploitation beyond the bounds of decency.
Having no choice, he plunged into it, anyway, holding onto the microphone
for support. "Lullaby and goodnight **h" His
voice shook. For the first time in his life he forgot the lyrics midway
through and had to cover up by humming the rest. He wondered if the
audience would let him finish. They did; though contemptuous,
they were still polite. But when he was finally through, their scorn
was made apparent. Someone clapped tentatively then quickly stopped.
Otherwise, the silence was complete. As the lights came up, Andy
could see that a number of patrons were already on their way toward
the exit. He stumbled off-stage. "My God", he muttered.
"My God". Hub was there to support him. "It's okay,
Mr& Paxton. The money's here, all of it". At this moment,
all he could think of was what he'd been forced to undergo. "Did
you hear them? Do you know what they think of me"?

"Bunch of damn jerks", Hub growled. "Who needs them"?

Thornburg patted his arm. "Sure, Andy, it'll be all right.

Nothing broken that can't be mended". The words were hollow. Thornburg
knew, better than any of them, that a public image was as fragile
as Humpty Dumpty. All the king's horses and all the king's
men **h Vecchio shouldered in. "I got it, Andy. God knows
how, but I got it. You'll never believe the places I've been
today. I practically had to sign your life away, you'll probably fire
me for some of the deals I had to go for, but"- Andy
nodded dully. "It doesn't matter, Rock. We've done our part".

He clutched that knowledge to him as he returned to his dressing

room. The usual congratulatory crowd was conspicuously absent;
the place had the air of a morgue. Andy had no desire to linger himself
but Hub reported that the mob outside was still large despite the
efforts of the police to disperse them.

His son watched until he got as far as the hall, almost out of
sight, then hurried after. "Dad. Dad, wait". He caught
up with the old man in the living room. Old man Arthur had put down
the suitcase to open the front door. "Just this one favor,
Dad. Just don't tell Ferguson that crazy opinion of yours".

"Why not"? The old man gave the room a stare in leaving; under
the scraggly brows the pale old eyes burned with a bitter memory.
"It's the truth". "The Bartlett girl was killed by
Mr& Dronk's son. Rossi and Ferguson have been across the street,
talking to the kid. They've found some sort of new evidence, a bundle
of clothes or something, and it must link the kid even stronger
to the crime. Why won't you accept facts? The two kids were together
a lot, they were having some kind of teen-age affair- God knows
how far that had gone- and the kid's crippled. He limps, and the
man who hit you and took the cane, <he> limped. My God, how much
more do you want"? His father looked him over closely. "You
sound like an old woman. You should have gone to work today, 'stead
of sneaking around spying on the Dronk house". "Now,
see here"- "The trouble with you", old man Arthur
began, and then checked himself. Young Mrs& Arthur had opened the
oven and there was a drifting odor of hot biscuits. The old man opened
the door and stepped out into the sunlight. "Isn't enough time
to go into it", he finished, and slammed the door in his son's face.
##

Mrs& Holden turned from the window draperies. "They

found something else up there", she said half-aloud to the empty room.
"They took it away, overalls or something". She walked restlessly
across the room, then back to the windows. "Now they've gone,
they didn't come back, and they didn't arrest that Dronk boy".
She stood frowning and chewing her lip. She was wearing a brown cotton
dress, cut across the hips in a way that was supposed to make her
look slimmer, a yoke set into the skirt and flaring pleats below. She
smoothed the skirt, sat down, then stood up and went back to the windows.
"Why on earth did I send him off to work? There was excuse
enough to keep him home **h that young Mr& Arthur's still over
there". With sudden energy, she went to the phone and rang
Holden's office and asked for him. "I think you had better
come home". "Mae, we're so busy. Mr& Crosson's
been on everybody's neck, an order he expected didn't come through
and he's"- "I don't care. I want you here. I'm
all alone and certain things are going on that look very ominous. I
need someone to go out and find out what's happening". "But
I couldn't do that, even if I were home"! His voice grew
high and trembling. "I can't be underfoot every time those cops turn
around! They'll **h they'll think <I> did something".

He couldn't see the grin that split her mouth; the teeth that
shone into the phone were like a shark's. "You'll just have
to risk it. You can't wander along in the dark, can you? I'd
think that you **h even more than I **h would be wondering what they're
up to. They found some clothes", she tossed in. "What"?

Deliberately, she ignored the yelp. "Also, that Mr&

Ferguson was here. I guess he wants to ask you some questions.
I stalled him off. He doesn't expect you until five". "Then
I'd better wait until five". "No **h o **h o. Come
home right away". She slapped the receiver into its holder and stepped
away. Her eyes were bright with anticipation. In his office,
Mr& Holden replaced the phone slowly. He rose from his chair.
He had to cough then; he went to the window and choked there with
the fresh breeze on his face. He got his hat out of the closet. For
a moment he thought of going into Crosson's office to explain that
he had to leave, but there was now such a pain in his chest, such a
pounding in his head, that he decided to let it go. He passed the receptionist
in the outer office, muttering, "I've got to go out for
a little while". Let her call Crosson if she wanted to, let Crosson
raise the roof or even can him, he didn't care. He got into
the car. Putting the key into the switch, pressing the accelerator
with his foot, putting the car into reverse, seemed vast endeavors almost
beyond the ability of his shaking body. Once out in the street,
the traffic was a gadfly maze in which he wandered stricken. When he
turned into the highway that led to the outskirts of the city and then
rose toward home, he had to pull over to the curb and wait for a few
minutes, sucking in air and squinting and blinking his eyes to clear
them of tears. What on earth was in Mae's mind, that she wanted
him up there spying on what the cops were doing? What did she
think he could do? He tried to ignore what his own common sense
told him, but it wasn't possible; her motives were too blatant.
She wanted him to get into trouble. She wanted the police to notice
him, suspect him. She was going to keep on scheming, poking, prodding,
suggesting, and dictating until the cops got up enough interest in
him to go back to their old neighborhood and ask questions. And he knew
in that moment, with a cold sinking of despair, a dying of old hopes,
that Mae had spread some kind of word there among the neighbors.
Nothing bald, open; but enough. They'd have some suspicions to repeat
to the police. Though his inner thoughts cringed at it,
he forced himself to think back, recreating the scene in which Mae claimed
to have caught him molesting the child. It hadn't amounted
to anything. There had been nothing evil or dirty in his intentions.

A second scene flashed before his mind, the interior of

the garage at the new house and the young Bartlett girl turning startled
to meet him, the dim dark and the sudden confusion and fear and then
the brightness as Mae had clicked on the light. Suppose the
cops somehow got hold of <that?> Well, it hadn't been
what it seemed, he'd had no idea the girl was in there. He hadn't
touched her. And when he came to examine the scene, there was
a certain staginess to it, it had the smell of planning, and a swift
suspicion darted into his mind. Too monstrous, of course. Mae
wouldn't have plotted a thing like that. It was just that little
accidents played into her hands. Like this murder. He leaned
on the wheel, clutching it, staring into the sunlight, and tried to bring
order into his thoughts. He felt light-headed and sick. There was
no use wandering off into a territory of utter nightmare. Mae was his
wife. She was married to him for better or for worse. She wouldn't
be wilfully planning his destruction. But she was. She was.

Even as the conviction of truth roared through him, shattering

his last hope of safety, he was reaching to release the hand brake,
to head up the road for home, doing her bidding. He drove, and the
road wobbled, familiar scenes crept past on either side. He came to a
stretch of old orange groves, the trees dead, some of them uprooted,
and then there was an outlying shopping area, and tract houses. He had
the feeling that he should abandon the car and run off somewhere to
hide. But he couldn't imagine where. There was really no place to
go, finally, except home to Mae. At the gate he slowed, looking
around. Cooper was beside his car, on the curb at the right, just
standing there morosely; he didn't even look up. Behind him on the
steps of the little office sat old man Arthur; he was straight,
something angry in his attitude, as if he might be waiting to report
something. Holden stepped on the gas. A new idea drifted in from
nowhere. He could go to the police. He could tell them his fears
of being involved, he could explain what had happened in the old neighborhood
and how Mae had misunderstood and how she had held it over him-
the scene was complete in his mind at the moment, even to his
own jerkings
and snivelings, and Ferguson's silent patience. He could throw
himself on the mercy of the Police Department. It wasn't
what Mae would want him to do, though. He was sure of this. Once
he had abandoned himself to the very worst, once he had quieted all
the dragons of worry and suspense, there wouldn't be very much for
Mae to do. At that moment, Holden almost slammed on the brakes to go
back to Cooper and ask if Ferguson was about. It would be
such a relief. What was that old sign, supposed to be painted
over a door somewhere, <Abandon hope, all ye who enter here?>

Why, Holden said to himself, surprised at his own sudden insight,

I'll bet some of those people who enter are just as happy as can
be. They've worried, they've lain awake nights, they've shook
at the slightest footstep, they've pictured their own destruction, and
now it's all over and they can give up. Sure, they're giving up
hope. Hand in hand with hope went things like terror and apprehension.
<Good-bye>. Holden waved a hand at the empty street. <Glad to
see you go>. He drove into the paved space before the garage
and got out, slamming the car door. He looked up and down the street.
If Ferguson's car had been in sight, Holden would have walked
directly to it. He went to the front door and opened it and looked
in. Mae entered the room from the hallway to the kitchen.
She had a cup of something steaming, coffee perhaps, in one hand, a
fresh piece of toast in the other. She stood there, watching Holden
come in, and she put the piece of toast in her mouth and bit off one corner
with a huge chomp of her white teeth. "Mae"-

"I've been thinking", she said, swallowing the toast. "Didn't

you have an old pair of painting overalls in the garage? You
used them that time you painted the porch at our other house. And then
you wiped up some grease". She had caught him off guard,
no preparation, nothing certain but that ahead lay some kind of disaster.
"No. Wait a minute. What do you"- "I've been
looking for them, and they're gone. I'm sure they were in the garage
up until a couple of days ago. Or even yesterday. You used to paint
in them, and then you just took them for rags. The police have them
now". "I don't remember any overalls at all".

"They were all faded. Worn through at the knees". She stood sipping
and chewing and watching. "Green paint, wasn't it? Well,
I'm not sure of the color. But you had them". "Mae,
sit down. Put down the cup of coffee. Tell me what this is all about".

She shook her head. She took another bite of toast. Holden
noticed almost absently how she chewed, how the whole side of her
cheek moved, a slab of fat that extended down into her neck. "My goodness,
you ought to remember if I do. You're going to have to go
to the police and explain what happened. Tell them the truth **h or
something **h before they come here". A seeping coldness entered
Holden's being; his nerves seemed frost-bitten down to the tips
of his tingling fingers and his spine felt stiff and glass-like, liable
to break like an icicle at any moment. "I've never owned any
painting overalls.
A man with a sketch pad in hand sat with a large pink woman in a small
office at the end of a long, dim corridor and made pencil lines on paper
and said, "Is this more like it, Mrs& MacReady? Or are
the eyebrows more like this"? When he had finished with that, he
would go to another part of the hotel and say much the same things to
someone else, most probably a busboy. "Begin to look like him now,
would you say? Different about the mouth, huh? More like this,
maybe"? Men blew dust on objects in a room on the seventeenth
floor of the Hotel Dumont and blew it off again, and did the same
in a tiny, almost airless room in a tenement in the West Forties.
And men also used vacuum cleaners in both rooms, sucking dust up once
more. Men from the Third Detective District, Eighteenth Precinct,
had the longest, the most tedious, job. At the Hotel Dumont
there had, at the time in issue, been twenty-three overnighters, counting
couples as singular. These included, as one, Mr& and Mrs&
Anthony Payne, who had checked in a little after noon the day before,
and had not checked out together. But Gardner Willings was not
included; he had been at the Dumont for almost a week. There was,
of course, no special reason to believe that the man or woman they sought
had stayed only overnight at the hotel. The twenty-three (or twenty-two
with the Paynes themselves omitted) provided merely a place to
start, and their identification was the barest of starts. With names
and addresses listed, verification came next. It would take time;
it would, almost inevitably, trouble some water. ("I certainly was
not at the Dumont last night and my husband couldn't have been. He's
in Boston. Of <course> he's in"-) The Hotel King
Arthur across the street provided almost twice as many problems.
The King Arthur offered respectable and convenient lodgings to people
from the suburbs who wanted to see a show and didn't want- heaven
knew didn't want!- to lunge anxiously through crowded streets
to railroad stations and, at odd hours of night, drive from smaller stations
to distant homes, probably through rain or, in November, something
worse. The King Arthur was less expensive than the Dumont. The
King Arthur had fifty-four overnighters, again counting rooms rather
than people. Check the overnighters out. Failing to find
what was wanted, as was most likely, check out other guests, with special-
but not exclusive- attention to those with rooms on the street.
(Anyone active enough can reach a roof, wherever his room may be.) And
know, while all this went on, that there was no real reason to suppose
that the murderer had been a guest in either hotel. It was not even
certain the shot had been fired from either hotel. There were other
roofs, less convenient but not impossible. It is dull business, detecting,
and hard on feet. There was also the one salient question
to ask, and ask widely: Did you notice anything out of the way?
Like, for example, a man carrying a twenty-two rifle, probably with
a telescopic sight attached? There was, of course, no hope
it really would be that simple. The sniper, whether psychopathic marksman
or murderer by intent, would hardly have walked to his vantage point
with rifle over shoulder, whistling a marching tune. Anybody carrying
anything that might hide a rifle? Long thin suitcase? Or long
fat suitcase, for that matter? Shrugs met that, from room clerks,
from bellhops. Who measures? But nothing, it appeared, long enough
to attract attention. Cases, say, for musical instruments? None
noted at the Dumont. Several at the King Arthur. A combo was staying
there. And had been for a week. Anything else? Anything at
all? Shrugs met that. (Detective Pearson, Eighteenth Precinct,
thought for a time he might be on to something. A refuse bin at
the Dumont turned up a florist's box- a very long box for very
long-stemmed flowers. Traces of oil on green tissue? The lab to check.
The lab: Sorry. No oil.) Anything at all strange?

Well, a man had tried, at the King Arthur, to register with

an ocelot. At the Dumont, a guest had come in a collapsible wheel chair.
At the King Arthur one guest had had his head heavily bandaged,
and another had a bandaged foot and had walked with crutches. There
had also been a man who must have had St& Vitus or something, because
he kept jerking his head. As reports dribbled in, William
Weigand tossed them into the centrifuge which had become his head.
Mullins came in. There was no sign of Mrs& Lauren Payne at her
house on Nod Road, Ridgefield, Connecticut. The house was modern,
large, on five acres. Must have cost plenty. The State cops would
check from time to time; pass word when there was word to pass. Weigand
tossed this news into the centrifuge. Sort things out, damn it.
Sort out the next move. Try to forget motive for the moment.
Consider opportunity. Only those actually with Payne when he was shot,
or who had left the party within not more than five minutes (make
five arbitrary) positively had none. The Norths; Hathaway, Jerry's
publicity director; Livingston Birdwood, producer of <Uprising>.
They had been with Payne when he was shot, could not therefore
have shot him from above. Take Gardner Willings. He had
left after the scuffle; had been seen to leave. He would have had ample
time to go into a blind somewhere and wait his prey. Consider him
seriously, therefore? Intangibles entered, then- hunches which
felt like facts. Willings would ambush, certainly; Willings undoubtedly
had. Willings was, presumably, a better than average shot. But-
hunch, now- Willings would not ambush anything which went on two
legs instead of four. Because, if for no other reason, Willings would
never for a moment suppose he was not bigger, tougher, than anything
else that went on two legs. Ambushes are laid by those who doubt themselves,
as any man may against a tiger. Faith Constable had
had to "go on" from the party and had, presumably, gone on. To
be checked out further. Forget motive? No, motive is a part of fact.
Nobody in his right mind punishes a quarter-century-old dereliction.
Grudges simply do not keep that well in a sane mind. Faith Constable
had accomplished much in a quarter of a century. Jeopardize it now
to correct so old a wrong? Bill shook his head. Also, he thought,
I doubt if she could hit the side of a barn with a shotgun.
Lauren herself? She had left the party early, pleading a headache.
No lack of opportunity, presuming she had a gun. She might, conceivably,
have brought one in in a large-enough suitcase. (Check on the
Payne luggage.) She might now have taken it away again. Motive- her
husband wandering? Bitter, unreasoning jealousy? Heaven knew
it happened and hell knew it too. But- it happened, almost always,
among the primitive and, usually, among the very young. (Call it mentally
young; call it retarded.) There was nothing to indicate that Lauren
Payne was primitive. She did not move in primitive circles. She
was young, but not that young. It occurred to Bill Weigand
that he was, on a hunch basis, eliminating a good many. He reminded
himself that all eliminations were tentative. He also reminded himself
that he had an unusual number of possibilities. The Masons,
mother or son, or mother <and> son? Opportunity was obvious. Motive.
Here, too, the cause to hate lay well back in the years. But
bitterness had more cause to remain, even increasingly to corrode. With
the boy, particularly. The boy had, apparently- if Mrs& MacReady
was right in what she had told Mullins- only in recent months
been forced to give up college, to work as a busboy. Seeing the man
he blamed for this made much of- youth and bitterness and-

Bill picked up the telephone; got Mullins. "Send out a

pickup on Mrs& Mason and the boy when you've got enough to go on",
Bill said. "Right"? Mullins would do. A
man named Lars Simon, playwright-director, had expressed a wish that
Anthony Payne drop dead. He would say, of course, that he had not
really had any such wish; that what he had said was no more than one
of those things one does say, lightly, meaning nothing. Which probably
would turn out to be true; which he obviously had to be given the
opportunity to say. A man named Blaine Smythe, with "~y"
and "~e" but pronounced without them, had been fired at Payne's
insistence. He was also, if Pam North was right, a closer acquaintance
of Lauren Payne's than she, now, was inclined to admit.
He might deny the latter; would certainly deny any connection between
the two things, or any connection of either with murder. He would
have to be given the opportunity. Mullins? It was evident
that Mullins was the man to go. It was evident that a captain should
remain at his desk, directing with a firm hand and keeping a firm seat.
Bill Weigand was good and tired of the wall opposite, and the crack
in the plaster. Let Mullins keep the firm seat; let Stein. #@#

When Siamese cats are intertwined it is difficult to tell where

one leaves off and another begins. Stilts and Shadow, on Pam's
bed, appeared to be one cat- rather large, as Siamese cats go, and,
to be sure, having two heads and two tails. On the other hand, they,
or it, seemed to have no legs whatever. Pamela North said, "Hi",
to her cats, and added that proper cats met their humans at the door.
Of four dark brown ears, one twitched slightly at this. "All right",
Pam said. "I know it isn't dinnertime". But at
this the one too-large cat suddenly became two cats, stretching. Shadow,
the more talkative, began at once to talk, her voice piteous. Stilts,
a more direct cat, leaped from the bed and trotted briskly toward
the kitchen. Shadow looked surprised, wailed, and trotted after her.
The hell it isn't dinnertime, two waving tails told Pam North.

It was not, whatever tale was told by tails. Martha presumably

would cope. She might be firm. It was most unlikely that she would
be firm. They want to be fat cats, Pam thought, and lighted a cigarette
and leaned back on a chaise and considered pulling her thoughts together.
After a time, it occurred to her that her thoughts were not worth
the trouble. A vague feeling that Anthony Payne had had it coming
was hardly a thought and was, in any event, reprehensible. Had Faith
Constable's explanation of her confidence, so uninvited, been a
little thin? That was more like a thought, but not a great deal more.
Had that tall dark boy, carrying trays too heavy for him, found what
he might have considered adulation of a man he probably hated more
than he could bear? And possessed himself- how?- of a rifle
and killed? Pam found she had no answers; had only a hope. The poor
kid- the poor, frail kid. Some people have luck and some have no
luck and that, whatever people who prefer order say, is the size of
it. The poor, unlucky- The telephone rang. Pam realized, to
her surprise, that she had been almost dozing. At four o'clock in
the afternoon. Two martinis for lunch- that was the trouble. I ought
to remember. Don't pretend. You do remember. You just- "Hello?
Yes, this is she? What"? The voice had music
in it. Even with words coming too fast, they came on the music of the
voice. "I said I would", Pam said. "They won't talk
about who gave the information. Not unless they have to. They don't,
Mrs& Constable. Not unless they have"- She was
interrupted. "Call this a cry for help", Faith Constable
said.
"Through a door conveniently unlocked", Madden supplemented.

"That damn door", said the police chief. "A gift horse
to be viewed with suspicion". Madden's dark face wore a meditative
look. "If there was collusion between an outside murderer and
a member of the household it would be an elementary precaution to check
on the door later. And it makes a very poor red herring for an inside
job. Much better to break a cellar window". "Don't
forget, there was the hope it would pass for a natural death", Pauling
reminded him. "Well, with a house as big as that there
must be at least one cellar window that wouldn't be noticed right away
unless there was a police investigation". "Yeah. And a
pane of glass isn't hard to"- The telephone interrupted
him. He scooped up the receiver and said, "Police chief", into
the mouthpiece, and then, "Oh yes, Mr& Benson. I was hoping I'd
hear from you today". With his free hand he pulled a pad
and pencil toward him and began to make notes as he listened, saying,
"Uh-huh" and "I see" at intervals. At last he said,
"Well, thank you for calling, Mr& Benson. Although there was
no doubt in my mind and we've been handling it as one I'm glad
to have it made official". He hung up. "Coroner", he said
to Madden. "He's just heard from the pathologist who says Mrs&
Meeker apparently died from suffocation". Pauling looked at his
notes. "Many minute hemorrhages in the lungs; particles of lint
and thread in the mouth and nostrils. Scrapings from the bed linen
identical with the lint and thread found in the nasal and oral cavities.
No other cause of death apparent. Trachea clear of mucus and foreign
objects. Brain examined for thrombosis, clot or hemorrhage. No signs
of these, no gross hemorrhage of lungs, heart, brain or stomach".
He paused. "That's about it. Oh, the time of death. The duration
of the digestive process varies, the pathologist says, but the empty
stomach and the findings in the upper gastrointestinal tract indicate
that Mrs& Meeker died several hours after her seven-o'clock
dinner. Probably around midnight, give or take an hour either way".

Pauling paused again. "So there it is", he said. "Not

your problem, of course, unless Johnston and the murderer are one
and the same". They discussed this possibility. However likely
it was, Pauling said, he couldn't limit himself to it. He had
to look for other prospects, other motives until more conclusive evidence
pointing to Johnston came to light. Madden, with his investigation
centered on the fraud, said that tomorrow he would go to the Bronx
bank through which Mrs& Meeker's checks to Johnston had cleared.

Arthur Williams had to be located, they agreed. He might

have been in collusion with Johnston on the fraud; he might be Mrs&
Meeker's murderer or have played some part in her death. This
was Madden's suggestion; the police chief shook his head over it.
If Arthur Williams was involved in the fraud or the murder, then he
too had another identity. No one the Medfield police had questioned
professed to know any more about him than about Johnston. Scholarship
applicant? Pauling looked doubtful. Madden explained that
he was thinking of an application sent directly to Mrs& Meeker.
Then he asked to use the phone and called Brian Thayer, who said that
he was just leaving to keep a lunch date but would be home by two
o'clock. Madden said that he would see him at two and made another
call, this one to Mrs& Meeker's lawyers. Mr& Hohlbein
was out for the day, but Mr& Garth would be free at one-thirty. The
secretary's tone indicated that an appointment at such short notice
was a concession for which Madden should be duly grateful.
He inferred that Hohlbein and Garth were high-priced lawyers.

He had lunch with Pauling. Promptly at one-thirty he entered Hohlbein

and Garth's elegant suite of offices in Medfield's newest
professional building. He disliked Garth on sight, conservative
clothes and haircut, smile a shade too earnestly boyish for a man
who must be well into his thirties, handclasp too consciously quick and
firm. Youngish man on the make, Madden labeled him, and was ready
to guess that in a correct, not too pushing fashion, the junior partner
of the firm had political ambitions; that Mrs& Garth would be
impeccably suitable as the wife of a rising young lawyer; that there
were three children, two boys and a girl; that she was active in the
Woman's Club and he in Lions, Rotary, and Jaycee; and finally,
that neither of them had harbored an unorthodox opinion since their
wedding day. Madden knew that he could be completely wrong about
all this, but also knew that he would go right on disliking Garth.

Garth was prepared to be helpful in what he referred to with

fastidious distaste as this unfortunate Johnston affair, which would
not, he said more than once, have ever come about if Mrs& Meeker
had only seen fit to consult Mr& Hohlbein or him about it.
Madden regretted not being able to find fault with so true a statement.
He asked to see a copy of Mrs& Meeker's will. Garth
brought one out. The date, October 8, 1957, immediately caught
the inspector's eye. "Fairly recent", he remarked. "Was she
in the habit of making new wills"? "Oh no. She had reason
to change the one she made right after Mr& Meeker's death. Her
estate had grown considerably. She wanted to make a more equitable
distribution of it among the groups that would benefit the most; particularly
the scholarship fund. At the time the will was drawn Mr&
Hohlbein mentioned to me how mentally alert she seemed for her age,
knowing just what changes she wanted made and so forth". Garth
hesitated. "Mr& Hohlbein and I have noticed some lapses since,
though. Most of them this past year, I'd say. Even two or three
years ago I doubt that she'd have become involved in this unfortunate
Johnston affair. She'd have consulted us, you see. She always
did before, and showed the utmost confidence in whatever we advised".

The inspector nodded, doubting this. Mrs& Meeker hadn't

struck him as ready to seek anyone's advise, least of all Garth's.
With her sharp tongue she'd have cut his pompousness to ribbons.
It would have been Hohlbein who handled her affairs. Madden
settled back to read the will. He skimmed over the millions
that went to Meeker Park, Medfield Hospital, the civic center,
the Public Health Nursing Association, the library, and so on, pausing
when he came to the scholarship fund. Two millions were added to
what had been set aside for it in Mrs& Meeker's lifetime, and
the proviso made that as long as Brian Thayer continued to discharge
his duties as administrator of the fund to the satisfaction of the board
of trustees (hereinafter appointed by the bank administering the estate)
he was to be retained in his present capacity at a salary commensurate
with the increased responsibilities enlargement of the fund would
entail. A splendid vote of confidence in Thayer, Madden
reflected. Tenure, too. Very nice for him. He went on to personal
bequests, a list of names largely unknown to him. Twenty-five thousand
to each of the great-nieces in Oregon (not much to blood relatives
out of millions) ten thousand to this friend and that, five thousand
to another; to Brian Thayer, the sum of ten thousand dollars;
to the Pecks, ten thousand each; to Joan Sheldon the conditional
bequest of ten thousand to be paid to her in the event that she was
still in Mrs& Meeker's employ at the time of the latter's death.
(No additional five thousand for each year after Joan's twenty-first
birthday; Mrs& Meeker hadn't got around to taking care
of that.) Too bad, Madden thought. Joan Sheldon had earned
the larger bequest. Mr& Hohlbein was left twenty thousand,
Garth ten. There were no other names Madden recognized. Arthur Williams's
might well have been included, he felt. Mrs& Meeker had
spent a small fortune on a search for him but had made no provision for
him in her will if he should be found after her death, and had never
mentioned his name to her lawyers. Madden took up this point
with Garth, who shrugged it off. "Old people have their idiosyncrasies".

"This one came a bit high at thirty thousand or more".

"Well, she had a number of them where money was concerned",

Garth said. "Sometimes we'd have trouble persuading her to
make tax-exempt charitable contributions, and I've known her to quarrel
with a plumber over a bill for fixing a faucet; the next moment
she'd put another half million into the scholarship fund or thirty
thousand into something as impractical as this unfortunate Johnston
affair. There was no telling how she'd react to spending money".

Madden inquired next about the audit of the scholarship fund.

There was an annual audit, Garth informed him. No discrepancies

or shortages had ever been found. Brian Thayer was a thoroughly
honest and competent administrator. His salary had reached the ten thousand
mark. His expenses ran another four or five thousand. The lawyer
didn't know him very well although he saw him occasionally at some
dinner party- Thayer, like himself, Madden reflected, was the extra
man so prized by hostesses- and found him easy enough to talk to.
But he didn't play golf, didn't seem to belong to any local clubs-
his work took him away a lot, of course- which probably accounted
for his tendency to keep to himself. Garth's glance began
to flicker to his watch. He said that he had already told the
police chief that he didn't know what insurance man had recommended
Johnston to Mrs& Meeker. He would offer no theory to account
for her murder. The whole thing, his manner conveyed, was so far outside
the normal routine of Hohlbein and Garth that it practically demanded
being swept under the rug. No doubt Mrs& Meeker had
snubbed him many a time and he felt no grief over her passing. Even so,
Madden's dislike of the suave, correct lawyer deepened. It would
be all right with him, he decided, if his investigation of the fraud,
with its probable by-product of murder, led to Garth's door. Motive?
Ten-thousand-dollar bequest. At first glance, not much of a motive
for a man of his standing; but for all his air of affluence, who
could tell what his private financial picture was? The inspector
knew as he left that this was wishful thinking. Nevertheless,
he made a mental note to look into Garth's financial background.

Brian Thayer had a downtown address. He lived in an apartment

house not over three or four years old, a reclaimed island of landscaped
brick and glass on the fringe of the business district. He
occupied a two-bedroom apartment on the fourth floor, using the second
bedroom as his office. Airy and bright, the apartment was furnished
with good modern furniture, rugs, and draperies. Done by a professional
decorator, Madden thought, and somehow as impersonal, as unremarkable
as its occupant. In Dunston the rent would run close to two hundred
a month; in Medfield, perhaps twenty-five less, not all of it
paid by Thayer, who could charge off one room on his expense account.

He took Madden into the room he used as an office. It contained

a desk, files, a typewriter on a stand, and two big leather armchairs.
A newspaper open at stock-market reports lay on one of them. Thayer
folded it up and offered a drink. The inspector declined.
To begin the interview, he asked if Thayer, with more time to think
it over, could add to what he had said the other day about Johnston.

Thayer shook his head. "It's all I think about, too.

That and her death. It's still unbelievable that it was murder. For
all her domineering ways, I can't conceive of her having had a deadly
enemy".

"Dammit, Phil, are you trying to wreck my career? Because

that's what you're doing- wrecking it, wrecking it, wrecking it"!
Griffith had confronted Hoag on the building's front steps-
Hoag had been permitted no further- and backed him against a wrought-iron
railing. His rage had built up as he made his way here from
the second floor, helped by the quantity of champagne he had consumed.

Hoag said, "I didn't send for you, Leigh. I want the
captain in charge. Where is he"? "Phil, for God's sake,
go away. The undersecretary's in there. I told you there's
nothing between Midge and me, nothing. It's all in your mind". A
couple of sobs escaped him, followed by a sentiment that revealed his
emotional state. "Why, I'm not fit to touch the hem of her garment".
"Leigh, get a grip on yourself. It's not about you
or Midge. I have some security information about the prime minister".

Griffith looked at him suspiciously through red-rimmed

eyes. "Not about me? You mean it, Phil? You wouldn't pull
my leg, old man? I <did> get you on the platform this morning".

"I'm not pulling your leg. Will you call that captain"?

"No use, he won't come". He peered closely at Hoag

in the gathering darkness. "What happened to your head"?

"I was hit- knocked out. Now will you get him"? "He
says I'm to take the message". He stared at Hoag drunkenly.
"Who'd hit you in the head"? "It doesn't matter.
You get back to the captain and tell him this: Somebody's going
to take a shot at the prime minister, and Mahzeer is in on the plot.
Tell him under no circumstances to trust the prime minister with Mahzeer".

Griffith said, "That's impossible. Mahzeer's

the ambassador". "Nevertheless it's true". "Impossible".
Griffith was trying to clear his head of the champagne
fuzz that encased it. "I'll show you how wrong you are. Mahzeer
and the prime minister are alone right now". He nodded triumphantly.
"So that proves it"! Hoag looked terrified. "Where
are they"? "Where'd you expect, the john? Mahzeer's
office". "Where is that"? "Facing us,
two flights up. Look, old man, you can't go up. They won't even
let you in the front door. So why don't you be a good boy and"-

Hoag grabbed him by the shoulders. "Listen to me, Leigh.

If you want to spend another day in the State Department- <another
day>- you get in there and tell that captain what I told you".
He bit out the words. "And you know I can do it". Griffith
raised placating hands. "Easy does it, Phil. I was just going.
I'm on my way". He turned and fled into the house and made
his way up the marble stairs without once looking back. On the second
landing he paused to look for Docherty, didn't see him, and accepted
a glass of champagne. He took several large swallows, recollected
that Docherty had gone up another flight, and decided he would be wise
to cover himself by finding him. The way Hoag was, no telling what
he might say or do. He finished his champagne and climbed uncertainly
to the next landing. At the top a uniformed officer blocked further
progress. "Yes, what is it"? he asked. "I want Captain
Docherty". He spotted Docherty coming out of a room at the far
end of the corridor and called to him. Docherty said, "It's
okay, Bonfiglio, let him by". They walked toward each other.
"Well"? Griffith said, "Hoag told me to tell you"-
he waited until they were close; it was hideously embarrassing-
"not to let the prime minister be alone with Mahzeer". Griffith
looked half-crocked to the captain; it would be just like him.
"Why not"? "He claims Mahzeer's in a plot to kill
the P&M&". Docherty went taut: was it possible?
Could the ambassador himself be the man on this side the prime minister
feared? Not possible, he thought; the prime minister knew who
his enemy was here; he wasn't going to allow himself to be led meekly
to the slaughter. And if by some wild chance Mahzeer was the man,
he wouldn't dare try anything now- not after Docherty had looked
in on the two of them to see that all was well. Docherty was damned
if he would make a fool of himself again the way he had earlier over
the laundry truck. One more muddleheaded play like that one and they'd
be leading him away. Still, this had to be checked out. "Where'd
your friend Hoag get his information"? he asked.

"Haven't the faintest, Captain". "Would you mind

sending him up here? I'd like to talk to him". Troubled, he continued
along the corridor, poking his head into the next office for
a careful look around.

#3#

But Hoag had not stayed on the front

steps when Griffith disappeared into the building. He was unwilling
to rely on Griffith's carrying his message, and he had no confidence
the police would act on it. If Mahzeer was alone with the prime minister
he could be arranging his execution while Hoag stood out here
shivering in the darkening street. He would have to do something on his
own. But what? The door opened and three men and a woman
in a sari swept past him and down the stairs. In the lighted interior
he saw other men and women struggling into their wraps. These were
the early departures; in half an hour the reception would be over. If
Mahzeer was planning to set up the prime minister for Muller he would
have to do it in the next few minutes. Hoag descended the stone
steps to the street and looked up at the building. Wide windows with
many small leaded panes swept across the upper stories. On the second
floor he saw the animated faces of the party guests; the scene looked
like a Christmas card. On the third floor one of the two windows
was lighted; it was framed in maroon drapes, and no faces were visible.
This would be Mahzeer's office. He and the prime minister would
be back from the window, seated at Mahzeer's desk; they would
be going over papers Mahzeer had saved as excuse for just such a meeting.
In a minute, or five minutes, the business would be done; Mahzeer
would stand up, the prime minister would follow. Mahzeer would direct
the prime minister's attention to something out the window and
would guide him forward and then step to one side. The single shot would
come; Hoag would carry its sound to his grave. Mahzeer, of course,
would be desolate. How was he to suspect that an assassin had been
lurking somewhere across the street waiting for just such a chance?

Hoag turned. Where across the street? Where was Muller

waiting with the rifle? Narrow four-story buildings ran the length
of the block like books tightly packed on a shelf. Most of them could
be eliminated; Muller's would have to be one of the half dozen
almost directly opposite. The legation was generously set back from
the building line; if the angle of fire were too great the jutting buildings
on either side would interfere. Would the shot come from a roof?
He ran his eye along the roof copings; almost at once a figure
bulked up. But dully glinting on the dark form were the buttons and
badge of a policeman. With a cop patrolling the road Muller would
have to be inside a building- if he was here at all, and not waiting
for the prime minister somewhere between this street and the terminal
building at La Guardia Airport. Hoag crossed the narrow street,
squeezing between parked cars to reach the sidewalk. From this
side he could see farther into the legation's third-story window, but
he saw no faces; the room's occupants were still seated or they
had been called into the hallway by an alarmed police captain. If only
the latter were true **h. He walked rapidly along the buildings scanning
their facades: one was a club- that was out; two others he
ruled out because all their windows were lighted. That left three, possibly
four, one looking much like the next. He climbed the steps of
the first and opened the door to the vestibule. He quickly closed it
again. He had assumed that all these buildings had been divided into
apartments, but this one, from a glance at the hall furnishings, was
obviously still a functioning town house, and its owners were in residence;
that made it doubtful as the hiding place of a man whose plans
had to be made in advance. He went on to the next building and
found what he expected- the mingled cooking aromas of a public vestibule.
On one wall was the brass front of a row of mailboxes; there
were six apartments. Now what? The names on the mailboxes meant
nothing to him. This was senseless- he had no idea what to look for.
He peered in the boxes themselves; all were empty except one, and
that one was jammed with letters and magazines. The occupants of Apartment
Number 3 were probably away for a few days, and not likely to
return on a Friday. Had Muller made the same deduction? Muller
was attracted to the lore of mailboxes. He opened the inner door;
the cooking
odors were stronger- all over the city, at this hour, housewives
would be fussing over stoves. He climbed, as quickly as he could urge
his body, up the two unbroken flights to the third floor, pulling
himself along on a delicate balustrade, all that remained of the building's
beauty. He paused on the landing to steady his breathing and
then bent to examine the single door by the light of the weak bulb
overhead. Now he was certain: the lock had not yielded to Muller's
collection of keys; fresh scars showed that the door had been
prized open. It had been shut again, but the lock was broken; he noted
with a thrill of fear that the door moved under his touch.
What was he to do now? He had thought no further than finding Muller.
He realized now he had more than half hoped he wouldn't find
him- that Muller would not be here, that the attempt would be scheduled
for somewhere beyond Hoag's control. He could not break in on
an armed man. He would have to climb back down to the street and signal
a cop. Was there time? His thoughts were scattered by
the sharp report of a rifle from the other side of the door. Hoag pushed
open the door: at the far end of the long dark room Muller was
faintly silhouetted against the window, the rifle still raised; he stood
with his feet apart on a kitchen table he had dragged to the sill.
He turned his head to the source of the disturbance and instantly back
to the window and his rifle sight, dismissing Hoag for the moment
with the same contempt he had shown in their encounter at Hoag's apartment.

Hoag stretched his left hand to the wall and fumbled

for the switch: evil flourishes in the dark. The room was bathed in
light at the instant Muller's second shot came. Muller, nakedly
exposed at the bright window like a deer pinned in a car's headlights,
threw down the rifle and turned to jump from the table; his face
wore a look of outrage. A shot caught him and straightened him up in
screaming pain; a following volley of shots shattered glass, ripped
the
ceiling, and sent him lurching heavily from the table. He was dead
before his body made contact with the floor. Hoag stumbled back into
the hall, leaned against the wall, and started to retch.

#4#

After
Captain Docherty sent Arleigh Griffith for Hoag he was able to
complete his detailed inspection of the third floor and to receive a
report from his man covering the floors above before Griffith returned,
buoyed up by a brief stop for another glass of champagne.

The safe at Ingleside District Station stands next to the gum

machine in a narrow passageway that leads to Captain Harris's office
(to the left), the lieutenant's office (farther along and to the
left) and the janitor's supply closet (straight ahead). The
safe is a repository for three dead flashlight batteries, a hundred
and fifty unused left-hand fingerprint cards, a stack of unsold Policemen's
Ball tickets from last year, and thirty-seven cents in coins
and stamps. Gun set the captain's fifth of Hiram Walker inside
the safe before he reported to Lt& Killpath, though he knew that
Killpath's ulcer prevented him from making any untoward incursion on
Herman Wolff's gift. It was more a matter of tact, and also it
was none of Killpath's goddam business. He walked up to the
lieutenant's office, leaned wearily against the gun rack that housed
four rifles and a gas gun nobody remembered having used and a submachine
gun that was occasionally tried out on the Academy Range. He stared
at the clerk who sat at a scarred and ancient fumed-oak desk stuffing
envelopes. "Where's the Lieut"? The clerk
wagged his head toward the captain's office. Gun went to the connecting
door, which was open, and stood at attention while Orville Torrence
Killpath, in full uniform, finished combing his hair.
The lieutenant's sparse brown hair was heavily pomaded, and as Killpath
raked the comb through it, it stuck together in thatches so that
it looked like umbrella ribs clinging to his pink skull. The lieutenant
eyed Gun's reflection in the mirror over the washbowl and then
glanced back at his own face, moving the comb methodically around his
head. Leave me alone, Gun thought. Fight with Sam Schaeffer,
fight with the whole damned Bureau. But leave me alone. Because
I'm looking for the son of a bitch that killed that old man, and I'm
going to get him. If you just leave me to hell alone, Lieutenant.

Killpath peered through half-closed lids at his reflection,

thrust up his chin in a gesture of satisfaction and about-faced.

Gun waited for Killpath to sit down behind the desk near the window.
He sat stiff-backed in a chair that did not swivel, though it was
obvious to Gun that Killpath felt his position as acting captain plainly
merited a swivel chair. The desk before him was in no better repair
than the rest of the furniture crowded into the room, including wooden
file cabinets with some of their pulls yanked off and a wardrobe
stained with the roof seepage of countless seasons. Killpath
pulled one thin leg up, clamping his arms around the shinbone to press
his knee into an incredibly scrawny gut. It was the posture which the
men had come to recognize as that of Killpath defying his ulcer. He
put his chin on his kneecap, stretching his neck like that of a turkey
on a chopping block, and stared wordlessly at his sergeant.
Gun waited. The 7:45 bell rang and he could hear the outside
doors bang shut, closing in the assembled day watch. Finally,
Orville intoned through his hawk nose, "We can't have people running
in any time they please, Sergeant". "No, sir". "Running
in, running out. Can't have it. Makes for confusion and
congestion". He rocked back in the chair, knee locked against stomach,
his beady eyes fixed on Matson. He was silent again, possibly
listening to the sounds in the squadroom. Roll was being called.
Gun cleared his throat. Killpath said, "You were expected
to report to
my office twenty minutes ago, Sergeant. That's not getting
all the juice out of the orange, now is it"? "No, sir".

Then Killpath smiled. Gun knew that nothing but aces back
to back would give the lieutenant an ulcer and a smile at the same time.

The day-watch platoon commander, Lt& Rinker, was calling

out the beat assignments, but Matson couldn't make the names mean
anything. "I called the station at three this morning",
Killpath's nasal voice pronounced. "Do you have any idea who might
have been in charge at the time"? "Sergeant Vaughn,
sir". "Now, now, you're just guessing, Sergeant". He
smiled thinly, savoring his joke. "What if I said nobody was here
but a couple of patrolmen"? "Sir, Vaughn knows better
than to leave the station without a relief. He must have"-

"He let a patrolman take over the duties of the station keeper. Now
that's not regulation, is it"? "No, sir".
"But you didn't know a thing about it, did you"? Killpath leaned
forward; his foot slipped off the chair and he put it back again,
frowning now. "That's not taking one's command with a responsible
attitude, Matson". Gun told himself that the old bastard
was a fool. But stupidity was no consolation when it had rank.

"I was out in the district, sir". "Oh, yes. So

I have heard". He stretched
on his desk. "I might point
my office this morning when
**h limited my knowledge of
He took up a white sheet of
a pale hand out to the scattered papers
out that your inability to report to
you were instructed to do so has not **h ah
your activities as you may have hoped".
paper, dark with single-spaced data.

A car pulled into the driveway outside the window. Gun knew it
was Car 12, the wagon, returned from delivering Ingleside's
drunk-and-disorderlies
to the City Jail. But for some fool reason he couldn't
remember which men he'd put on the transfer detail. He stared
at the report in Killpath's hand, sure it was written by Accacia-
just as sure as if he'd submitted it in his scrawled longhand. He
sucked in his breath and kept quiet while Killpath laid down the sheet
again, wound the gold-wire stems of his glasses around his ears and
then, eying the report as it lay before him on the desk, intoned, "Acting
Lieutenant Gunnar Matson one failed to see that the station
keeper was properly relieved two absented himself throughout the entire
watch without checking on the station's activities or the whereabouts
of his section sergeants three permitted members of the Homicide
Detail of the Inspector's Bureau to arrogate for their own convenience
a patrolman who was thereby prevented from carrying on his proper
assignment four failed to notify the station commander Acting Captain
O& T& Killpath of a homicide occurring in the district five
frequented extralegal establishments known as after-hours spots for
purposes of an unofficial and purportedly social nature and six"-
he leaned back and peeled off his glasses "- failed to co-operate
with the Acting Captain by returning promptly when so ordered. What
have you to say to that, Sergeant"? Killpath sailed the paper
across the desk, but Matson didn't pick it up or even glance at it.

"Well"? "I didn't think Accacia knew so

many big words, Lieutenant". Killpath licked his lips. "Patrolman
Accacia is an alert and conscientious law-enforcement officer.
I don't think his diligence mitigates your negligence, Matson".

"Negligence, hell"! Gun held his breath a moment,

pushing
the volume and pitch of his voice down under the trapdoor in his
throat. "Sir. I would have been negligent and a goddam lousy cop to
boot, if I'd sat around this station all night when somebody got
away with murder in my district. It's too bad I didn't call you,
and it's too bad I let Schaeffer use Accacia when he could have
had a boy who'd be glad to learn something of Homicide procedure.
But I'm not one damned bit sorry I went out to question the people
I know in the places they hang around, and"- "Let's
not push our patience beyond the danger line, Sergeant", Killpath
nasaled. "I shouldn't like to have to write you up for insubordination
as well as dereliction of duty". Gun stiffened, his hands
balling into fists at his sides. He clamped his jaws to keep the
fury from spilling out. An argument with Orville Torrence Killpath
was as frustrating and as futile as a cap pistol on a firing range.

Killpath leaned forward again, rocked comfortably with his arms

still wrapped around one knee. "Let's just remember, Sergeant,
that we must all carry our own umbrella. A district station can't
run smoothly, unless"- He interrupted himself, looking around Gun
at the doorway. "Morning, Lieutenant Rinker". "Sorry,
Orville. I thought you hadn't come in yet". "I've
been here for some time". He stood up, cocked his head and eyed Gun
coldly. "The sergeant is just leaving". ##

It had come as
no great surprise to Matson that the hot water in the showers didn't
work, that Loren Severe had thrown up all over the stairs, or that
some thieving bastard of a cop had walked off with his cigarettes. It
was the best he could hope for on a watch that had ended with a session
in Killpath's office. Now, as he passed the open counter
that divided the assembly room from the business office, he nodded
and said good night to the station keeper and his clerks, not stopping
to hear the day-watch playback of his chewing out. Not that he
gave a damn what the grapevine sent out about Killpath's little speech
on the comportment of platoon commanders. He just didn't want
to talk about it. If the acting captain wanted his acting lieutenant
to sit on his ass around the station all night, Killpath would just
have to go out and drag Gun back by the heels once an hour; because
he'd be damned if he was going to be a mid-watch pencil-pusher just
to please his ulcerated pro-tem captain. At the doorway he squinted
up at the gray morning overcast and patted his jacket pockets for
the cigarettes, remembering then that he'd left them at the Doughnuttery.
He could pick up another pack on his way home, if he were going
home. But even before he started across the oiled road to his Plymouth,
parked in the lot under the cypress trees across from the station,
he knew that he wasn't going home. Not yet. It
was nine o'clock in the morning: the hour which, like a spade turning
clods of earth, exposed to the day a myriad of busy creatures that
had lain dormant in the quiet night. Mission Street at this hour was
populated by a whole community that Gun could not have seen on his
tour of duty- the neighborhood that had known Urbano Quintana by
day.

#TEN#
Sol Phillips had purchased the Alliance Furniture
Mart seventeen years ago. It was professedly worth three thousand dollars
in stock and good will, and the name was written in gold in foot-high
letters across each of the two display windows. On the right
window, at eye level, in smaller print but also in gold, was <Gonzalez,
Prop&,> and under that, <Se Habla Espanol>. Mr& Phillips
took a razor to <Gonzalez, Prop&,> but left the promise
that Spanish would be understood because he thought it meant that Spanish
clientele would be welcome. Language was no problem anyway;
Mr& Phillips had only to signal from his doorway to summon aid from
the ubiquitous bilingual children who played on the sidewalks of Mission
Street. Aside from the fact that business was slow this
time
of year and his one salesgirl was not the most enterprising, Mr&
Phillips had no worries at all, and he said as much to Gun Matson,
who sat across from him in civilian clothes, on a Jiffy-Couch-a-Bed,
mauve velour, $79.89 nothing-down special! "She's honest
as the day", Mr& Phillips said, and added, "Mr& Gunnar,
I can say this to you: Beebe is a little too honest. You can't
tell a customer how much it's going to cost him to refinance his payments
before he even signs for a loan on the money down! A time plan
is a mere convenience, you understand, and when"- He interrupted
himself, smiling. "I put her in lamps. That way I don't lose
so much". "Why don't you just hire somebody else"?

"She says she has to finish a story". He shrugged. "I

asked her why she couldn't do it tomorrow, but it seems the muse is
working good tonight and she's afraid to let it go". Casey
made some comment, but his mind was busy as he considered the man. His
name was George Needham and he, too, had come from a good family.
He was perhaps thirty-two, nicely set up, with light brown hair that
had a pronounced wave. He was always well groomed and well tailored,
and he had that rich man's look which was authentic enough and came
from two good prep schools and a proper university. An only child, he
had done all the things that young men do who have been born to money
and social position until his father double-crossed him by dying broke.
Since then he had worked at this and that, though some said his main
interest was gambling. All this went through Casey's mind
in the first instant, but what held his interest was the fact that
these two should be together at all. For he had understood that Betty
had been engaged to a boy named Barry Jenkins. She had grown up with
young Jenkins, and he had heard that they had been at the point of
getting married at least twice. He wanted to ask her about Jenkins
now, but he knew he couldn't do so in Needham's presence. And so,
still wondering and a little perplexed, he grinned at the girl and
spoke lightly to make sure that she would know he was kidding.
"Where did you pick him up"? "Oh, I've known him quite
a while". She glanced at her companion fondly. "Haven't I,
George"? "I've been after her for years", Needham
said, "but I've never been able to get anywhere until the last
few days". The girl's eyes were softly shining as she reached
out and touched Casey's hand. "Can I tell you a secret?
We're going to get married. Do you approve"? Casey kept
his smile fixed, but some small inner disturbance was working on him
as
he thought again about Needham, who was eight or ten years older than
the girl. He wondered whether Needham was going to swear off gambling
and get a steady job or whether he was counting on the income from
Betty's estate to subsidize him. None of this showed in his face,
and he tried to keep his skepticism in hand. He made a point of frowning,
of acting out the part of the fond father-confessor. "I'll
have to give it some thought", he said. "You wouldn't want
me to say yes without making sure his intentions are honorable, would
you"? She made a face at him and then she laughed. "Of
course not". "I'll get my references in order", Needham
said, and though he spoke with a smile, Casey somehow got the idea
that he was not particularly amused. "Stop by any time, Casey".
He stood up and touched the girl's arm. "Come on, darling. If
you're really serious about working on that story, I'd better take
you home". Casey watched them go, still frowning absently
and then dismissing the matter as he called for his check. As he went
out he told Freddie the dinner was perfect, and when he got his hat
and coat from Nancy Parks and put a fifty-piece piece in the slot,
he told her to be sure that it went toward her dowry. A taxi
took him back to the bar and grill where he had left his car, and a few
minutes later he found a parking place across the street from his apartment.
Because his mind had been otherwise occupied for the past couple
of hours, he did not think to look and see if Jerry Burton's
car was still there. In fact, he did not think about Jerry Burton at
all until he entered his living room and closed the door behind him.
Only then, when his glance focused on the divan and saw that it was
empty, did he remember his earlier problem. Even from where he
stood he could see the neatly folded blanket that he had spread over
Burton, the pillow, the sheet of paper on top of it. Then he was striding
across the room, his thoughts confused but the worry building swiftly
inside him as he snatched up the note. ##

<Jack:
Look in
the wastebasket. I knew the only way I could beat you was to play possum,
but it was a good try, kid, and I appreciate it. J>&
##

The wastebasket stood near the wall next to the divan, and the instant
Casey picked it up he knew what had happened. The discarded papers
inside were sodden, there was a glint of liquid at the bottom, and
the smell of whisky was strong and distinct. He put the basket down
distastefully, muttering softly and thoroughly disgusted with himself
and his plan that had seemed so foolproof. For he remembered too well
how he had brought back the loaded drinks to Burton and then returned
to the kitchen to get weaker drinks for himself. For another
second or two he gave in to the annoyance that was directed at himself;
then his mind moved on to be confronted by something far more
serious, and as the thought expanded, the implications jarred him. It
no longer mattered that Burton had outsmarted him. The important thing
was that Burton had gone somewhere to meet a blackmailer with a gun
in his pocket. And that gun was empty. Even before his mind
had rounded out the idea, he thrust one hand into his trousers pocket
and pulled out the six slugs he had taken from the revolver. He considered
them with brooding eyes, brows bunched as his brain grappled with
the problem and tried to find some solution. He said: "The crazy
fool", half aloud. He put the shells on the table, as though he
could no longer bear to hold them. He thought: <Where the hell
could he have gone? How can I find him?> There was no answer
to this and he began to pace back and forth across the room, his
imagination out of control. He tried to tell himself that maybe Burton
had sobered up enough to get some sense. Maybe he only intended to
scare the blackmailer, whoever he was, in which case an unloaded gun
would be good enough. He thought of other possibilities, none of them
satisfactory, and finally he began to think, to wonder if there was
some way he could reach Burton. Then, as he turned toward the telephone,
it rang shrilly to shatter the stillness in the room and he reached
for it eagerly. "Yeah", he said. "Casey"?

"Yeah". "Tony Calenda". Casey heard

the voice distinctly and he knew who it was, but it took him a while to
make the mental readjustment and control the disturbance inside his
head. When he heard Calenda say: "What about that picture you took
this afternoon"? it still took him another few seconds to remember
the job he had done for Frank Ackerly. "What picture"?
he demanded. "You took a picture of me at the corner of
Washington and Blake about three thirty this afternoon".
"Who says so"? "One of my boys". Casey believed
that much. Calenda was not the sort who walked around without one
of his "boys" close at hand. "So"? "With
my trial coming up in Federal Court next week I wouldn't want that
picture published". "Who says it's going to be published"?

"I wouldn't even want it to get around".

Under normal circumstances Casey was a little fussy when people told
him what to do with pictures he had taken. Even so, he generally listened
and was usually reasonable to those who voiced their objections
properly. Right now, however, he was still too worried about Jerry
Burton, and the gun that had no bullets, and the story Burton had told
him, to care too much about Tony Calenda. His nerves were getting
a little ragged and his impatience put an edge in his voice.
"Look", he said. "I was hired to take a picture. I took it.
That's all I know about it and that's all I care". "Maybe
you'd better tell the guy who hired you what I said".

"You tell him". "All right", Calenda said, his voice

still quiet. "But I meant what I said, Casey. If that picture
gets around and I find out you had anything to do with it, I'm
going to send a couple of my boys around to see you". "You
do that", Casey said. "Just be sure to send your two best boys,
Tony". He hung up with a bang, annoyed at himself for running
off at the mouth like that but still terribly concerned with the situation
he had helped to create. As soon as he could think logically
again he reached for the telephone directory and found Jerry Burton's
home number. He dialed it and listened to it ring ten times before
he hung up. He called the bar and grill where he had picked Burton
up that afternoon. When he was told that no one had seen Burton since
then, he thought of three other places that were possibilities. Each
time he got the same answer and in the end he gave up. By
the time he had smoked three cigarettes he had calmed down. He had done
all he could and that was that. And anyway Burton was not the kind
of guy who would be likely to get in trouble even when he was drunk.
He, Casey, had been scared for a while, but that had come mostly from
the fact that he felt responsible. He should have stayed here and
watched Burton. He didn't. So he made a mistake. So what?

He kept telling himself this as he went out to the kitchen to make

a drink. Only then did he decide he didn't want one. He considered
opening a can of beer but vetoed that idea too. Finally he went into
the bedroom and sat down to take off his shoes. He had just finished
unlacing the right one when the telephone rang again. When he snatched
it up the voice that came to him was quick and urgent. "Casey?
You don't know me but I know you. If you want a picture
get to the corner of Adams and Clark just as fast as you can. If you
hurry you might beat the headquarters boys". Casey heard the
click of the distant receiver before he could open his mouth, and it
took him no more than three seconds to make his decision. For over
the years he had received many such calls. Some of them came from people
who identified themselves. Some telephoned because he had done
them a favor in the past. Others because they expected some sort of
reward for the information. A few passed along a tip for the simple
reason that they liked him and wanted to give him a break. Only
an occasional tip turned out to be a phony, and, like the police, Casey
had made a point of running down all such suggestions and he did not
hesitate this time. He was in his car with his camera and equipment
bag in less than two minutes, and it took him only three more
to reach the corner, a block from Columbus Avenue. It was a district
of small factories and loft buildings and occasional tenements, and
he could see the police radio car as he rounded the corner and slammed
on the brakes. He did not bother with his radio- there would be time
for that later- but as he scrambled out on the pavement he saw the
filling station and the public telephone booth and knew instantly how
he had been summoned. The police car had pulled up behind a
small sedan, its headlights still on.

slowly he pulled out the hand throttle until the boat was moving
at
little more than a crawl, and watched Elaine rapidly spin from one
station to another, tune in the null, then draw in a line on the chart.
"We're out just a little too far. Make a 90 degree straight
for shore". Poet came in, raising his eyebrows appreciatively
as he saw Elaine. "Now"? he asked. "Pretty quick",
she replied. "Will you drop the anchor"? Poet nodded,
swung below and a moment later emerged from the forward hatch where
he picked up the anchor. The rock and roll music coming from the radio
station suddenly faded as the boat coasted into the null on the ~RDF.

"Reverse", Elaine said, then peered through the loop

of the ~RDF and waved to Poet. A second later she came behind
the wheel and backed off the anchor line until it was set in the ocean
floor. She cut the engines and slowly the cruiser swung around on
the end of its lines until its bow was pointing into the wind and the
cockpit faced toward the shore. Nick watched her somewhat enviously as
she efficiently cut the engines, and started the auxiliary motor.

Poet came up from below, wearing new bathing trunks. The price
tag hung from the belt and he pulled it off as he entered the chartroom
and looked at it curiously. Nick wondered if Elaine had bought them,
but he said nothing. Nobody, he suddenly realized, was saying anything.
It seemed as if they were all under a spell. There should be an
excited conversation, for somewhere, directly below them, was a treasure
lost for more than four hundred years. But instead of chatter
there was a null, like on the radio direction finder. Once, in New
York, he had gone flying with some friends in a small private airplane
with a single engine. They had all been laughing, joking, when
suddenly the engine had failed. No one had screamed. No one had prayed.
All had fallen into a complete silence, listening to the wind whistle
over the wings. The pilot had been good. He'd landed the plane
on a small airstrip in Connecticut and as soon as the aircraft had
coasted to a stop, everyone had burst into chatter at the same moment.
There had been tension in the plane during the silent descent;
a tension similar to the one now. But in the plane there was a concrete
reason for it. Now, at this moment, there should be none **h unless
skin diving was much more dangerous than he had been led to believe.
Yet tension existed. The same taut-nerved relationship as there
had been between the passengers on the plane now strained at the three
of them here on the boat. It hung over them like a cloud, its arrival
as sudden as a cloud skidding over the sun. Silently, Elaine
picked up her keys from the table and went out into the cockpit, Poet
behind her, Nick trailing behind him. She threw back a cushion over
one of the seats, unlocked a padlock on the chest beneath it, then
presently straightened, holding a long knife and a wicked looking spear
gun in her hand. Poet whistled softly as he looked at the gun.
"Hydraulic"? he asked. Elaine nodded. "They are the
best". She kicked the locker lid shut and replaced the cushion.
"They are the most efficient". "And the deadliest", Poet
commented as he buckled on his tank harness. "Why do you
need an arsenal"? Nick asked, apprehensively, staring at the weapon.

"It's quite possible there's more than codfish down

there, man", Poet replied with a short, nervous laugh as he held
the harness for Elaine. A moment later, moving awkwardly because
of the swimming fins, she picked up the gun, handed the knife to Poet,
then rolled off the transom of the boat, back first. Poet nodded
to Nick and entered the water in a similar fashion. Another moment
and they were out of sight, leaving behind only a string of bubbles as
a clue to their whereabouts. For a while Nick followed the
twisting course of the bubbles, wondering which set came from Elaine.
They remained close together, their air trail wiggling like serpents
traveling side by side. Eventually the bubbles became lost in the sparkle
of the ocean surface, and he rolled over on his back. Clasping
his hands behind his head, he stared at the blue sky. There was
nothing quite like being alone on a boat on the ocean. Alfredo certainly
must have enjoyed being alone. Next to the ocean, probably the
loneliest spot was the desert. If Elaine's uncle had stuck to this
desire for aloneness, he probably would still be alive. Yet Alfredo
wanted money **h wanted money to roam through the deserts. And
Graham wanted money probably to roam among the dice tables in Las
Vegas. It was an odd combination **h a strange pair to stumble upon
the wreck of the <Trinidad>. But Graham hadn't stumbled on it.
Two to three weeks prior to the charter of the <Virginia>, Graham
had been snooping around the San Luis Rey Mission. The small
helicopter with its two steel skids churned offshore and Nick raised
up to watch it heading south. That was a hell of a note, he thought.
A couple couldn't even find a secluded spot anywhere on a beach
to neck nowadays without someone swooping down upon them. If the character
flying that thing had gone over San Clemente Island yesterday
he would have had an eyeful. Off to the west a beautiful schooner
slowly beat its way into the wind, headed on a tack toward San
Clemente. Behind it a cabin cruiser drifted crossways in the small
ground-swell, a lone fisherman in the chair aft. The fisherman was right
in the middle of the Deep. Nick recalled stories that the two best
fishing spots in Southern California were over the La Jolla Deep
and the Redondo Deep, two spots where the ocean dropped off to fantastic
depths almost from the shoreline. Someday, geologists
had warned, the land on both sides of these deeps would fall into the
ocean and no more La Jolla or Redondo Beach. Meanwhile, fishermen
took advantage of them to pull up whoppers. Sometimes the fish exploded
as they neared the surface because of the difference in pressure.

Why, he wondered, had Elaine wanted him along on this trip?

He couldn't skindive, he couldn't run a boat, except on the open
sea. He stood up, stretched, looked around for the bubbles, but could
see none. Strolling down to the galley, he lit the butane under the
coffee pot and when the brew was heated, poured himself a cup and went
up to the chartroom. Turning on the hi-fi, he went back to the cockpit,
stretched out on the cushions and listened to the music. Elaine
and Poet returned together, popping up over the transom almost
like dolphins breaking water. He sat up and watched as they pulled
themselves over the stern. "Any luck"? he asked. Poet
shook his head, sliding his face mask up on his forehead.
"We're right on the edge of the Deep", Elaine said. Pulling
off her face mask, she carefully placed the spear gun across the stern,
then lifted her wet hair from her back and squeezed out the water. "Which
is a break as the area to search is less than a square mile",
she added as she swung her legs over the transom. "Any news"?

"Not a thing". He tossed her a towel, then repeated the

service for Poet. "Cigarette"? Elaine shook her head
as she slipped out of her harness, but Poet nodded. His feet still hung
over the stern of the transom, but as he reached for the smoke he
raised them to swing them in. The fin on his foot caught on the moulding,
throwing him off balance. His forearm smashed painfully into the
narrow washboard and he grimaced as he grabbed his bruised limb with
his other hand and rolled into the boat. "Kee-reist"! The
word hissed distinctly from Poet's lips as he struggled to his feet.

Nick's body became rigid. Turning slowly he saw Poet

in a brilliant glare of horror. Poet! His face was still creased in
pain as he studied the underside of his arm. Poet a murderer? Turning
quickly toward Elaine, Nick saw that she, too, stood in shocked
surprise. The sudden silence was too silent. Instinctively
aware of the charged atmosphere, Poet raised his head slowly, looking
first at Elaine. She had caught the implication of the oath.
Her face was frozen into the mask of a mannequin, her body absolutely
motionless. And then Nick knew that all of them knew **h Elaine,
himself **h and Poet. Elaine recovered first, so quickly
that Nick thought he might have imagined her sudden reaction. "Do
you need a bandage"? she asked steadily. Poet rubbed
his arm. "It's like banging a shin", he said, his eyes lingered
on Nick's face, then moved back to Elaine. "Hurts like hell for
a second, then it disappears". "I'll get some ointment".
Elaine turned and started toward the companionway. But her walk
was too steady, too slow, telegraphing her fear. Nick sensed
it. So did Poet. Springing like a cat, he leaped back, swooped up the
spring gun and, whirling, pointed it toward the cabin. At the same
instant, Nick hit the barrel and threw himself upon the smaller man.
The gun fired next to his ear with a vicious whoosh like the first stroke
of an old steam engine. At the same instant, Elaine screamed wildly,
the sound ending abruptly as Nick went off the boat and into the
water on top of the frantic, struggling Poet. The moment the
sea closed over Nick, some atavistic sense warned him that he would
survive in this alien element only if he did not panic. But the murderer
to whom he clung had a tremendous advantage. The wide flippers
on Poet's feet gave his legs incredible power, driving the two of them
down into the water as they rolled over and over. Poet was the captured,
arms pinioned to his side, and he twisted convulsively trying
to escape. Poet would escape, Nick thought grimly, because he wore the
apparatus which would keep him alive under water. But Nick would
not let go. The rubber and glass face mask slipped from Poet's
forehead, bounced painlessly off Nick's chin, then disappeared.
Poet twisted again and Nick's knuckles scraped on the air tank, ripping
off the skin. For a split second, Nick relaxed his grip and Poet's
slippery body spun completely around before Nick could stop
him, holding him now from the rear. Something flailed at the side of
Nick's head as they rolled around and around. Suddenly Poet
stopped struggling and the two of them hung suspended in the water,
not rising, not sinking. A sharp pain lanced across Nick's chest and
a bubble of air escaped from his tortured lungs, joining dozens of
others that sailed lazily toward the surface like helium balloons rising
into the sky. A black, snake-like object swayed eerily in front of
him, spewing bubbles from its flat cobra head. The air hose was free!
The discovery struck Nick like a blow. Desperately, Nick
flashed one hand up, catching Poet's neck in the bend of his elbow.
At the same instant, he grabbed the loose, writhing hose with his
other hand and bit down on the hard rubber mouthpiece. Instinctively
he exhaled through his nose then sucked in the air from the hose. At
once the excruciating pain in his chest stopped and he was seized with
a sudden, wild exultation. As if this was a signal, Poet abruptly
began to thrash the water and the quick movement slowly made them
sink through the water. Relentlessly, Nick held on, sucking on the
hose, inhaling the air that belonged to Poet. Poet was not fighting
Nick now.

HARBOR POINT sticks out into the ocean like the fat neck
of a steamer clam. It's a rich village but not much for action- too
many solid residents, not enough tourists or working stiffs. It's
at the far end of the county and the last time I came here was for
a hit and run manslaughter- about seven months ago. Chief Bob
Moore looked his same hick-self; a man mountain running to lard
in his middle-age. Seeing me he said with real surprise, "Well, well,
ain't we honored! Hardly expected the <head> of County Homicide
up for this murder. You sure climbed fast, Jed. Rookie investigator
last summer and now it's <Inspector Jed>. Took me 19 years
to become Chief of our three man police force. Proves a college
education pays off". His sarcasm was followed by a stupid grin of his
thick mouth and bad teeth. "I guess it helps", I said,
paying no attention to his ribbing. "Never could figure out
why you ever wanted to be a cop, Jed. You're not only young but **h
well, you don't <even look> like a police officer. A runt with
narrow shoulders and that brush haircut **h hell, you'd pass for a
juvenile delinquent of the hotrod set. In my day the first requirement
for a cop was to look like the law, big and tough. Man, when my 275
pounds and six-four comes along, why it's the same as another badge.
When I say move, a guy moves"! "Don't worry about
my being tough, Moore. Also, it's far too early in the day for corny
lines like the bigger they come **h You've had your gassy lecture,
let's get to work. Who was the murdered woman **h Mrs& Buck"?

"Widow, nice sort of woman. Comfortably fixed. Ran a

fair-sized farm. Came to the Harbor as a bride and **h Don't worry
Jed, this one is in the bag. I know the killer, have the only road
off the peninsula covered". "Yeah, passed your road block
as I drove in", I said, sitting on his polished desk. Although
Bob dressed like a slob, he kept a neat office. "Okay, what happened"?
"About nine this morning Mrs& Buck phones me she's
having trouble with one of her farm hands- money trouble. Colored
fellow named Tim Williams- only hand she has working for her
now. Tim come with the migratory workers that follow the crops up from
the South last year, but Tim and his wife settled here. Never had
no trouble with him before, thought he was a hard worker, hustling around
to get a full week's work. Anyway, Julia asks me to **h".

"Julia"? "Come on, <Inspector>, look alive.

Julia Buck, the deceased", Moore said, slipping me his smug, idiot-grin
again. "Julia asks me to come out at once. But she didn't
sound real alarmed **h you know, like there was any immediate danger.
I got there at 9:47 A&M&, found her strangled. I would have
come sooner if I'd known **h. No doubt about Tim being the killer-
I have a witness. Don't know why the County had to send anybody
up here. Told them I can handle this". "Yeah, seems
you have a nice package, with all the strings tied. Who's **h"?

"I'll collar Tim before night". "Who's your

witness"? "Julia had- has- an old Indian woman cooking
for her- Nellie Harris. Probably the last of the original Island
Indians. Nellie was in the kitchen, had just come to work, when
she heard Tim arguing with Julia in the living room. Swears she
recognized his voice, that Tim yelled, 'It's my money and I want
it'! and then rushed out of the house. Then she heard Julia phone
me. Nellie went on with her house work- until I found Julia dead.
And before you say it, Nellie ain't near strong enough to have
strangled Julia. There's no doubt this Tim sneaked back and killed
Mrs& Buck. Another fact: Tim's disappeared- on the run.
But there's no way off the Point except through my road block. Guess
you want to see the body- have her up the street in Doc Abel's
office". "Let's see it". We walked up Main Street
to this big white house, then around to the back. Being the Harbors
sole doctor, Abel was also its Medical Examiner. The corpse was
on a table, covered by a sheet. Doc Abel was busy up front with some
of his live patients. Pulling back the sheet, I examined the bruises
around Julia Buck's once slender throat. Powerful hands had killed
her. "Find any prints"? Chief Moore shook his big
head, seemed lost in thought as he stared at the nude body. Then he
said, "Never noticed it before **h I mean, when she was dressed **h
but for a woman her age, Julia had a real fine figure". I
dropped the sheet, glanced at my watch. It was almost one and I hadn't
had lunch. Still, I wanted to get this over with, had a lot of
paper work waiting in my own office. I told him, "I want to go see
the Buck house". "Sure". Walking back down Main
Street, I said, "I saw the Harbor's one squad car at the
road block, we'll ride out in my car". "Naw, we'll use
mine", Moore said, opening the door of a sleek white Jaguar roadster.
As I slid in beside him he said, "Some heap, hey? Got a heck
of a buy on this, dirt cheap". "Yeah, it's a real load",
I told him, looking up the street at my battered Ford.
Five racing minutes later we pulled into the driveway of this typical
two-story house, and when the Jaguar stopped I managed to swallow.
There was a garage and a modern barn in the rear, all of it standing
between two large flat fields planted in early potatoes. Everything
shouted gentleman farming, the kind of grandfather-father-to son folding
money the Point is known for. The fins of a Caddy were sticking
out of the garage, while the inside of the house was a comfortable mixture
of old and expensive contemporary furniture. Nellie Harris
wasn't old, she was ancient- a tiny shriveled woman with a face
like a tan prune. She was also stone deaf in her right ear. She calmly
repeated what Moore had told me. When I asked, "Why didn't
you go into the living room to see how Mrs& Buck was"? the old
gal stared at me with her hard eyes, said, "She didn't call. I
do the living room last. I went up stairs and did the bath and her
bedroom- way I always do in the morning". "Have you any
idea what this Tim and Mrs& Buck were arguing about"?
"Probably wages. Miss Julia was a hard woman with a dollar. Years
ago when I asked her to put me in Social Security, so's I wouldn't
have to be working now, Miss Julia threatened to fire me-
all because it would mean a few more dollars a year to her".
"Did you hear Tim return"? "No sir. Nobody came until
Chief Moore". I drummed on the kitchen table with my pencil.
"Mrs& Buck have any men friends"? "Her"?
The wrinkled mouth laughed, revealing astonishingly strong, white, teeth.
"I never see none. But then I wasn't her social secretary".

"Was she on friendly terms with other members of her family"?

"Didn't have no family- around here. They had

a son- killed in the war". I walked into the living
room. There didn't seem to be any signs of a struggle. I told Moore,
"Where does Tim's wife live"? "I'll take you
there. Look Jed, this is an open and shut case and I have to relieve
my men at the road block soon. Okay, come on". We did 80
miles an hour across a hard dirt road to a cluster of shacks. In late
summer migratory workers lived five and six to a room in these. Now
they were empty, except for a cottage across the road. Mrs&
Tim Williams was about 21, with skin the color of bitter chocolate,
and if you discounted the plain dress and worn slippers, she was startlingly
pretty. The inside of their place was full of new furniture, five
bucks down and a buck a week stuff, but all of it clean and full of
the warmth of a home. Mrs& Williams was both sullen and frightened.
She said she didn't know a thing- Tim had left the house
at six in the morning, as usual. She hadn't seen him since.

"Did Mrs& Buck owe him any wages"? I asked. "Well,

for this week, but they wasn't due 'till Saturday. Listen,
Mr& Inspector, no matter what anybody say, my Tim didn't kill
that woman!
Tim is a good man, hard working. He strong as a bull but
gentle as a baby. Even if he angry, Tim wouldn't hurt a woman. He
never in his life took a hand to a woman or **h" "We'll
get him soon, see what he says", Chief Moore cut in. "Does
your husband have a car"? I asked. "Got us an old
station wagon. Need it for the job". I asked a silly question:
"You've no idea where your husband could be, now"?

She shook her head. I knew she was lying. I stood there, staring
at her for a moment- thinking mostly of her beauty and her poverty.

Moore said, "Come on, Jed, I have to get to my men".

On my way out I told her, "If you should **h eh **h just
happen to see your husband, get him to give himself up. He'll get a
fair trial. Hiding out like this won't get him anything, except more
trouble, or a bullet". "Yes. I'll tell him- <if>
I see him". We made it back to the Harbor in less than four
minutes. I tried not to act scared. That Jaguar could really barrel
along. I told Moore I was going to eat, get some forms filled out
by Doc Abel. Chief Moore said, "If I don't see you
when I return, see you for certain at my road block, Inspector".

I had a bowl of decent chowder, phoned the Doc and he said he'd
leave the death statements with his girl- in a half hour. Lighting
my pipe, I took a walk. The Harbor is a big yachting basin in
the summer. Even now, there were several slick cruisers tied to the dock,
an ocean-going yawl anchored inside the breakwater. There was a
34 foot Wheeler with CHIEF BOB'S in big gold letters on its stern
also tied up at the dock. It wasn't a new boat, about five years
old, but fitted with fishing outriggers and chairs. I asked an old
guy running a fishing station if the boat was Moore's. He said, "You
bet. Bob Moore is plumb crazy about blue fishing". I
dropped into the doctor's office, picked up my forms. As I was walking
back to the Police Station, which was in the same building with
the City Hall and Post Office, I saw Mrs& Tim Williams sneaking
into the back of my car. If she moved gracefully, she was clumsy
at it. I got into the front seat. She was 'hiding' on
the floor of the back seat, the soft curves of her back and hips- rousing
lines. I drove out of the Harbor, turned off into a dirt road
among the scrub pine trees and stopped. I waited a few minutes and she
sat up. For another moment we didn't talk, then she began to weep.
She mumbled, "I just know that Chief Moore is out to kill my Tim"!

"Maybe. I never saw him so anxious before", I

said, lighting my pipe and offering her a cigarette. "Of course, it
could be because this is his first murder case. You know where Tim
is, don't you, Mrs& Williams"? She puffed on the cigarette
slowly, sitting slumped against the back seat; didn't answer.
But the police have dropped the case. I want you to go to Pearson City
and find out why- first-hand stuff for your modern crime series.
Take the same train Diana Beauclerk took and get there at the same
time. Go to the same hotel and occupy the same suite- 1105".

"Will the hotel rent it so soon after the crime"? "Why

not? The police have finished with it. Besides, the number
of the suite hasn't been published in any newspaper. To the hotel people,
you'll just be an innocent tourist who happens to ask for that
particular suite". "Still, they may not want to rent it".

"That's your headache. Once inside, keep your eyes open"!

"For what"! Alec was growing more and more skeptical.

"The police will have gone over every square inch of the place
with a fine-tooth comb. The hotel people will have scoured and vacuumed
it. Ten to one, it's even been redecorated"! "There's
always a chance they may have overlooked something", returned
the chief. "I'm betting on that chance. Interview the bellboy
and chambermaid who waited on Beauclerk. Study the topography of the
suite. Soak up local color. Reenact everything Beauclerk did.

Try to imagine you're going to be murdered yourself- between

eleven p&m& and one a&m& the night you arrive". Alec
smirked. "Cheerful way to spend an evening"! A sudden thought
wiped the smirk from his face. "Suppose the murderer should return
to the scene of the crime"! The chief's eyes gleamed.
He spoke softly. "That is exactly what I'm hoping for. After all,
the murderer is still at large. And the key to the suite is still
missing". ##

On the train Alec refreshed his memory of the Beauclerk

case by reading teletype flimsies- spot-news stories about
the crime sent out by the <Pearson City Star,> a member of the Syndicate
Press. Diana Beauclerk was a second-rate actress living
in New York. Two weeks ago she had gone west to Pearson City.
Daniel Forbes, her divorced husband, lived there. So did the firm
of lawyers who had got her the divorce, Kimball and Stacy.
She reached Pearson City at nine p&m& and went straight to the
Hotel Westmore. She telephoned the junior partner of her law firm,
Martin Stacy, and asked him to call at her hotel that evening.

At the time of her divorce Forbes had promised to pay her a lump sum
in lieu of further alimony if she remarried. According to Stacy,
she told him she was planning to remarry and she wanted him to ask Forbes
for the lump sum. Stacy replied that it would bankrupt Forbes,
who had just sunk all his money in a real estate venture. Stacy
said he left her suite at nine forty-five p&m&. She was in good
health and spirits, but still determined to get the money from Forbes.
No one saw Stacy leave. No other visitor inquired for her that
evening. Next morning she was found dead in her suite with a bullet
from a .22-caliber Colt revolver in her brain. According to the
medical examiner, she was shot between eleven p&m& and one a&m&.
Her door was locked and the key was missing. So was the gun.

When Alec finished reading he was sure that either Forbes or Stacy
had killed Diana Beauclerk. Forbes had motive and Stacy had
opportunity.
Find a motive for Stacy or an opportunity for Forbes and the case
would be solved. ##

The Hotel Westmore proved to be one of the

older hotels in Pearson City, and definitely second-rate. Alec's
first impression of the lobby was gloomy, Victorian dignity- black
walnut and red plush, a black and white tiled floor, and Persian rugs.

He studied the night clerk as a man measures an adversary.

"I'd like the room I had the last time". "Certainly,
sir". The clerk was young and limp, with a tired smile. "Do you
recall the number"? "It was 1105". The clerk's
smile congealed. "That suite is taken". Alec's glance
went to a chart of guest names and room numbers hanging on the wall
behind the clerk. Opposite the number 1105 stood one word: <Unoccupied>.

The clerk's glance followed Alec's. "We have

better rooms vacant now", he babbled. "Larger and more comfortable.
At the same rate".

Alec's face was dark, blunt, and sulky.

He always looked impertinent and he could look dangerous. He was
looking dangerous now. He raised his voice. "Anything wrong with
the plumbing in 1105"? There was a sudden stillness in the
lobby. Two women, who had been chattering like parrots, were struck
dumb. A man, lighting a match for his cigar, paused until the flame
burned his fingers. Even the bellboys on their bench were listening.

The clerk's eyes flickered. "Of course not"!

"Anybody with a contagious disease been in there"? "No"!
The clerk was almost hysterical. "It's just that- well,
1105 is being redecorated". "I don't believe it". Alec
leaned on the desk, holding the clerk's eyes with his. "Suppose
you tell me the real reason", he drawled. "There might be a story
in it". "St-story"? "I'm with the Syndicated
Press, Feature Service. Either I get the story- or I get
the suite". It was blackmail and the clerk knew it. "There
is no story", he piped tremulously. "Front! Show this gentleman
to 1105"! The stillness persisted as Alec followed
a bellboy across the lobby to the elevator. He could feel eyes on his
back. He wished it had not been necessary to announce the number of
his suite quite so publicly. The corridor on the eleventh floor
was dimly lighted by electric globes at intervals of thirty feet. A
thick, crimson carpet muffled every footfall. At the end of the corridor
Alec noticed a door marked: <Fire Stairs>. It was a neat
setup for murder. The bellboy unlocked a white door numbered
1105. The room was dark but a neon sign flashed and faded beyond the
window. A few snowflakes sifted down through that theatrical red glow,
languid as falling feathers. Hastily the boy switched on a ceiling
light. The room looked normal and even commonplace. There was
no hint of a violent struggle now. Deal furniture with a mahogany finish
was neatly arranged as if it stood in the window of a department
store. The blue rug was suspiciously bright and new. It had never been
stained with blood. Table covers and towels were clean, ashtrays
empty and supplied with fresh matches. The mirror over the bureau was
a blank eye, round and innocent. Alec played the part of an innocent
tourist. "Is there anything wrong with this room"?

"N-no". The boy dropped his eyes. "Afraid you'll

lose your job if you don't keep your mouth shut"? The boy
raised his eyes. "Listen, mister. If you want my advice, pack up
and take the next train back to New York". "Were you on
duty here two weeks ago"? The boy hesitated. Then, "I'm
not talking. But I wouldn't spend a night in here for a million
bucks"! He was in a hurry to get out of the room. Alec
gave him a tip and let him go. Alone, Alec examined the doors.
There were three- one leading to a bathroom, one to the hall, and
one to the room next door which was immovable- locked or bolted on
the other side. Alec locked the hall door and put the key with his
watch on the bedside table. It was just quarter of nine. As
he ranged his belongings on the bureau he noticed a film of white dust
on the dark surface of the wood beyond the linen cover. Not gray like
the dust that collects in an unused room, but white. Women didn't
use white face powder nowadays, he recalled. They used pink, tan, or
cream powder. Alec glanced into the bathroom. <Blood in the
bathtub where the murderer appears to have washed his hands>.
It seemed
clean now, but Alec decided against a bath. He crawled into bed and
switched off the light. In the darkness he could see the rosy
reflection of the neon sign on the wall opposite the window. It winked
as steadily as a metronome- on, off- on, off. In less than
five minutes
Alec was asleep. He never knew just what woke him. Yet
suddenly he was wide-awake. There was no sound and apparently no movement
in the room except the noiseless pulsation of the red light on
the wall. He lay still, listening to the silence, watching the
light. Somewhere in the city a big clock sounded twelve solemn notes-
midnight. <According to the medical examiner she was shot between
eleven p&m& and one a&m&> **h.

Alec heard a faint sound.

His heart seemed to swell and knock against the wall of his chest.
For the sound was inside the room. he let his eyelids droop
and breathed heavily, feigning sleep. The sound was coming nearer. A
monstrous shadow fell across the illuminated wall, distorted and indefinable.

When the neon sign faded out, the shadow disappeared.

When the neon sign flashed on, the shadow was still there. It stretched
to an impossible height, climbing the wall to the ceiling. That
meant that something between the light and its reflection on the wall
was moving closer to the source of the light- in this case, the window.

Cautiously Alec tensed his muscles, ready to jump. The bedsprings

betrayed him with a creak. The shadow vanished. Someone
had moved beyond the range of the light from the window. Abandoning
caution, Alec leaped out of bed and groped for the light switch.
Before he could snap it on, a stinging blow caught him in the ribs.
He lashed out blindly with his right. There was a thick, squashy crack
of fist on flesh. Something hard grazed his knuckles. He
put everything he had into the next and aimed down where the stomach ought
to be. Rough cloth rasped his fist. There was a grunt, curiously
inarticulate, like that of an animal in pain. Something heavy shook
the floor as it dropped. Alec waited a moment, on guard. Nothing
happened. Again he groped for the light switch. The blue
rug had been rolled up and stacked in one corner of the room. On the
bare floorboards a man lay face down. He had a short, heavy, powerful
body. Alec turned him over and discovered a round, lumpy face
with narrow, slanting eyes- a primitive Tartar face from Russia
or the Balkans. The man's shoes were too pointed, his overcoat too
broad at the shoulders and too narrow at the waist. There was
a slight bulge under the left armpit- a shoulder holster. Alec promptly
removed the gun. He was familiar with this type. He had seen it
in the lineup at Police Headquarters in New York, in Broadway night
clubs and Seventh Avenue pool rooms, in the criminal courts. But
he was surprised to meet it here. Diana Beauclerk had no connection
with the underworld. A professional gunman would not have killed
her with a weapon of such small caliber as a .22. Nor would he
choose a respectable hotel as the scene for a killing when it would be
so much safer to take his victim for a one-way ride on a lonely country
road. The man's eyelids fluttered. He opened his eyes.

"What are you doing here"? demanded Alec. The man

made no reply. His eyes were dazed. His lips were bruised and swollen
where Alec had hit him. "Did you kill Diana Beauclerk"?

Alec expected an indignant denial, but there was no response

at all. "Oh, come on, snap out of it! Or I'll turn
you over to the police"! The silence was getting on Alec's
nerves. The man opened his mouth, but no words came. Only that
curious, animal grunting Alec had heard during their fight.
"Don't you speak English"? The man opened his mouth
wider. A forefinger pointed toward his gullet. Alec leaned forward to
look. There were hideous scars inside the throat and the palate was
mutilated.
In good time I shall get to the distressing actuality, to Red McIver
and Handley Walker, to murder and sudden death. But you realize,
I am sure, how much old deeds incite to new ones, and you must forgive
me if I tell you first of the old ones. It was in 1814 that
Abraham Wharf and his sister sat by a meager fire in their house
on Dogtown Common, a desolate place even then. He was sharpening his
razor. "Sister", said he "do you think people who commit suicide
go to heaven"? and she answered, "I don't know, but I hope
you'll never do such a thing". Without a tremor, "God forbid"!
he said, and went out and cut his throat in the cave near Granny
Day's swamp. What has this to do with the present? Much,
I assure you. You must know what gets into people, even such as
Red and Handley, before you can tell what comes out of them. They
had learned, both of them, about Abraham Wharf. That's why I
beg
you not to forget him. His ghost is not laid. Red and Handley, God
help them, knew the old Dogtown lore; and I knew they knew it, for
I'd told them a lot of it. And isn't it true that you get a deeper
perception about a man and his motives when you know what it is
he knows? Yes, gentlemen, I am getting to the point, to my
point. You know the facts; they are set forth in your own newspapers.
You want from me the story, but a story is about 'why' and then,
perhaps, about 'how'. The 'when' you know; yesterday morning.
So what I am trying to tell you is the 'why'- that is <my>
point- and that concerns the spirit of the matter. There is an
inwardness and a luster to old furniture (look at that mahogany highboy
behind you) which has a provocative emanation, if I may say so. Places,
too, have their haunting qualities. Even people. And my point
in this sad story is the spirit of the matter. When you hold the spirit
of a thing, then somehow you know the truth- you know a fake antique
from the real thing. And the truth is what you've come for, is
it not? Now, Dogtown is one of those places that creeps into
the marrow as worms get into old wood, under the veneer. In fact,
all the folk who lived on the back of Cape Ann, they are not just like
others. There's a different hall-mark on them. There were no witch
burnings here because everyone had a witch in the family. Just think
of old Granther Stannard who pulled the teeth of Dark Younger
(her real name was Dorcas), and because he bungled the job and left
two protruding tusks she put such a hex on him that he thought his legs
were made of glass. After that he was never known to run or even walk
fast. Today Dogtown is the only deserted village in all New England
that I know of. There it sits, a small highland, with towns like
Gloucester near by; but now it's the most lost and tortured place
in the world. Those who lived in that desolation of rocky deformity
took on some of the moraine's stony character. Scientists say it
is the last spewings of a great glacier, but one rather feels that only
a malevolent giant could have piled up those crouching monsters of granite
which still seem to preserve a sort of suspended, ominous life
in them. We'll walk up there later. It's perhaps a mile from
here where we sit. And not one single dwelling left there, though
once, in the early eighteenth century, there were close to a hundred
houses. (I myself have identified about sixty sites, from the old maps
and registers. A fascinating pursuit, I assure you.) Even I can
remember nothing but ruined cellars and tumbled pillars, and nobody has
lived there in the memory of any living man. It is now a sweep of boulders
and ledges, with oak, walnut and sumac creeping across the common,
and everywhere the ruins and the long, long shadows. That's
your setting, and a sinister one. Please get that in your reports.
It accounts for so many things. Both Red McIver and Handley Walker
lived nearby, almost as near as I do. Red lived at Lanesville,
and from his house he could be up on the Common in a half hour's
brisk walk; Handley lived further on, at Pigeon Cove. I'd often
find one or other of them up around Dogtown sketching. They were
both
painters, (They were? They are? What should one say?) Well,
anyhow, Dogtown Common is so much off the beaten track nowadays
that only Sunday picnickers still stray up there, from time to
time. Sea-road, railroad, lack of water, killed Dogtown. Dead, dead
as a brass door nail, and I sometimes feel like the Sexton, for I'm
about the last to be even interested. I knew Red and Handley
well. As I said, they were both painters. They'd come, separately,
to Gloucester some twenty years ago- there's always been an
artists' colony somewhere on Cape Ann- and each married here.
They married cousins, Anta and Freya Norberg. There are a lot of
Scandinavians in this neck of the woods, and many still make painted
furniture and take steam-baths. Pretty girls among them, with blonde
hair and pert faces. Handley married Freya and Red, of the red beard,
married Anta. And it was because of an old Norberg inheritance that
I got to understand them all so well. The quarrel ended in a ridiculous
draw, but I must tell you about it. Oh, yes, I'm quite sure
it's important, because of the Beech Pasture. What's that?
Why, that's what gave me the feeling, gave me as-it-were the spirit,
the demoniac, evil spirit of this whole affair. You see, besides
being custodian of antiquities, I am also registrar. No, I don't
hold with those who live entirely among dead things. I know as
well as the next man that a ship is called from the rigging she carries,
where the live wind blows, and not from the hull. But you've got
to know both. What's below the water-line interests me also. As I
was saying, I've known all about the old records, including the old
Norberg deed. Some ten years ago that page was torn out, I don't
know by whom. About five years ago, Handley came to ask me if he
could see the tattered register. He was courteous and casual about it,
as though it were of no consequence. He's always like that, in spite
of being a big man. (When you see him, you'll notice his habit
of fingering, I might almost say, stroking a large mole with black hairs
on it, by his right temple.) A sensual man, but very courteous, some
would say slick. Like his glossy black hair. Too many outside manners,
to my taste. He is the sort who, with an appraising eye, would
cross the street to help a strange woman on to a bus and then pinch her.
A real gentleman, I feel, would do neither. He's always worn
a broad-brimmed hat, and I've noticed, in my small study at the Society,
that he rather smells of cosmetics. The next week, cousin Red
wandered in as casually, but curt and untidy. Red was small and fine-boned,
like ivory-inlay. He too asked to see the same page. When I
told him someone had torn it out, he shouted. "By God, it's that
damn Handley, the sneak"! And later in the same week they both
came together to examine the register. Fortunately we were alone in
the building- so few people nowadays are interested even in their own
past or in the lovely craft of other days- for they began to abuse
each other in the foulest language. Red thrusting out his tawny beard,
Handley glowering under his suddenly rumpled black hair. They actually
bristled. <Le rouge et le noir>. Violent men both. Red always
was morose, yet that day the dapper Handley was the louder of the
two. But for my presence, they would have been at each others' throats.

During the quarrel I learned what the trouble was, from

the accusations each hurled at the other. The Beech Pasture had
suddenly
become valuable. There's a fine granite quarry there, and granite's
coming back for public buildings. Both men knew it was in the
Norberg family holdings, but to which of the cousins did it belong,
Anta or Freya? Fortunately, I knew almost exactly what the will
had said. It began with a preamble, of course. This explained that the
judge of probate of Essex County, 1785 or 1786, appointed three free-holders
of Gloucester to divide and establish the Norberg estate.
After the usual Honorable Sirs, it went on to say that there had
been set off to the widow one full third part of the real estate of
the deceased Salu Norberg, one lower room, on the Western side, privileges
to the well and bake-oven and to one third of the cellar (I
can show you the cellar when we go up), also one Cow Right, and lastly
they set off to the widow her own land that she brought with her as
dower, namely the Beech Pasture. And I remember that the whole of
the privileges, not counting the Beech Pasture, was valued at twenty
pounds. I wish you could have seen the crests fall on these two sparring
coxcombs when I told them that obviously the pasture belonged
to their wives jointly. That battle scene, ridiculous at it was,
remained in my mind. A disturbing picture of bad blood, to be further
heightened with illicit if buccolic colors, for on a subsequent day
I saw Handley escorting Anta, Red's wife, up on Dogtown Common.
I felt it would be inopportune to disclose my presence. Not that
I intentionally go unperceived, but the boulders up there are very high
and I am a small woman.

One other cause of jealousy between them

I must tell you. Paint! Gloomy and unkempt as Red McIver was,
he was much the better painter. I suppose Handley knew it. If Red
had a show at Gloucester, Handley would hurry to hang his pictures in
Rockport. You may say this has little pertinence, but, gentlemen,
remember that all this prepared my mind, alerted my intelligence. By
such touches the pattern takes shape. You would call these the motives
of crime. I would call them the patterns of life, perhaps even the
designs of destiny. Yet with all this knowledge I had nothing of substance
to unravel our case, as you would call it, till yesterday.

One month ago, on the 20th of October, was the opening of the gunning
season in Massachusetts. Not much to shoot, but there are a few
pheasant. Rabbits, too, if you care for them, which most of the folk
around here haven't the sense to appreciate. Any more than they have
the sense to eat mussels. That was the day Red was said to have
gone away. Oh yes, he'd talked about doing so. In fact, he often disappeared,
from time to time,- off to paint the sea, aboard a dragger
out from Gloucester. Anta, his wife, never seemed to mind. I suppose
these absences gave her more clearance for her embraces with Cousin
Handley. Anyhow, I wasn't surprised, early that morning, to see
Handley himself crossing from Dogtown Common Road to the Back
Road. No, he didn't have his gun, which he should have. It would
have been a good excuse for his being there at all. I myself had been
up there by seven o'clock, after mushrooms, since there'd been a
week of rain which had stopped early that morning and the day was as clear
as Sandwich glass.

That's what the man had said. Haney peered doubtfully at his
drinking companion through bleary, tear-filled eyes. He had no ready
answer, as much from surprise as from the fit of coughing. Was the
man drunk or crazy or both? But his new-found buddy had matched him
drink for drink until he lost count, and the man's eyes were still
clear. <The guy is off his rocker,> Haney thought to himself,
and looked away from those eyes. Eyes that were clear, but also bright
with a strange intensity, a sort of cold fire burning behind them.
Why hadn't he noticed it before? No, the man was not drunk **h
He wondered how he got tied up with this stranger. But, of course,
he remembered now. It was blurred, after two hours of steady drinking,
but the occasion of it came back to him. The stranger, his head
seemingly sunk in thought, started to cross the street against the
light just as a huge moving van roared through the intersection.

Brakes howled and a horn blared furiously, but the man would have
been hit if Phil hadn't called out to him a second before. His shout
had been involuntary, something anybody might have done without thinking,
on the spur of the moment. As a matter of fact, he wouldn't
have cared at all if the guy had been hit. Actually, he regretted having
opened his mouth when the truck came to a stop and the angry driver
jumped down from the cab and walked back toward them. By then,
the stranger was thanking Haney profusely and had one arm around his
shoulders as if he were an old friend. So the driver started to curse
at both of them as if they had been in a plot together to ruin his
safe-driving record. Then the man he saved turned and looked
squarely into the truck driver's face, without saying a word. Very
suddenly, the driver stopped swearing at them, turned on his heel and
went back to his truck. Haney hadn't given it much thought at
the time. Now he recalled it very clearly, and wondered what the truck
driver had seen in those eyes to make him back off. It must have
been the sort of look that can call a bluff without saying a word.

When the light went their way, they went on across the street. And
when the stranger found out that Phil was on the way to one of his
favorite bars, he insisted on offering to buy drinks for both of them.

Phil usually went alone and kept to himself, sitting in a corner

and passing the time by nursing his favorite grudges. But he decided
he wouldn't mind company in return for free drinks, even though
he made good money at his job. Phil was like that. ##

NOW
he wondered
if it was worth it, having a screwball for company. He really
didn't take the offer seriously, but he began to feel uneasy. When
he finally got the coughing under control, he realized that Pete (all
he gave was his first name) was still waiting for an answer- he didn't
even seem to wink as he continued to stare. Haney managed
a weak laugh. "Guess I can't think of anyone, Pete. Thanks anyhow".

A faint crease appeared between the man's eyebrows.

"I think you aren't taking me seriously, Phil. I meant it. And
everybody has some kind of grudge. I might have got hit by that truck
if it wasn't for you. I believe in returning favors. I'll do
anything for somebody I like. It won't cost you a cent, Phil. Go
ahead and try me"! Phil rubbed his forehead wearily. He
was beginning to feel woolly. Maybe it would be better to humor the
guy and then make an exit. He really didn't expect anything to come
of it, and there <were> a few people **h "All right",
he
conceded finally, "if you must know, I don't get along with the
landlord. He keeps riding me because I like to listen to the radio
and sing while I'm taking a bath. He says the neighbors complain,
but I don't believe it. Why don't they tell me themselves if it
bothers them"? The man closed his eyes and nodded. When he
looked up again, he seeemd almost contented. "Fine. Give me your
address. It will take a little time. I want to study your landlord's
habits and movements first. You see, I always make it look like
an accident. Maybe suicide, if it looks reasonable. In that way there's
no trouble for the customer". Haney's eyebrows flew
up. <"Customer"?> Pete smiled modestly. "It's my
line of work", he said **h Five minutes later, before Haney
could make his break, the stranger stood up and nodded farewell. Haney
watched the small but wiry man slip out the door quickly and silently,
and felt relieved to see that nobody else seemed to notice his departure.

Phil decided to stay a little longer, and as time passed

it seemed as if the strange little man had never been there, but for
the other glass on the table. Some time before midnight he returned
to his apartment and hit the sack, putting the whole incident out of
mind before he fell asleep. The next day, Sunday, the hangover
reminded Haney where he had been the night before. The hangover
in turn reminded him of his conversation with the weirdy, and he
groaned. He went for more aspirin later in the day, and passed the surly
landlord on the way- he was still alive and scowling as usual,
as if tenants were a burden in his life. Phil shrugged and ignored him.

He went back to work Monday. By Wednesday the landlord was

still alive. Of course **h On Thursday, Haney mailed the monthly
check for separate maintenance to his wife Lolly, and wished the stranger
could do something about her **h Coming home from work,
he was startled to see a police car parked in front of the apartment
building. Inside the lobby, people were standing around, talking excitedly.
His spine crawled with a foreboding premonition as he asked one
of his fellow tenants what had happened. The landlord had died.
Late that afternoon, it seemed, he had fallen off the roof while
on some obscure errand or inspection. He had apparently been alone. Nobody
witnessed the fall- just the sickening impact when his body smashed
on the pavement just outside the basement delivery entrance.

Haney hoped that nobody noticed his sudden pallor, as he felt the
blood drain from his cheeks. He muttered something about how terrible
it was, and walked with deliberate slowness to the elevator. Once
inside his apartment, he poured a drink with trembling hands and flopped
limply in a chair. After a while he began to feel better about
it, especially when no one bothered to ask any questions. But after
all, why should they? Still later, he finally convinced himself
that it <was> an accident- just a coincidence. The stranger really
had nothing to do with it, of course **h Haney went to bed,
happy that at least he was rid of that lousy landlord. After all, the
man had no family, so no one suffered, and everybody was better off
for it. Really, he said to himself, nobody kills a man just as a favor!

<So you thought I didn't mean what I said>. The stranger's

eyes were large and sad, as if Phil Haney had hurt his feelings.
It was like a recurrent, annoying dream, but now the dream was
beginning to take on overtones of a nightmare. However, Haney
knew it was not a dream. He might be very tight, but he knew where
he was. It was the same bar, and it was two weeks later- Saturday
night, when he had an excuse to drink heavier than usual. ##

HE
had been sitting in the usual corner at the little table, as far as possible
from any talkative, friendly lushes. He was enjoying the weekly
ritual of washing down his pet grievance with bourbon slightly moistened
with water. This favorite grievance was not the landlord. He had
already quite forgotten about him. In fact, he had only mentioned him
on the spur of the moment. His real grievance was Lolly. Toward
the end of his fourth hairy highball, while he was moodily making
wet rings on the table-top with the bottom of the glass, he became
aware that he was not alone. He looked up with bloodshot eyes and beheld
the stranger sitting across the table, smiling a secret smile at him,
as if they were fellow conspirators. He hadn't even noticed-
what was his name? Pete?- he hadn't seen him sit down. The man
was uncanny, like a shadow, and made as much noise as a shadow.

Haney felt like shrinking out of sight, but he was already trapped
in the corner with the wiry, dark little man. He began to wish that
he hadn't shouted that other evening when the truck bore down through
the crossing. Was he going to be saddled from now on with a creep
for a bar-buddy? He'd have to start going to some of the other places
again. In a low voice, almost whispering, the man had asked
Phil if he was happy with the way the landlord had been taken off
his back. He made the mistake of answering in an offhand way, and instantly
realized that his skepticism must have showed in his face or voice.

Pete frowned slightly, then became sad and moody. Haney

didn't want to encourage his company, but felt he ought to buy him a
drink anyhow, to prevent possible trouble. But there was no trouble.
The guy sulked over his drink, obviously upset by Haney's lack of
appreciation. To break the uncomfortable silence, Haney began
to talk. In time, and two drinks later, he was complaining bitterly
about his wife, He was on the subject for ten minutes or so when he
noticed the renewed interest in his listener- it showed in the alert
face and the suddenly bright eyes. When he paused to moisten
his throat, the stranger broke in. "But why pay her bills? If she
runs around with other men, and if you hate her as you say, why not
just divorce her"? Haney scowled. "That bitch would love
a divorce", he growled. "Then she'd get half of everything I
have. Community property deal- you know. I'd have to sell out
my business to pay her off with her share. She can drop dead"!

Pete nodded understandingly. "Oh yes. Now I see. You must

understand, I haven't been in this state too long. I came out here
to retire. That's why I- why I do a free job now and then. You
should have told me about her before". Haney felt a twinge
of annoyance when he heard the now familiar line again. Then a wild
thought ran circles through his clouded brain. Suppose- just suppose
this guy was really what he said he was! A retired professional killer
**h If he was just a nut, no harm was done. But if he was the
real thing, he could do something about Lolly. He felt very cunning,
very proud of himself as he played on the other man's soft spot.

"No offense intended", he said gently. "But it's just that-

well, you know. The cops didn't suspect a thing, and I thought
it was a coincidence. After all, I didn't know you, Pete. It
<could> have been an accident". He shrugged casually. "But if
you say you managed it **h" The stranger was hooked. His eyes burned
feverishly. "Yes, yes", he muttered impatiently. "Of course
it looked like an accident. I always work it that way- and always
at a time when the customer has an alibi. Let me prove it, Phil. I
think I can manage one more favor for you". He waited eagerly.

Haney swished the liquor in the bottom of his glass.

About halfway back Pops groped against a wall and stopped, pulled away
two loosely nailed wide boards at one end, and went through. "C'mon",
he whispered; "floor level's about three feet down, so
don't fall". I went through and down, into pitch darkness. He said,
"Jist stay still. I'll pull the boards back and then get us
a light. Jist stay where you are". I jist stayed where I was while
he fumbled around and then walked away. A moment later he struck a
match and lighted a candle, and I could see. It was a big room,
empty except for a few things of Pop's at the far end- a wooden
crate on which stood the candle, a spread out blanket, and an unrolled
bindle. I looked back over my shoulder while I went to join him;
he'd hung another half of a blanket over the boarded window so no
light would show through. I took the pint bottle from my pocket
and handed it over as I sat down beside him on the spread blanket.
"You first", I said. He drank and handed it back. "Nice
place", I told him. "Listen, I got a buddy I travel with,
real nice guy named Larry. I know where he is, right near here. Could
he join the party and sleep here tonight too? We'll both be blowing
town tomorrow so we won't be moving in on you". He hesitated
a second, looking at the bottle, before he said "Sure-sure",
and I reassured him. "He'll bring a bottle too, and I'll
get another one or maybe two while I'm out. You can work on this
one while I'm gone, kill it if you want". I took a short swallow
from it myself and handed it to him. His "sure-sure" was
enthusiastic this time. He put the bottle down. "Git over by the window
while there's light, an' I'll put th' candle out. When
yuh come back I'll put it out agin till you're both inside".

Charlie was waiting, leaning against a building front. "Perfect

set-up", I told him. "But we got to go back to Fifth and get
another bottle or two. On the way I'll give you the scoop".

On the way I gave him the scoop. I bought another pint of sherry
and when we got back Pops let us in in the dark, put back the blanket
and then lighted the candle again. I introduced my friend Larry
to Pops and we made ourselves comfortable. There was still a little,
not much, left in the first bottle and we passed it around once and
killed it, and Charlie opened his. I was reminded, amusedly,
by a poem of Kenneth Patchen's called <The Murder of Two Men
by a Young Kid Wearing Lemon Colored Gloves>, which Patchen himself
read on a record against jazz background. The poem consisted of
only two words, the word "Wait", repeated over and over at irregular
intervals and with different inflections, and then the word "Now"!
and a blaring final chord from the jazz group. This was
the same, except that it was the murder of one man by two men and neither
of us was wearing gloves. But we could wait all right; there
was no hurry. I said, "Wait **h wait" to Charlie and he grinned,
digging the reference. We'd heard the record together once.

The second bottle passed a few times. Pop was taking long ones, but
not showing the effect yet. He seemed as drunk as when I'd first
talked to him, but no drunker. He had a capacity; if we'd really
been trying to get him dead drunk we'd have had to go out for more
wine. About halfway through the second bottle, Charlie looked
at me across Pops, who was sitting between us and asked "Now"?
I said, "Wait", and handed the bottle to Pops for his final
drink. When he handed it back and I had hold of it safely, Pops was
looking toward me and I said "Now", to Charlie and he swung
the short length of lead pipe he'd meanwhile taken from his pocket,
once. It was a lead pipe cinch. There was a sound like the one
you produce by flicking a watermelon with your finger, only louder,
and Pops fell forward from the waist and then over sidewise. Out cold,
if not dead; and he'd never known what hit him- he'd never
known that <anything> had hit him. I reached my hand toward
him to put it inside his shirt to feel for a heartbeat, but Charlie
said "Wait"!- and said it sharply, not as in the Patchen bit,
but as an order- so I stopped my hand and looked at him. He was
holding the piece of lead pipe out to me. "We don't want to
know whether he's dead, yet. I gauged that blow to be borderline.
To kayo him and maybe or maybe not kill. You hit again about twice
that hard before we know whether he's dead or not. That way we'll
never know which of us really killed him and which was just the accomplice.
Dig"? I dug him, I saw his point; it made sense.
I took the piece of pipe from Charlie's hand and used it, harder
than he had. The <thunk> was louder, anyway, and I thought I heard
bone crack. Charlie said, "Good boy. That did it, if mine
didn't. And we'll never know which. All right, now I'll give
you a hand". We straightened Pops up and I made sure there
was no trace of a heartbeat. I nodded to Charlie. "Let's
put him down again the way he was. It's a more natural position".
We did that. "How do you feel"? Charlie asked me.

"Cool", I told him. "What do you feel"? "Nothing.

Well **h maybe I'm exaggerating. It was a kick, but not
a big enough one for me to want to take the chance again, except for
stakes. But let's not talk about it abstractly until we're out of
here. Now, first question: the bottles. Shall we take them all with
us, or leave one"? "Take them", I said. "If we
left one we'd have to wipe it for fingerprints. Here's the picture
we want to leave for the fuzz- whenever the body gets found. This
happened in the middle of a drinking bout with another bum. If they'd
been working on a bottle or a jug he'd have taken it with him".

"Right. And he'd have taken the weapon with him too, so
we take that. Now"- He looked around. "I've been careful
about fingerprints. How about you"? "Same. There are
the boards over the window, of course, but they're not painted and too
rough to take prints. Same goes for the rough cement of the ledge.
Besides, I doubt if the cops will even try dusting. They find dead
winos every day, maybe they won't even autopsy him for the cause of
death". "We can't take a chance on that. We've got to
assume they'll decide he was murdered and we've got to keep the
picture consistent. Our hypothetical other bum who killed him would have
turned out his pockets. Let's do that". We did that and found
a dirty handkerchief, some matches and fourteen cents in change. We
took the matches- they were book matches and once they'd been touched
might retain fingerprints- and the change. We discussed
the candle and decided the hypothetical other bum would have left it
burning to light his way to the window and because he'd have no reason
to blow it out. The candle had been stuck on a tin lid so it wouldn't
set fire to the crate when it guttered out. A fire wouldn't have
mattered except that it would cause Pops to be found sooner. He
might not be found for days, even weeks, otherwise. We went once
more over every point, then triple-checked. Being picked up for questioning
by a cop on the way out seemed to be the only possible remaining
danger, and we weren't picked up by a cop. In fact, nobody saw
us, cop or citizen. Winsett is a quiet street with no taverns and was
completely deserted at that hour. Which, if it matters, was one A&M&.
Less than three hours ago we'd decided, in Maxine Wells's
pad on Cosmo, to commit a trial murder. It had gone like clockwork.
Almost <too> smoothly, I found myself thinking, and then told
myself that was ridiculous. How safe is too safe? Thinking like that
can get you into a padded pad. An hour later we were back
in my unpadded pad, killing what had been left of the second pint. We
decided to leave the third one intact for tomorrow. Also our plans for
me to commit Charlie's murder and for him to commit mine. But we
were really going to do it. We shook hands on it. We planned
ahead only one step, a rendezvous for tomorrow when we could swap notes.
I'd tell him everything I'd learned about Seaton's habits
and habitat, and he'd tell me the score on Radic. We made the date
for two o'clock in the afternoon at Maxine Wells's pad. Charlie
would get there early because he had the key. From here on in, the
less Charlie and I were seen together in public, or visited one another's
rooms, the better. I was dead tired and slept soundly,
as far as I know dreamlessly. We met at Maxine's and decided
we were set to stay as long as it took, into or even through the
evening, to talk things out. Charlie had brought food and we'd decided
on no drinks. I'd brought along the virgin pint from last night,
but we were going to kill that only when we were through talking.

I talked first, telling him everything I knew about Seaton and

his house and domestic arrangements. I drew diagrams and floor plans;
he memorized them thoroughly and then we tore them into tiny pieces
and flushed them down. He gave me equivalent and even more detailed
dope on Radic, including diagrams- one of the apartment building
Radic lived in and one of the apartment itself. He'd been there several
times, back when, while he and Radic had been friends, or at least
not enemies. It didn't take us as long as we'd thought
it might; it was not quite six o'clock when we finished and Charlie
said, "Well, I guess that's it. Shall we flip a coin to see
which of us goes first? Or would you rather deal a hand of show-down
poker or play a game of gin rummy, or what"? "Wait a
minute, Charlie", I said. "One thing we haven't discussed, expense
money. We'll need <some> at least, if only bus fare to the
scene of the crime. And if you're as flat broke as I am, I think
we'll have to take the added risk of knocking over a filling station
or something before we split for one of us to set up an alibi while
the other does his dirty work". He sighed. "All right, I'll
come clean. I've got a little stashed for a rainy day, and I
guess this is rainy enough. A couple of hundred. If you draw the short
straw I'll lend you some bread, like fifty bucks, before I take
off to visit my sister in Frisco. Then, after I'm back, another
fifty so you can put some mileage on yourself and have a solid alibi
somewhere while I take care of your seat cover boy". "Solid",
I said. I took a deep breath, and the plunge. "In that case,
let's not draw.
I'll go to bat first. You'd have to wait till Seaton's
back from Mexico City and also while I set it up with Doris
to have <her> have an alibi for D-night. So it wouldn't be
for days or even a week before you could do anything. But your friend
Manny can go any time". He grinned and clapped me on the shoulder.
"I was hoping you'd say that, Willy. But I wouldn't
have suggested it. Well- in that case, I take off tomorrow morning
for Frisco. And, in case, I brought the money with me".

Now that he knew himself to be self he was free to grok ever closer
to his brothers, merge without let. Self's integrity was and
is and ever had been. Mike stopped to cherish all his brother selves,
the many threes-fulfilled on Mars, corporate and discorporate, the precious
few on Earth- the unknown powers of three on Earth that would
be his to merge with and cherish now that at last long waiting he
grokked and cherished himself. Mike remained in trance; there
was much to grok, loose ends to puzzle over and fit into his growing-
all that he had seen and heard and been at the Archangel Foster
Tabernacle (not just cusp when he and Digby had come face to face alone)
**h why Bishop Senator Boone made him warily uneasy, how Miss
Dawn Ardent tasted like a water brother when she was not, the smell
of goodness he had incompletely grokked in the jumping up and down and
wailing- Jubal's conversations coming and going- Jubal's
words troubled him most; he studied them, compared them with what
he had been taught as a nestling, struggling to bridge between languages,
the one he thought with and the one he was learning to think in.
The word "church" which turned up over and over again among Jubal's
words gave him knotty difficulty; there was no Martian concept
to match it- unless one took "church" and "worship" and
"God" and "congregation" and many other words and equated them
to the totality of the only world he had known during growing-waiting
**h then forced the concept back into English in that phrase which
had been rejected (by each differently) by Jubal, by Mahmoud, by Digby.

<"Thou art God">. He was closer to understanding

it in English now, although it could never have the inevitability of
the Martian concept it stood for. In his mind he spoke simultaneously
the English sentence and the Martian word and felt closer grokking.
Repeating it like a student telling himself that the jewel is in the
lotus he sank into nirvana. Before midnight he speeded his
heart, resumed normal breathing, ran down his check list, uncurled and
sat up. He had been weary; now he felt light and gay and clear-headed,
ready for the many actions he saw spreading out before him.

He felt a puppyish need for company as strong as his earlier necessity

for quiet. He stepped out into the hall, was delighted to encounter
a water brother. <"Hi"!> "Oh. Hello, Mike.
My,
you look chipper". "I feel fine! Where is everybody"?

"Asleep. Ben and Stinky went home an hour ago and people
started going to bed". "Oh". Mike felt disappointed
that Mahmoud had left; he wanted to explain his new grokking.

"I ought to be asleep, too, but I felt like a snack. Are you hungry"?

"Sure, I'm hungry"! "Come on, there's

some cold chicken and we'll see what else". They went downstairs,
loaded a tray lavishly. "Let's take it outside. It's
plenty warm". "A fine idea", Mike agreed. "Warm
enough to swim- real Indian summer. I'll switch on the floods".

"Don't bother", Mike answered. "I'll carry the

tray". He could see in almost total darkness. Jubal said that his
night-sight probably came from the conditions in which he had grown
up, and Mike grokked this was true but grokked that there was more to
it; his foster parents had taught him to see. As for the night being
warm, he would have been comfortable naked on Mount Everest but
his water brothers had little tolerance for changes in temperature and
pressure; he was considerate of their weakness, once he learned of
it. But he was looking forward to snow- seeing for himself that each
tiny crystal of the water of life was a unique individual, as he had
read- walking barefoot, rolling in it. In the meantime he was
pleased with the warm night and the still more pleasing company of
his water brother. "Okay, take the tray. I'll switch on
the underwater lights. That'll be plenty to eat by". "Fine".
Mike liked having light up through the ripples; it was a goodness,
beauty. They picnicked by the pool, then lay back on the grass
and looked at stars. "Mike, there's Mars. It is Mars,
isn't it? Or Antares"? "It is Mars". "Mike?
What are they doing on Mars"? He hesitated;
the question was too wide for the sparse English language. "On the
side toward the horizon- the southern hemisphere- it is spring;
plants are being taught to grow". "'Taught to grow'"?

He hesitated. "Larry teaches plants to grow. I have

helped him. But my people- Martians, I mean; I now grok <you>
are my people- teach plants another way. In the other hemisphere
it is growing colder and nymphs, those who stayed alive through the
summer,
are being brought into nests for quickening and more growing". He
thought. "Of the humans we left at the equator, one has discorporated
and the others are sad". Yes, I heard it in the news".

Mike had not heard it; he had not known it until asked.
"They should not be sad. Mr& Booker T& W& Jones Food Technician
First Class is not sad; the Old Ones have cherished him".

"You knew him"? "Yes. He had his own face,

dark and beautiful. But he was homesick". "Oh, dear!
Mike **h do you ever get homesick? For Mars"? "At
first I was homesick", he answered. "I was lonely always". He
rolled toward her and took her in his arms. "But now I am not lonely.
I grok I shall never be lonely again". "Mike darling"-
They kissed, and went on kissing. Presently his water
brother said breathlessly. "Oh, my! That was almost worse than
the first time". "You are all right, my brother"?

"Yes. Yes indeed. Kiss me again". A long time later,

by cosmic clock, she said, "Mike? Is that- I mean, 'Do
you know'"- "I know. It is for growing closer. Now we
grow closer". "Well **h I've been ready a long time-
goodness, we <all> have, but **h never mind, dear; turn just a little.
I'll help". As they merged, grokking together, Mike
said softly and triumphantly: "Thou art God". Her answer
was not in words. Then, as their grokking made them ever closer
and Mike felt himself almost ready to discorporate her voice called
him back: "Oh! **h <Oh! Thou> art God"! "We
grok God". #/25,.#

On Mars humans were building pressure

domes for the male and female party that would arrive by next ship. This
went faster than scheduled as the Martians were helpful. Part of
the time saved was spent on a preliminary estimate for a long-distance
plan to free bound oxygen in the sands of Mars to make the planet more
friendly to future human generations. The Old Ones neither
helped nor hindered this plan; time was not yet. Their meditations
were approaching a violent cusp that would shape Martian art for
many millennia. On Earth elections continued and a very advanced poet
published a limited edition of verse consisting entirely of punctuation
marks and spaces; <Time> magazine reviewed it and suggested that
the Federation Assembly Daily Record should be translated into
the medium. A colossal campaign opened to sell more sexual organs
of plants and Mrs& Joseph ("Shadow of Greatness") Douglas
was quoted as saying: "I would no more sit down without flowers
on my table than without serviettes". A Tibetan swami from Palermo,
Sicily, announced in Beverly Hills a newly discovered, ancient
yoga discipline for ripple breathing which increased both pranha and
cosmic attraction between sexes. His chelas were required to assume
the
matsyendra posture dressed in hand-woven diapers while he read aloud
from Rig-Veda and an assistant guru examined their purses in another
room- nothing was stolen; the purpose was less immediate.

The President of the United States proclaimed the first Sunday

in November as "National Grandmothers' Day" and urged America
to say it with flowers. A funeral parlor chain was indicted for price-cutting.
Fosterite bishops, after secret conclave, announced the
Church's second Major Miracle: Supreme Bishop Digby had been
translated bodily to Heaven and spot-promoted to Archangel, ranking
with-but-after Archangel Foster. The glorious news had been held up
pending Heavenly confirmation of the elevation of a new Supreme Bishop,
Huey Short- a candidate accepted by the Boone faction after
lots had been cast repeatedly. <L'Unita> and <Hoy> published
identical denunciations of Short's elevation, <l'Osservatore
Romano> and the <Christian Science Monitor> ignored it,
<Times of India> snickered at it, and the Manchester <Guardian>
simply reported it- the Fosterites in England were few but extremely
militant. Digby was not pleased with his promotion. The
Man from Mars had interrupted him with his work half finished- and
that stupid jackass Short was certain to louse it up. Foster listened
with angelic patience until Digby ran down, then said, "Listen,
junior, you're an angel now- so forget it. Eternity is no time for
recriminations. You too were a stupid jackass until you poisoned me.
Afterwards you did well enough. Now that Short is Supreme Bishop
he'll do all right, he can't help it. Same as with the Popes.
Some of them were warts until they got promoted. Check with one of
them, go ahead- there's no professional jealousy here".
Digby calmed down, but made one request. Foster shook his halo.
"You can't touch him. You shouldn't have tried to. Oh, you
can submit a requisition for a miracle if you want to make a fool of
yourself. But, I'm telling you, it'll be turned down- you don't
understand the System yet. The Martians have their own setup, different
from ours, and as long as they need him, we can't touch him.
They run their show their way- the Universe has variety, something
for everybody- a fact you field workers often miss". "You
mean this punk can brush me aside and I've got to hold still for
it"? "I held still for the same thing, didn't I?
I'm helping you now, am I not? Now look, there's work to be
done and lots of it. The Boss wants performance, not gripes. If you
need a Day off to calm down, duck over to the Muslim Paradise and
take it. Otherwise, straighten your halo, square your wings, and dig
in. The sooner you act like an angel the quicker you'll feel angelic.
Get Happy, junior"! Digby heaved a deep ethereal sigh.
"Okay, I'm Happy. Where do I start"? Jubal did
not hear of Digby's disappearance when it was announced, and, when
he did, while he had a fleeting suspicion, he dismissed it; if Mike
had had a finger in it, he had gotten away with it- and what happened
to supreme bishops worried Jubal not at all as long as he wasn't
bothered. His household had gone through an upset. Jubal deduced
what had happened but did not know with whom- and didn't want
to inquire. Mike was of legal age and presumed able to defend himself
in the clinches. Anyhow, it was high time the boy was salted.

Jubal couldn't reconstruct the crime from the way the girls behaved
because patterns kept shifting- ~ABC ~<vs> ~D, then ~BCD
~<vs> ~A **h or ~AB ~<vs> ~CD, or ~AD
~<vs>
~CB, through all ways that four women can gang up on each
other. This continued most of the week following that ill-starred
trip to church, during which period Mike stayed in his room and usually
in a trance so deep that Jubal would have pronounced him dead
had he not seen it before. Jubal would not have minded it if service
had not gone to pieces. The girls seemed to spend half their time tiptoeing
in "to see if Mike was all right" and they were too preoccupied
to cook, much less be secretaries. Even rock-steady Anne- Hell,
Anne was the worst! Absent-minded, subject to unexplained tears
**h Jubal would have bet his life that if Anne were to witness the
Second Coming, she would memorize date, time, personae, events, and
barometric pressure without batting her calm blue eyes.
The expense and time involved are astronomical. However, we sent a third
vessel out, a much smaller and faster one than the first two. We
have learned much about interstellar drives since a hundred years ago;
that is all I can tell you about them. "But the third ship
came back several years ago and reported **h" "That it
had found a planet on which human beings could live and which was already
inhabited by sentient beings"! said Hal, forgetting in his enthusiasm
that he had not been asked to speak. Macneff stopped
pacing to stare at Hal with his pale blue eyes. "How did you
know"? he said sharply. "Forgive me, Sandalphon",
said Hal. "But it was inevitable! Did not the Forerunner predict
in his <Time and the World Line> that such a planet would be found?
I believe it was on page 573"! Macneff smiled and
said, "I am glad that your scriptural lessons have left such an impression".

How could they not? thought Hal. Besides, they

were not the only impressions. I still bear scars on my back where
Pornsen, my <gapt>, whipped me because I had not learned my lessons
well enough. He was a good impresser, that Pornsen. Was? Is!
As I
grew older and was promoted, so was he, always where I was. He was
my <gapt> in the creche. He was the dormitory <gapt> when I went
to college and thought I was getting away from him. He is now my block
<gapt>. He is the one responsible for my getting such low M&
R&'s. Swiftly, came the revulsion, the protest. No, not
he, for I, and I alone, am responsible for whatever happens to me.
If I get a low M& R&, I do so because I want it that way or
my dark self does. If I die, I die because I willed it so. So, forgive
me, Sigmen, for the contrary-to-reality thoughts! "Please
pardon me again, Sandalphon", said Hal. "But did the expedition
find any records of the Forerunner having been on this planet?
Perhaps, even, though this is too much to wish, find the Forerunner
himself"? "No", said Macneff. "Though that does
not mean that there may not be such records there. The expedition
was under orders to make a swift survey of conditions and then to return
to Earth. I can't tell you now the distance in lightyears or what
star this was, though you can see it with the naked eye at night in
this hemisphere. If you volunteer, you will be told where you're going
after the ship leaves. And it leaves very soon". "You
need a linguist"? said Hal. "The ship is huge", said
Macneff, "but the number of military men and specialists we are taking
limits the linguists to one. We have considered several of your
professionals because they were <lamechians> and above suspicion. Unfortunately
**h" Hal waited: Macneff paced some more, frowning.
Then, he said, "Unfortunately, only one <lamechian> linguist
exists, and he is too old for this expedition. Therefore **h"

"A thousand pardons", said Hal. "But I have just thought

of one thing. I am married". "No problem at all",
said Macneff. "There will be no women aboard the <Gabriel>. And,
if a man is married, he will automatically be given a divorce".

Hal gasped, and he said, "A divorce"? Macneff raised

his hands apologetically and said, "You are horrified, of course.
But, from our reading of the <Western Talmud>, we Urielites
believe that the Forerunner, knowing this situation would arise, made
reference to and provision for divorce. It's inevitable in this case,
for the couple will be separated for, at the least, forty years. Naturally,
he couched the provision in obscure language. In his great
and glorious wisdom, he knew that our enemies the Israelites must not
be able to read therein what we planned". "I volunteer",
said Hal. "Tell me more, Sandalphon". ##

Six months later,

Hal Yarrow stood in the observation dome of the <Gabriel> and
watched the ball of Earth dwindle above him. It was night on this hemisphere,
but the light blazed from the megalopolises of Australia,
Japan, China, Southeast Asia, India, Siberia. Hal, the linguist,
saw the glittering discs and necklaces in terms of the languages spoken
therein. Australia, the Philippine Islands, Japan, and northern
China were inhabited by those members of the Haijac Union that spoke
American. Southern China, all of southeast Asia, southern
India and Ceylon, these states of the Malay Federation spoke Bazaar.

Siberia spoke Icelandic. His mind turned the globe

swiftly for him, and he visualized Africa, which used Swahili south
of the Sahara Sea. All around the Mediterranean Sea, Asia Minor,
northern India, and Tibet, Hebrew was the native tongue. In
southern Europe, between the Israeli Republics and the Icelandic-speaking
peoples of northern Europe, was a thin but long stretch of territory
called March. This was no man's land, disputed by the Haijac
Union and the Israeli Republic, a potential source of war for
the last two hundred years. Neither nation would give up their claim
on it, yet neither wished to make any move that might lead to a second
Apocalyptic War. So, for all practical purposes, it was an independent
nation and by now had its own organized government (unrecognized
outside its own borders). Its citizens spoke all of the world's surviving
tongues, plus a new one called Lingo, a pidgin whose vocabulary
was derived from the other six and whose syntax was so simple it could
be contained on half a sheet of paper. Hal saw in his mind
the rest of Earth: Iceland, Greenland, the Caribbean Islands,
and the eastern half of South America. Here the peoples spoke the tongue
of Iceland because that island had gotten the jump on the Hawaiian-Americans
who were busy resettling North America and the western
half of South America after the Apocalyptic War. Then
there was North America, where American was the native speech of all
except the twenty descendants of French-Canadians living on the Hudson
Bay Preserve. Hal knew that when that side of Earth
rotated into the night zone, Sigmen City would blaze out into space.
And, somewhere in that enormous light, was his apartment. But Mary
would soon no longer be living there, for she would be notified in a
few days that her husband had died in an accident while on a flight to
Tahiti. She would weep in private, he was sure, for she loved him
in her frigid way, though in public she would be dry-eyed. Her friends
and professional associates would sympathize with her, not because she
had lost a beloved husband, but because she had been married to a man
who thought unrealistically. If Hal Yarrow had been killed in a
crash, he must have wanted it that way. There was no such thing as an
"accident". Somehow, all the other passengers (also supposed to
have died in this web of elaborate frauds to cover up the disappearance
of the personnel of the <Gabriel>) had simultaneously "agreed"
to die. And, therefore, being in disgrace, they would not be cremated
and their ashes flung to the winds in public ceremony. No, the fish
could eat their bodies for all the Sturch cared. Hal felt
sorry for Mary; he had a time keeping the tears from welling to his
own eyes as he stood in the crowd in the observation dome. Yet,
he told himself, this was the best way. He and Mary would no longer
have to tear and rend at each other; their mutual torture would be
over. Mary was free to marry again, not knowing that the Sturch had
secretly given her a divorce, thinking that death had dissolved her
marriage. She would have a year in which to make up her mind, to choose
a mate from a list selected by her <gapt>. Perhaps, the psychological
barriers that had prevented her from conceiving Hal's child would
no longer be present. Perhaps. Hal doubted if this happy event
would occur. Mary was as frozen below the navel as he. No matter who
the candidate for marriage selected by the <gapt> **h The
<gapt>. Pornsen. He would no longer have to see that fat face, hear
that whining voice **h "Hal Yarrow"! said the whining
voice. And, slowly, feeling himself icy yet burning, Hal turned.

There was the squat loose-jowled man, smiling lopsidedly

up at him. "My beloved ward, my perennial gadfly", said the
whining voice. "I had no idea that you, too, would be on this glorious
voyage. But I might have known! We seem to be bound by love;
Sigmen himself must have foreseen it. Love to you, my ward".

"Sigmen love you, too, my guardian", said Hal, choking. "How

wonderful to see your cherished self. I had thought we would never
again speak to each other".

#5#

THE <Gabriel> pointed

towards her destination and, under one-gee acceleration, began to build
up towards her ultimate velocity, 99.1 percent of the speed of light.
Meanwhile, all the personnel except those few needed to carry out
the performance of the ship, went into the suspensor. Here they would
lie in suspended animation for many years. Some time later, after
a check had been made of all automatic equipment, the crew would join
the others. They would sleep while the <Gabriel's> drive would increase
the acceleration to a point which the unfrozen bodies of the personnel
could not have endured. Upon reaching the desired speed, the
automatic equipment would cut off the drive, and the silent but not empty
vessel would hurl towards the star which was its journey's end.
Many years later, the photon-counting apparatus in the nose of
the ship would determine that the star was close enough to actuate deceleration.
Again, a force too strong for unfrozen bodies to endure
would be applied. Then, after slowing the vessel considerably, the drive
would adjust to a one-gee deceleration. And the crew would be automatically
brought out of their suspended animation. These members would
then unthaw the rest of the personnel. And, in the half-year left
before reaching their destination, the men would carry out whatever
preparations were needed. Hal Yarrow was among the last to go
into the suspensor and among the first to come out. He had to study
the recordings of the language of the chief nation of Ozagen, Siddo.
And, from the first, he faced a difficult task. The expedition that
had discovered Ozagen had succeeded in correlating two thousand Siddo
words with an equal number of American words. The description of
the Siddo syntax was very restricted. And, as Hal found out, obviously
mistaken in many cases.

This discovery caused Hal anxiety.

His duty was to write a school text and to teach the entire personnel
of the <Gabriel> how to speak Ozagen. Yet, if he used all of the
little means at his disposal, he would be instructing his students
wrongly. Moreover, even getting this across would be difficult.

For one thing, the organs of speech of the Ozagen natives differed
somewhat from Earthmen's; the sounds made by these organs were,
therefore, dissimilar. It was true that they could be approximated,
but would the Ozagenians understand these approximations? Another
obstacle was the grammatical construction of Siddo. Consider
the tense system. Instead of inflecting a verb or using an unattached
particle to indicate the past or future, Siddo used an entirely different
word. Thus, the masculine animate infinitive <dabhumaksanigalu'ahai,>
meaning <to live>, was, in the perfect tense, <ksu'u'peli'afo>,
and, in the future, <mai'teipa>. The same use of
an entirely different word applied for all the other tenses. Plus the
fact that Siddo not only had the normal (to Earthmen) three genders
of masculine, feminine, and neuter, but the two extra of inanimate and
spiritual. Fortunately, gender was inflected, though the expression
of it would be difficult for anybody not born in Siddo. The system
of indicating gender varied according to tense. All the other
parts of speech: nouns, pronouns, adjectives, adverbs, and conjunctions
operated under the same system as the verbs.
This was not, for the Angel, just a matter of running through a logical
or deductive chain, or deciding on some action from some already
established premise. No doubt the Angels could do that kind of thing
as fast as any computer. What Gabriel was being asked to do
now, however, was to re-examine all his basic assumptions, make value-judgments
on them, and give them new and different powers in his mind
to govern his motives. This is not wholly a reasoning process- a computer
cannot do it all- and even in an Angel it takes time. (Or,
perhaps, <especially> in an Angel, whose assumptions had mostly been
fixed millions of years ago.) Being reasonably sure of the
reason for the long pause, however, did not make it seem any less long
to Jack. He had already become used to Hesperus' snapping back answers
to questions almost before Jack could get them asked. There
was nothing he could do but wait. The dice were cast. At
last Gabriel spoke. "We misjudged you", he said slowly.
"We had concluded that no race as ephemeral as yours could have had
time to develop a sense of justice. Of course we have before us the
example of the great races at the galactic center; individually they
are nearly as mortal as you- the difference does not seem very marked
to us, where it exists. But they have survived for long periods <as
races>, whereas you are young. We shall recommend to them that
they shorten your trial period by half. "For now, it is clear
that we were in the wrong. You may reclaim your property, and the
penalty on Hesperus is lifted. Hesperus, you may speak". "I
did not perceive this essential distinction either, First-Born",
Hesperus said at once, "I was only practicing a concept that Jack
taught me, called a deal". "Nevertheless, you were its
agent. Jack, what is the nature of this concept"? "It's
a kind of agreement in which each party gives something to the other",
Jack said. "We regard it as fair only when each party feels
that what he has received is as valuable, or more valuable, than what
he has given". His heart, he discovered, was pounding. "For
instance, Hesperus agreed to help me find my property, and I agreed
to take him to Earth. Between individuals, this process is called
bargaining. When it is done between races or nations, it is called
making a treaty. And the major part of my mission to your nest is to
make a treaty between your race and mine. Recovering the property was
much less important". "Strange", Gabriel said. "And
apparently impossible. Though it might be that we would have much to
give you, you have nothing to give us". "Hesperus and Lucifer",
Jack said, "show that we do". Another pause;
but this one was not nearly as long. "Then it is a matter of
pleasure; of curiosity; of a more alive time. Yes, those could
be commodities under this concept. But you should understand, Jack,
that Hesperus and Lucifer are not long out of the nursery. Visiting
the Earth would not be an offering of worth to those of us who are older".

This explained a great deal. "All the more reason,

then", Jack said, "why we must have a treaty. We will gladly entertain
your young and give them proper living quarters, in return for
their help in running our fusion reactors. But we must know if this
is in accordance with your customs, and must have your agreement they
will not misuse the power we put in their hands, to our hurt".

"But this simply requires that they behave in accordance with the
dictates of their own natures, and respect yours in turn. To this
we
of course agree". Jack felt a wave of complete elation, but
in a second it had vanished without a trace. What Gabriel was asking
was that mankind forego all its parochial moral judgments, and contract
to let the Angels serve on Earth as it is in Heaven <regardless>
of the applicable Earth laws. The Angels in turn would exercise
similar restraints in respect for the natural preferences and natures
of the Earthmen- but they had no faintest notion of man's perverse
habit of passing and enforcing laws which were contrary to his own
preferences and violations of his nature. The simple treaty principle
that Gabriel was asking him to ratify, in short, was nothing
less than total trust. Nothing less would serve. And it might
be, considering the uncomfortable custom the Angels had of thinking
of everything in terms of absolutes, that the proposal of anything less
might well amount instead to something like a declaration of war.

Furthermore, even the highly trained law clerk who was a part of
Jack's total make-up could not understand how the principle could
ever be codified. Almost the whole experience of mankind pointed toward
suspicion, not trust, as the safest and sanest attitude toward all
outsiders. Yet there was some precedent for it. The history of
disarmament agreements, for instance, had been unreassuringly dismal;
but the United States and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
nevertheless did eventually agree on an atomic bomb test ban, and
a sort of provisional acceptance of each other's good intentions on
this limited question. Out of that agreement, though not by any easy
road, eventually emerged the present world hegemony of the United Nations;
suspicion between member states still existed, but it was of
about the same low order of virulence as the twentieth-century rivalry
between Arizona and California over water supplies. Besides,
agreements "in principle", with the petty details to be thrashed
out later, were commonplace in diplomatic history. The trouble with
them was that they almost never worked, and in fact an agreement "in
principle" historically turned out to be a sure sign that neither
party really wanted the quarrel settled. Suppose that this one
were to work? There was no question in Jack's mind of the good
faith on one side, at least. If mankind could be convinced of that **h

It was worth trying. In fact, it had to be tried. It would

be at once the most tentative and most final treaty that Earth had
ever signed. Secretary Hart had taught Jack, at least partially, to
be content with small beginnings in all diplomatic matters; but there
was no small way to handle this one. He turned back to the
screens, the crucial, conclusive phrase on his lips. But he was too late.
He had lost his audience. ##

For a moment he could make no

sense at all of what he saw. It seemed to be only a riot of color, light
and meaningless activity. Gradually, he realized that the pentagon
of Angel elders had vanished, and that the ritual learning dance of
the nursery had been broken up. The Angels in the nursery were zigzagging
wildly in all directions, seemingly at random. "Hesperus!
What's going on here? What's happened"? "Your
brothers have been found. They are on their way here".
"Where? I don't see them. The instruments don't show them".

"You can't see them yet, Jack. They'll be in range

in a short while". Jack scanned the skies, the boards, and
the skies again. Nothing. No- there was a tiny pip on the radar;
and it was getting bigger rapidly. If that was the skiff, it was making
unprecedented speed. Then the skiff hove into sight, just
a dot of light at first against the roiling blackness and crimson streaks
of the Coal Sack. Through the telescope, Jack could see that
both spacesuits were still attached to it. The sail was still unfurled,
though there were a good many holes in it, as Langer had predicted
would be the case by now. It was a startling, almost numenous
sight; but even more awesome was the fact that it was trailing an
enormous comet's-tail of Angels. The skiff was not heading
for the nursery, however. It seemed unlikely that her crew, if either
of them were alive, could even see the <Ariadne>, for they were passing
her at a distance of nearly a light-year. And there would be no
chance of signaling them- without the Nernst generator Jack could
not send a call powerful enough to get through all the static, and by
the time he could rebuild his fusion power the skiff would be gone.

Fuming, helpless, he watched them pass him. The sail, ragged

though it was, still had enough surface to catch some of the ocean of
power being poured out from the nursery stars. He would never have believed,
without seeing it, that the bizarre little vessel could go so
fast. But where was it going? And why was it causing so much
agitation among the Angels, and being followed by so many of them?

There was only one possible answer, but Jack's horrified

mind refused to believe it until he had fed the radar plots of the skiff's
course into the computer. The curve on the card the computer
spat back at him couldn't be argued with, however. The skiff
was headed for the very center of the nebula- toward that place which,
Jack knew now, could hold nothing less important than the very core
of the Angel's life and religion. It was clear that Langer
had at last found a way to attract the Angel's attention.

It was equally clear that as of this moment, the treaty was off.

#STERN CHASE 10#

LANGER WOULD HAVE to be headed off, whether

he knew where he was going or not. Almost surely he did; after all,
he had had the same set of facts as Jack had had to work from, and
he was an almost frighteningly observant man. But not having talked
to the Angels, he had made a wrong turn in his reasoning somewhere along
the line. Had he decided, perhaps, that the center of the cloud
was
a center of government, instead of a center of life and faith"?

But it didn't matter now whether he meant to invade the Holy

of Holies, or was simply headed in that direction by accident. If
it was intentional, it was now also unnecessary; and whether intentional
or not, the outcome would be disastrous. Jack crawled under
the boards and restored the six feet of lead line he had excised from
the Nernst generator switch. When he was back on his feet again
and about to reinstall the fuses, however, he hesitated. He had
to have fusion power to catch up with the skiff, and he had to have
it fast. But fusion power in the Coal Sack was what had triggered
all the trouble in the first place- and he already had an Angel aboard.

"Hesperus"? "Receiving". "I'm

going to turn my generator back on, as I promised to do. But I can't
take you to Earth yet. First I've got to intercept my brothers
before they get any deeper into trouble. Will you obstruct this,
or will you help? I know it's not part of the bargain, and your
elders might not like it". "Nobody else can live in your
hearth while I am in it", Hesperus said promptly. "As for my elders,
they have already admitted that they were wrong. If because of
this incident they become angry with Earth, I will not be permitted
to go there at all. Therefore of course I will help". With
a short-lived sigh of relief, Jack plugged the fuses back in and threw
the switch. Without an instant's transition, the green light that
meant full fusion power winked on the board. Always before, it had
taken five minutes to- Of course. Hesperus was in there. From
here on out, the <Ariadne> was going to be hotter than any space
cruiser man had ever dreamed of. But since he had failed to
anticipate it, he lost the five minutes anyhow, in plotting an intercept
orbit. "Hesperus, don't use this ~<t-tau> vector
trick of yours, please.

Ryan hefted his bulk up and supported it on one elbow. He rubbed

his eyes sleepily with one huge paw. "Ekstrohm, Nogol, you guys
okay"? "Nothing wrong with me that couldn't be cured",
Nogol said. He didn't say what would cure him; he had been
explaining all during the trip what he needed to make him feel like himself.
His small black eyes darted inside the olive oval of his face.

"Ekstrohm"? Ryan insisted. "Okay".

"Well, let's
take a ground-level look at the country around here".

The facsiport rolled open on the landscape. A range of bluffs

hugged the horizon, the color of decaying moss. Above them, the sky
was the black of space, or the almost equal black of the winter sky above
Minneapolis, seen against neon-lit snow. That cold, empty sky was
full of fire and light. It seemed almost a magnification of the Galaxy
itself, of the Milky Way, blown up by some master photographer.

This fiery swath was actually only a belt of minor planets,

almost like the asteroid belt in the original Solar System. These
planets were much bigger, nearly all capable of holding an atmosphere.
But to the infuriation of scientists, for no known reason not all of
them did. This would be the fifth mapping expedition to the planetoids
of Yancy-6 in three generations. They lay months away from the nearest
Earth star by jump drive, and no one knew what they were good for,
although it was felt that they would probably be good for something
if it could only be discovered- much like the continent of Antarctica
in ancient history. "How can a planet with so many neighbors
be so lonely"? Ryan asked. He was the captain, so he could
ask questions like that. "Some can be lonely in a crowd",
Nogol said elaborately. ##

"WHAT will we need outside, Ryan"?

Ekstrohm asked. "No helmets", the captain answered.
"We can breathe out there, all right. It just won't be easy.
This old world lost all of its helium and trace gases long ago. Nitrogen
and oxygen are about it". "Ryan, look over there",
Nogol said. "Animals. Ringing the ship. Think they're intelligent,
maybe hostile"? "I think they're dead", Ekstrohm
interjected quietly. "I get no readings from them at all. Sonic,
electronic, galvanic- all blank. According to these needles, they're
stone dead". "Ekstrohm, you and I will have a look",
Ryan said. "You hold down the fort, Nogol. Take it easy".

"Easy", Nogol confirmed. "I heard a story once about

a rookie who got excited when the captain stepped outside and he couldn't
get an encephalographic reading on him. Me, I know the mind
of an officer works in a strange and unfathomable manner". "I'm
not worried about you mis-reading the dials, Nogol, just about
a lug like you reading them at all. Remember, when the little hand
is straight up that's negative. Positive results start when it goes
towards the hand you use to make your mark". "But I'm
ambidextrous". Ryan told him what he could do then. Ekstrohm
smiled, and followed the captain through the airlock with only
a glance at the lapel gauge on his coverall. The strong negative field
his suit set up would help to repel bacteria and insects. Actually,
the types of infection that could attack a warm-blooded mammal
were not infinite, and over the course of the last few hundred years
adequate defenses had been found for all basic categories. He wasn't
likely to come down with hot chills and puzzling striped fever.

They ignored the ladder down to the planet surface and, with only
a glance at the seismological gauge to judge surface resistance, dropped
to the ground. It was day, but in the thin atmosphere contrasts
were sharp between light and shadow. They walked from midnight
to noon, noon to midnight, and came to the beast sprawled on its side.

Ekstrohm nudged it with a boot. "Hey, this is pretty close

to a wart-hog". "Uh-huh", Ryan admitted. "One of the
best matches I've ever found. Well, it has to happen. Statistical
average and all. Still, it sometimes gives you a creepy feeling to
find a rabbit or a snapping turtle on some strange world. It makes
you wonder if this exploration business isn't all some big joke, and
somebody has been <everywhere> before you even started". ##

THE
surveyor looked sidewise at the captain. The big man seldom
gave out with such thoughts. Ekstrohm cleared his throat. "What shall
we do with this one? Dissect it"? Ryan nudged it with
his toe, following Ekstrohm's example. "I don't know, Stormy.
It sure as hell doesn't look like any dominant intelligent species
to me. No hands, for one thing. Of course, that's not definite
proof". "No, it isn't", Ekstrohm said. "I
think we'd better let it lay until we get a clearer picture of the ecological
setup around here. In the meantime, we might be thinking on
the problem all these dead beasts represent. What killed them"?

"It looks like we did, when we made blastdown". "But

<what> about our landing was lethal to the creatures"?

"Radiation"? Ekstrohm suggested. "The planet is very low

in radiation from mineral deposits, and the atmosphere seems to shield
out most of the solar output. Any little dose of radiation might knock
off these critters". "I don't know about that. Maybe
it would work the other way. Maybe because they have had virtually
no radioactive exposure and don't have any ~R's stored up, they
could take a <lot> without harm". "Then maybe it was the
shockwave we set up. Or maybe it's sheer xenophobia. They curl
up and die at the sight of something strange and alien- like a spaceship".

"Maybe", the captain admitted. "At this stage

of the game anything could be possible. But there's one possibility
I particularly don't like". "And that is"?
"Suppose it was <not> us
that killed these aliens. Suppose it is something
right on the planet, native to it. I just hope it doesn't work
on Earthmen too. These critters went real sudden". ##

EKSTROHM
lay in his bunk and thought, the camp is quiet. The
Earthmen made camp outside the spaceship. There was no reason to leave
the comfortable quarters inside the ship, except that, faced with
a possibility of sleeping on solid ground, they simply had to get out.

The camp was a cluster of aluminum bubbles, ringed with a spy

web to alert the Earthmen to the approach of any being. Each
man had a bubble to himself, privacy after the long period of enforced
intimacy on board the ship. Ekstrohm lay in his bunk and listened
to the sounds of the night on Yancey-6 138. There was a keening
of wind, and a cracking of the frozen ground. Insects there were on
the world, but they were frozen solid during the night, only to revive
and thaw in the morning sun. The bunk he lay on was much more
uncomfortable than the acceleration couches on board. Yet he knew the
others were sleeping more soundly, now that they had renewed their
contact with the matter that had birthed them to send them riding high
vacuum. Ekstrohm was not asleep. Now there could be an
end to pretending. He threw off the light blanket and swung
his feet off the bunk, to the floor. Ekstrohm stood up. There
was no longer any need to hide. But what was there to do? What had
changed for him? He no longer had to lie in his bunk all night,
his eyes closed, pretending to sleep. In privacy he could walk
around, leave the light on, read. It was small comfort for insomnia.

Ekstrohm never slept. Some doctors had informed him he

was mistaken about this. Actually, they said, he did sleep, but so shortly
and fitfully that he forgot. Others admitted he was absolutely
correct- he <never> slept. His body processes only slowed down enough
for him to dispell fatigue poisons. Occasionally he fell into a
waking, gritty-eyed stupor; but he never slept. Never at all.

Naturally, he couldn't let his shipmates know this. Insomnia

would ground him from the Exploration Service, on physiological
if not psychological grounds. He had to hide it. ##

OVER the
years, he had had buddies in space in whom he thought he could confide.
The buddies invariably took advantage of him. Since he couldn't
sleep anyway, he might as well stand their watches for them or write
their reports. Where the hell did he get off threatening to report
any laxness on their part to the captain? A man with insomnia had
better avoid bad dreams of that kind if he knew what was good for him.

Ekstrohm had to hide his secret. In a camp, instead of

shipboard, hiding the secret was easier. But the secret itself was
just as hard. Ekstrohm picked up a lightweight no-back from the
ship's library, a book by Bloch, the famous twentieth century expert
on sex. He scanned a few lines on the social repercussions of a celebrated
nineteenth century sex murderer, but he couldn't seem to concentrate
on the weighty, pontifical, ponderous style. On impulse,
he flipped up the heat control on his coverall and slid back the
hatch of the bubble. Ekstrohm walked through the alien glass
and looked up at the unfamiliar constellations, smelling the frozen sterility
of the thin air. Behind him, his mates stirred without
waking. #/2,#

EKSTROHM was startled in the morning by a

banging on the hatch of his bubble. It took him a few seconds to put
his thoughts in order, and then he got up from the bunk where he had been
resting, sleeplessly. The angry burnt-red face of Ryan greeted
him. "Okay, Stormy, this isn't the place for fun and games.
What did you do with them"? "Do with what"?

"The dead beasties. All the dead animals laying around the ship".

"What are you talking about, Ryan? What do you think I

did with them"? "I don't know. All I know is that they
are gone". <"Gone"?> Ekstrohm shouldered
his way outside and scanned the veldt. There was no ring of animal
corpses. Nothing. Nothing but wispy grass whipping in the keen
breeze. "I'll be damned", Ekstrohm said. "You
are right now, buddy. ExPe doesn't like anybody mucking up primary
evidence". "Where do you get off, Ryan"? Ekstrohm
demanded. "Why pick me for your patsy? This has got to be some
kind of local phenomenon. Why accuse a shipmate of being behind this"?

"Listen, Ekstrohm, I want to give you the benefit of

every doubt. But you aren't exactly the model of a surveyor, you know.
You've been riding on a pink ticket for six years, you know that".

"No", Ekstrohm said, "No, I didn't know that".

"You've been hiding things from me and Nogol every jump

we've made with you. Now comes this! It fits the pattern of secrecy
and stealth you've been involved in". "What could I
do with your lousy dead bodies? What would I want with them"?

"All I know is that you were outside the bubbles last night,
and you were the only sentient being who came in or out of our alarm
web. The tapes show that. Now all the bodies are missing, like they
got up and walked away". It was not a new experience to Ekstrohm.
No. Suspicion wasn't new to him at all. "Ryan,
there are other explanations for the disappearance of the bodies. Look
for them, will you? I give you my word I'm not trying to pull
some stupid kind of joke, or to deliberately foul up the expedition.
Take my word, can't you"? Ryan shook his head. "I don't
think I can. There's still such a thing as mental illness. You
may not be responsible". Ekstrohm scowled. "Don't
try anything violent, Stormy. I outweigh you fifty pounds and
I'm fast for a big man". "I wasn't planning on jumping
you. Why do you have to jump me the first time something goes wrong?

She lived and was given a name. Helva. For her first three vegetable
months she waved her crabbed claws, kicked weakly with her clubbed
feet and enjoyed the usual routine of the infant. She was not alone
for there were three other such children in the big city's special
nursery. Soon they all were removed to Central Laboratory School
where their delicate transformation began. One of the babies
died in the initial transferral but of Helva's "class", seventeen
thrived in the metal shells. Instead of kicking feet, Helva's
neural responses started her wheels; instead of grabbing with hands,
she manipulated mechanical extensions. As she matured, more and more
neural synapses would be adjusted to operate other mechanisms that went
into the maintenance and running of a space ship. For Helva was
destined to be the "brain" half of a scout ship, partnered with a
man or a woman, whichever she chose, as the mobile half. She would be
among the elite of her kind. Her initial intelligence tests registered
above normal and her adaptation index was unusually high. As long
as her development within her shell lived up to expectations, and there
were no side-effects from the pituitary tinkering, Helva would live
a rewarding, rich and unusual life, a far cry from what she would have
faced as an ordinary, "normal" being. However, no diagram
of her brain patterns, no early I&Q& tests recorded certain essential
facts about Helva that Central must eventually learn. They
would have to bide their official time and see, trusting that the massive
doses of shell-psychology would suffice her, too, as the necessary
bulwark against her unusual confinement and the pressures of her profession.
A ship run by a human brain could not run rogue or insane with
the power and resources Central had to build into their scout ships.
Brain ships were, of course, long past the experimental stages. Most
babes survived the techniques of pituitary manipulation that kept
their bodies small, eliminating the necessity of transfers from smaller
to larger shells. And very, very few were lost when the final connection
was made to the control panels of ship or industrial combine. Shell
people resembled mature dwarfs in size whatever their natal deformities
were, but the well-oriented brain would not have changed places
with the most perfect body in the Universe. So, for happy years,
Helva scooted around in her shell with her classmates, playing such
games as Stall, Power-Seek, studying her lessons in trajectory,
propulsion techniques, computation, logistics, mental hygiene, basic
alien psychology, philology, space history, law, traffic, codes: all
the et ceteras that eventually became compounded into a reasoning, logical,
informed citizen. Not so obvious to her, but of more importance
to her teachers, Helva ingested the precepts of her conditioning as
easily as she absorbed her nutrient fluid. She would one day be grateful
to the patient drone of the sub-conscious-level instruction.

Helva's civilization was not without busy, do-good associations,

exploring possible inhumanities to terrestrial as well as extraterrestrial
citizens. One such group got all incensed over shelled "children"
when Helva was just turning fourteen. When they were forced
to, Central Worlds shrugged its shoulders, arranged a tour of the Laboratory
Schools and set the tour off to a big start by showing the
members case histories, complete with photographs. Very few committees
ever looked past the first few photos. Most of their original objections
about "shells" were overridden by the relief that these hideous
(to them) bodies <were> mercifully concealed. Helva's
class was doing Fine Arts, a selective subject in her crowded program.
She had activated one of her microscopic tools which she would later
use for minute repairs to various parts of her control panel. Her
subject
was large- a copy of the Last Supper- and her canvas, small-
the head of a tiny screw. She had tuned her sight to the proper
degree. As she worked she absentmindedly crooned, producing a curious
sound. Shell people used their own vocal cords and diaphragms but sound
issued through microphones rather than mouths. Helva's hum then
had a curious vibrancy, a warm, dulcet quality even in its aimless chromatic
wanderings. "Why, what a lovely voice you have",
said one of the female visitors. Helva "looked" up and caught
a fascinating panorama of regular, dirty craters on a flaky pink surface.
Her hum became a gurgle of surprise. She instinctively regulated
her "sight" until the skin lost its cratered look and the pores
assumed normal proportions. "Yes, we have quite a few years
of voice training, madam", remarked Helva calmly. "Vocal peculiarities
often become excessively irritating during prolonged intra-stellar
distances and must be eliminated. I enjoyed my lessons".

Although this was the first time that Helva had seen unshelled
people, she took this experience calmly. Any other reaction would have
been reported instantly. "I meant that you have a nice singing
voice **h dear", the lady amended. "Thank you. Would
you like to see my work"? Helva asked, politely. She instinctively
sheered away from personal discussions but she filed the comment away
for further meditation. "Work"? asked the lady.

"I am currently reproducing the Last Supper on the head of a screw".

"O, I say", the lady twittered. Helva turned

her vision back to magnification and surveyed her copy critically.
"Of course, some of my color values do not match the old Master's
and the perspective is faulty but I believe it to be a fair
copy". The lady's eyes, unmagnified, bugged out.
"Oh, I forget", and Helva's voice was really contrite. If she
could have blushed, she would have. "You people don't have adjustable
vision". The monitor of this discourse grinned with pride
and amusement as Helva's tone indicated pity for the unfortunate.

"Here, this will help", suggested Helva, substituting

a magnifying device in one extension and holding it over the picture.

In a kind of shock, the ladies and gentlemen of the committee

bent to observe the incredibly copied and brilliantly executed Last
Supper on the head of a screw. "Well", remarked one gentleman
who had been forced to accompany his wife, "the good Lord can
eat where angels fear to tread". "Are you referring, sir",
asked Helva politely, "to the Dark Age discussions of the number
of angels who could stand on the head of a pin"? "I had
that in mind". "If you substitute 'atom' for 'angel',
the problem is not insoluble, given the metallic content of the
pin in question". "Which you are programed to compute"?

"Of course". "Did they remember to program a

sense of humor, as well, young lady"? "We are directed
to develop a sense of proportion, sir, which contributes the same effect".

The good man chortled appreciatively and decided the trip

was worth his time. If the investigation committee spent months
digesting the thoughtful food served them at the Laboratory School,
they left Helva with a morsel as well. "Singing" as
applicable to herself required research. She had, of course, been exposed
to and enjoyed a music appreciation course which had included the
better known classical works such as "Tristan und Isolde", "Candide",
"Oklahoma", "Nozze de Figaro", the atomic age singers,
Eileen Farrell, Elvis Presley and Geraldine Todd, as well
as the curious rhythmic progressions of the Venusians, Capellan visual
chromatics and the sonic concerti of the Altairians. But "singing"
for any shell person posed considerable technical difficulties
to be overcome. Shell people were schooled to examine every aspect of
a problem or situation before making a prognosis. Balanced properly
between optimism and practicality, the nondefeatist attitude of the shell
people led them to extricate themselves, their ships and personnel,
from bizarre situations. Therefore to Helva, the problem that she
couldn't open her mouth to sing, among other restrictions, did not
bother her. She would work out a method, by-passing her limitations,
whereby she could sing. She approached the problem by investigating
the methods of sound reproduction through the centuries, human and
instrumental. Her own sound production equipment was essentially more
instrumental than vocal. Breath control and the proper enunciation
of vowel sounds within the oral cavity appeared to require the most
development and practice. Shell people did not, strictly speaking, breathe.
For their purposes, oxygen and other gases were not drawn from
the surrounding atmosphere through the medium of lungs but sustained
artificially by solution in their shells. After experimentation, Helva
discovered that she could manipulate her diaphragmic unit to sustain
tone. By relaxing the throat muscles and expanding the oral cavity
well into the frontal sinuses, she could direct the vowel sounds into
the most felicitous position for proper reproduction through her throat
microphone. She compared the results with tape recordings of modern
singers and was not unpleased although her own tapes had a peculiar
quality about them, not at all unharmonious, merely unique. Acquiring
a repertoire from the Laboratory library was no problem to one trained
to perfect recall. She found herself able to sing any role and any
song which struck her fancy. It would not have occurred to her that
it was curious for a female to sing bass, baritone, tenor, alto, mezzo,
soprano and coloratura as she pleased. It was, to Helva, only a matter
of the correct reproduction and diaphragmic control required by the
music attempted. If the authorities remarked on her curious
avocation, they did so among themselves. Shell people were encouraged
to develop a hobby so long as they maintained proficiency in their technical
work. On the anniversary of her sixteenth year in her
shell, Helva was unconditionally graduated and installed in her ship,
the ~XH-834. Her permanent titanium shell was recessed behind an
even more indestructible barrier in the central shaft of the scout ship.
The neural, audio, visual and sensory connections were made and
sealed. Her extendibles were diverted, connected or augmented and the
final, delicate-beyond-description brain taps were completed while Helva
remained anesthetically unaware of the proceedings. When she awoke,
she <was> the ship. Her brain and intelligence controlled every
function from navigation to such loading as a scout ship of her class
needed. She could take care of herself and her ambulatory half, in any
situation already recorded in the annals of Central Worlds and any
situation its most fertile minds could imagine. Her first actual
flight, for she and her kind had made mock flights on dummy panels
since she was eight, showed her complete mastery of the techniques
of her profession. She was ready for her great adventures and the arrival
of her mobile partner. There were nine qualified scouts sitting
around collecting base pay the day Helva was commissioned. There
were several missions which demanded instant attention but Helva
had been of interest to several department heads in Central for some
time and each man was determined to have her assigned to <his> section.
Consequently no one had remembered to introduce Helva to the prospective
partners. The ship always chose its own partner. Had there
been another "brain" ship at the Base at the moment, Helva would
have been guided to make the first move. As it was, while Central wrangled
among itself, Robert Tanner sneaked out of the pilots' barracks,
out to the field and over to Helva's slim metal hull.
"Hello, anyone at home"? Tanner wisecracked. "Of course",
replied Helva logically, activating her outside scanners. "Are
you my partner"? she asked hopefully, as she recognized the
Scout Service uniform. "All you have to do is ask", he retorted
hopefully. "No one has come. I thought perhaps there
were no partners available and I've had no directives from Central".

Even to herself Helva sounded a little self-pitying but

the truth was she was lonely, sitting on the darkened field. Always
she had had the company of other shells and more recently, technicians
by the score. The sudden solitude had lost its momentary charm and
become oppressive. "No directives from Central is scarcely
a cause for regret, but there happen to be eight other guys biting their
fingernails to the quick just waiting for an invitation to board you,
you beautiful thing".
It would have killed you in the cabin. Do you have anything for me"?

Mercer stammered, not knowing what B'dikkat meant, and

the two-nosed man answered for him, "I think he has a nice baby head,
but it isn't big enough for you to take yet". Mercer never
noticed the needle touch his arm. B'dikkat had turned to
the next knot of people when the super-condamine hit Mercer.
He tried to run after B'dikkat, to hug the lead spacesuit, to tell
B'dikkat that he loved him. He stumbled and fell, but it did not
hurt. The many-bodied girl lay near him. Mercer spoke to her.

"Isn't it wonderful? You're beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

I'm so happy to be here". The woman covered with
growing hands came and sat beside them. She radiated warmth and good
fellowship. Mercer thought that she looked very distinguished and charming.
He struggled out of his clothes. It was foolish and snobbish
to wear clothing when none of these nice people did. The two
women babbled and crooned at him. With one corner of his mind
he knew that they were saying nothing, just expressing the euphoria of
a drug so powerful that the known universe had forbidden it. With most
of his mind he was happy. He wondered how anyone could have the good
luck to visit a planet as nice as this. He tried to tell the Lady
Da, but the words weren't quite straight. A painful stab
hit him in the abdomen. The drug went after the pain and swallowed it.
It was like the cap in the hospital, only a thousand times better.
The pain was gone, though it had been crippling the first time.

He forced himself to be deliberate. He rammed his mind into focus

and said to the two ladies who lay pinkly nude beside him in the desert,
"That was a good bite. Maybe I will grow another head. That
would make B'dikkat happy"! The Lady Da forced the foremost
of her bodies in an upright position. Said she, "I'm strong,
too. I can talk. Remember, man, remember. People never live forever.
We can die, too, we can die like real people. I do so believe
in death"! Mercer smiled at her through his happiness.

"Of course you can. But isn't this nice **h" With
this he felt his lips thicken and his mind go slack. He was wide awake,
but he did not feel like doing anything. In that beautiful place,
among all those companionable and attractive people, he sat and smiled.

B'dikkat was sterilizing his knives. ##

Mercer wondered
how long the super-condamine had lasted him. He endured the ministrations
of the dromozoa without screams or movement. The agonies of nerves
and itching of skin were phenomena which happened somewhere near
him, but meant nothing. He watched his own body with remote, casual
interest.
The Lady Da and the hand-covered woman stayed near him. After
a long time the half-man dragged himself over to the group with his
powerful arms. Having arrived he blinked sleepily and friendlily at
them, and lapsed back into the restful stupor from which he had emerged.
Mercer saw the sun rise on occasion, closed his eyes briefly, and
opened them to see stars shining. Time had no meaning. The dromozoa
fed him in their mysterious way; the drug canceled out his needs for
cycles of the body. At last he noticed a return of the inwardness
of pain. The pains themselves had not changed; he had.

He knew all the events which could take place on Shayol. He

remembered them well from his happy period. Formerly he had noticed
them- now he felt them. He tried to ask the Lady Da how long
they had had the drug, and how much longer they would have to wait
before they had it again. She smiled at him with benign, remote happiness;
apparently her many torsos, stretched out along the ground, had
a greater capacity for retaining the drug than did his body. She meant
him well, but was in no condition for articulate speech. The
half-man lay on the ground, arteries pulsating prettily behind the
half-transparent film which protected his abdominal cavity. Mercer
squeezed the man's shoulder. The half-man woke, recognized
Mercer and gave him a healthily sleepy grin. "'A good
morrow to you, my boy'. That's out of a play. Did you ever see
a play"? "You mean a game with cards"? "No",
said the half-man, "a sort of eye-machine with real people doing
the figures". "I never saw that", said Mercer, "but
I"- "But you want to ask me when B'dikkat is going
to come back with the needle". "Yes", said Mercer, a little
ashamed of his obviousness. "Soon", said the half-man.
That's why I think of plays. We all know what is going to happen.
We all know when it is going to happen. We all know what the dummies
will do"- he gestured at the hummocks in which the decorticated
men were cradled- "and we all know what the new people will ask.
But we never know how long a scene is going to take". "What's
a 'scene'"? asked Mercer. "Is that the name for the
needle"? The half-man laughed with something close to real
humor. "No, no, no. You've got the lovelies on the brain. A
scene is just a part of a play. I mean we know the order in which things
happen, but we have no clocks and nobody cares enough to count days
or to make calendars and there's not much climate here, so none of
us know how long anything takes. The pain seems short and the pleasure
seems long. I'm inclined to think that they are about two Earth-weeks
each". Mercer did not know what an "Earth-week"
was, since he had not been a well-read man before his conviction, but
he got nothing more from the half-man at that time. The half-man received
a dromozootic implant, turned red in the face, shouted senselessly
at Mercer, "Take it out, you fool! Take it out of me"!

When Mercer looked on helplessly, the half-man twisted over on

his side, his pink dusty back turned to Mercer, and wept hoarsely and
quietly to himself. Mercer himself could not tell how long it
was before B'dikkat came back. It might have been several days.
It might have been several months. Once again B'dikkat moved
among them like a father; once again they clustered like children.
This time B'dikkat smiled pleasantly at the little head which had
grown out of Mercer's thigh- a sleeping child's head, covered
with light hair on top and with dainty eyebrows over the resting eyes.
Mercer got the blissful needle. When B'dikkat cut the head
from Mercer's thigh, he felt the knife grinding against the cartilage
which held the head
to his own body. He saw the child-face grimace
as the head was cut; he felt the far, cool flash of unimportant pain,
as B'dikkat dabbed the wound with a corrosive antiseptic which
stopped all bleeding immediately. The next time it was two legs
growing from his chest. Then there had been another head beside
his own. Or was that after the torso and legs, waist to toe-tips,
of the little girl which had grown from his side? He
forgot the order. He did not count time. Lady Da smiled
at him often, but there was no love in this place. She had lost
the extra torsos. In between teratologies, she was a pretty and shapely
woman; but the nicest thing about their relationship was her whisper
to him, repeated some thousands of time, repeated with smiles and
hope, "People never live forever". She found this immensely
comforting, even though Mercer did not make much sense out of it.
Thus events occurred, and victims changed in appearance, and
new ones arrived. Sometimes B'dikkat took the new ones, resting in
the everlasting sleep of their burned-out brains, in a ground-truck
to be added to other herds. The bodies in the truck threshed and bawled
without human speech when the dromozoa struck them. Finally,
Mercer did manage to follow B'dikkat to the door of the cabin. He
had to fight the bliss of